Chapter Text
Hello there. My name is Iruka Umino, of the Hidden Leaf Village. You probably don’t feel any particular need to listen to me, but please, find it in your heart to keep me company just for today. I know you don’t have ears to begin with, but you must have some organ that senses the vibration of the air, right? I'm not sure if "organ" is the right word, but… anyway, please be my conversation partner. That’s why I bought you from the flower shop, after all.
My head was a bit of a mess, and I just had one of those days where I wanted to talk to someone—anyone. But I couldn't exactly grab a random stranger on the street, could I? And I’m not the type to drown my sorrows in drink and start babbling. It’s a bit of a contradiction, isn't it? Trying to organize your thoughts when your brain isn't even functioning properly. Besides, the moment I saw you at the shop with your white flowers in full bloom, I couldn't help but think of him... No, no! Please forget I said that. Just listen to what I have to say from now on. Even if it gets a bit long, please bear with me.
That day, the weather was truly beautiful. Looking back, it was probably just an ordinary day, but maybe it felt special because my teacher had praised me for my improving shurikenjutsu during practice. I didn't get praised very often back then. Of course, I’m a fully capable Chunin now, so you don't have to worry about the village's safety. Anyway, back then, even the scorching sunlight felt like a spotlight shining just for me. I felt like I could fly. Walking normally wasn't enough; I was practically skipping through the village, humming a tune, when I spotted a familiar figure near the dango shop.
I didn't doubt for a second that I might have been mistaken. His silhouette is hard to miss. Honestly, I think I could recognize him even if I were running at full speed today. Even as a kid, his physique was quite impressive.
"Asuma-niisan!"
I shouted, bursting into the dango shop. My high ponytail must have been swaying energetically behind me. I was in such a good mood, and I was young. I expressed my happiness to the fullest, hoping someone would notice. I practically begged him with my eyes to ask what was going on. That way, I could naturally bring up the praise I’d received. I couldn’t miss a perfect chance to brag without having to be the one to start the topic. The corners of my mouth were twitching uncontrollably. I was young then, so it was hard to control my emotions. I know shinobi have a duty to hide their feelings, but… I suddenly wonder if that only applies to the battlefield. In a peaceful village, surely no one would mind if we laugh and express ourselves. If we have to hide our happiness too, wouldn't that be the most miserable life imaginable? …What’s that? You're saying it's because of that mindset that I became such a short-tempered teacher at the Academy? Oh, hush.
"Oh, Iruka. Done with training? You look like you're in a great mood today. Did something happen?"
Unlike you, who keeps bickering with me, Asuma-san was a truly kind person and fell right into my trap. Even now, years later, that moment feels so satisfying. Imagine how I felt back then! I felt like I was soaring. Overwhelmed with joy, I did a little spin, flashed a peace sign with my right hand, and beamed at him.
By the way, you're asking why I called him "brother" back then but use formal language now? Like I said, I was a kid. Now, I maintain proper etiquette.
"Today! My teacher! Praised me! He said my shurikenjutsu has improved!"
I held out my palm and looked at Asuma-san. He could have just brushed it off, but he kindly laughed and held out his own palm. I jumped and—Whack!—gave him a high-five. After the cheerful sound echoed briefly in the shop, Asuma-san ruffled my hair, congratulating me. My neatly tied hair became a mess, but I didn't care. Of course not. It was an action filled with so much affection; what did a little tangled hair matter? I could always tie it back.
Anyway, regardless of who else was in the shop, I was hopping around like a frog when I finally noticed Asuma-niisan’s friends. Gai-san, Kurenai-san, and Genma-san. We’ve known each other for a long time now, but back then, we only met occasionally because of Asuma-san. We weren't exactly "close." The realization that these people had just watched me spinning and jumping around made my face turn—well, even now it feels hot, but back then, I must have looked redder than a ripe radish. I laughed sheepishly and gave them a deep, belated bow. They were good people then, just as they are now, so they didn't point out my strange behavior and simply accepted my greeting with kind smiles.
And then, I saw him.
A person with silver hair, one eye covered by his headband, and wearing a mask. He was standing in a shaded spot where the sunlight didn't reach, staring blankly—perhaps at nothingness. He looked like part of Asuma-san’s group, yet he stood apart, strangely distant. At the time, I didn't even know such a person existed in the village. I had no memory of ever seeing him. But who am I? I’m Iruka Umino, a man whose social skills are second to none. I figured, whether he was part of the group or not, it would be good to get to know each other.
"You're Asuma-niisan’s friend, right? I'm Iruka Umino! It's nice to meet you!"
I greeted him with a bright smile. But to my surprise, instead of responding, he completely ignored me. I didn't give up and tried again with a loud "Hello!" Still, no reaction. Usually, when I greet people like that, they smile and tell me their names, or at least give a nod. If it were now, I’d just think he lacked social skills or was in a bad mood. But as I’ve said many times, I was young. Nine years old is young, right? So… it’s a bit embarrassing, but I actually doubted if he was human. I wondered if he was a ghost.
Feeling uneasy, I grabbed Asuma-san’s sleeve. Asuma-san patted my head reassuringly. Just as I was starting to feel better, the mysterious man—who had been motionless since I first spoke—shifted his gaze toward me. Only one eye was visible, but it was so sharp. His gaze swept over me from head to toe so coldly that my hair stood on end, and I hid behind Asuma-san. You're asking what I was doing, acting so pathetic? You keep forgetting—I was young. Do you think you knew how to bloom into a beautiful flower back when you were just a seed? Did you grow up without ever doing anything embarrassing in your sprouting days? Hmph. I thought not.
Anyway, Asuma-san said, "It’s okay, Iruka," and gently detached my hand. The moment he let go, a chill ran down my spine, and I grabbed him again. Asuma-san tried to calm me down by patting my shoulder, but that single eye was so terrifying that I couldn't settle down. Finally, Asuma-san clicked his tongue and said:
"I told you, it's fine. He’s just a friend who traded his social skills for talent."
He tried to brush it off. "His name is Hata—" Asuma-san began, seemingly about to introduce him properly, when "Hata-san" coldly cut him off. What did he say? Did he criticize Asuma for being out of his mind? I don't remember the exact words, but the point was: Why are you sharing my name without permission? Then, he put his hands in his pockets and walked out of the shop. Gai-san reached out, asking where he was going and inviting him to hang out more, but he meanly dodged the hand and curtly said he had a mission starting now.
I was on my way home from the Academy, so the sun was just beginning to set. A mission at that hour? I thought he was just making excuses because he didn't want to talk to me. I figured he was enjoying time with his friends and disliked the "foreign object" named Iruka Umino intruding. I wondered why he hated the idea of fellow villagers knowing each other. It’s not like his name was some grand secret. I just thought he was a strange and scary person... and left it at that.
That was my first encounter with him. Though calling it an "encounter" might be a stretch, as it was a brief, trivial event that likely didn't even linger in his memory.
After that, whenever I ran into Asuma-san, I’d look around to see if that person was there. I wanted to greet him properly if we met again. In a way, his cold departure only made me more curious about him. But he was nowhere to be found. When I asked Asuma-san, he’d just scowl and say, "…He’s, well… complicated to talk about." When I asked Gai-san, he’d suddenly burst into tears, crying out, "My rival cannot enjoy the springtime of his youth!"
If they had just said they didn't know who I was talking about, I would have dismissed it as a childhood dream. But since everyone clearly knew him yet refused to tell me anything—and since I couldn't even catch a glimpse of his silver hair anymore—I became stubborn. I made it my goal: to see him with my own eyes again, to greet him properly, and to have a real conversation. All I knew was one eye and the name "Hata," yet… even now, I can't quite define what I was feeling back then. Anyway, I just couldn't get him out of my head.
But years passed without a single sighting of him in the village.
A lot happened during that time. The biggest event, of course, was the Nine-Tails' attack. Many people lost their lives that day. My parents were among them. I had to learn to live alone. Amidst crushing loneliness, I somehow graduated from the Academy, became a Genin, and started making a living by completing missions. Of course, I didn't just do missions. I helped out neighbors and worked at shops to earn extra pocket money. You're asking if the mission rewards weren't enough? Well, obviously, missions for Genin aren't high-ranked, so they don't pay much. I was so busy juggling various jobs that I didn't have the luxury of worrying about "Hata-san." My own survival was at stake; why would I care about someone else?
Then, I think I was twelve. Through a friend's introduction, I started working at a small shop—a tiny izakaya run by a retired shinobi. My job was simple: serving food and clearing tables after customers left. It wasn't a busy place; it felt like a spot only for regulars or friends of the owner.
Then, one day. The "Day of Destiny" arrived.
Did I just say destiny? Gosh, how embarrassing. But I truly thought it was fate. Why? Listen closely.
I had clocked in as usual and greeted the owner. I was clearing a table when he handed me a tray of food. He told me to take it to the room in the very back. Oh, he also added, "If the people inside do anything weird, just scream. I'll come running." I wondered what that was supposed to mean, but I just took the dishes and headed for the back room. It was tucked away in a corner, a room the owner rarely opened regardless of how many customers came. As I got closer, I could hear the muffled sounds of people laughing and chatting.
They seem to be having fun, I thought. I announced myself at the door and stepped inside.
Instantly, the chatter vanished. Silence filled the room. It was so abrupt I thought I’d lost my hearing. There were about a dozen people inside, all dressed in dark, somber gear. Not a single person moved or drank. I couldn't hear a rustle, let alone a breath. Overwhelmed by the atmosphere, goosebumps erupted all over my skin. I was just there to deliver food, but it felt like I was being dissected, like my very soul was being laid bare.
I debated whether this was the "weird behavior" the owner had warned me about. But since they weren't actually harming me—only making it hard to breathe with their sheer intensity—I decided to just do my job. Trembling with fear, I kept my eyes down and carefully, very carefully, began placing the dishes on the table. And then… I knocked over someone’s water cup. Stupid Iruka!
"Aaaaaggghhh!"
…I was the one who spilled it, but I was also the one who screamed. Yes, and quite loudly, too. Thanks to that, I heard a loud crash from the kitchen followed by the owner’s frantic footsteps. "What happened?!" he bellowed. He might have also said something like, "I told you lot to eat quietly and leave!"
I was at a total loss, stammering apologies over and over. I pulled a rag from my apron to wipe the soaked table and reached out with a handkerchief to dry the person who had just been doused. At that moment, the owner burst in. To put it mildly, he opened the door with such force it nearly flew off its hinges. As the sound of the owner’s heavy breathing harmonized with the drip-drip-drip of water falling from the table to the floor, the man who had been turned into a human fountain pushed my hand away and clicked his tongue.
"…Captain, your personality has certainly softened. Hiring a kid like this."
"A kid like this"? That was quite a stinging remark for me, but what could I do? It was my fault. And at that moment, every single person in the room burst into boisterous laughter. From "Gwahahaha" to "Kyakkyakkyak," the room was filled with every kind of laugh imaginable.
"Isn't it your fault for not dodging? You probably got hit on purpose and are playing innocent now." "A brat calling another brat 'a kid.' Have I turned eighty without noticing? You were a tiny sprout like him when we first met. Well, you still are." "It's a bit late, but consider this your hazing for being appointed Ro-Squad Captain." "Eh? Then we can't stop here. Someone bring a water bottle. If we're doing this, let's do it right."
The silence that had been so heavy moments ago was replaced by a chaotic party of madmen. Someone grabbed a water bottle from the end of the table, opened it, and started splashing it around. And then, the "prank" I thought was a joke actually happened. Two or three men stood up with bottles, stood on either side of the man I’d soaked, gave a "One, two, three!" signal, and poured the water over him simultaneously.
I shrieked again. But as I looked up to check on the poor man who was now a soaked rat from head to toe, there he was. The man I had been searching for, for years.
He had grown a bit since my memory of him, and his silver hair was plastered down by the water rather than spiky as before, but it was definitely him! The one from the dango shop when I was nine. The one Asuma-san called "complicated" and Gai-san called "the rival who lost his youth."
"Huh?!! 'Hata-san'?!!!"
Instead of calming the chaos as an employee, I leaned in and shouted the only two syllables I remembered, making things even more chaotic. "Hata-san" himself was squeezing his eyes shut, shaking his head like a dog to get the water off. He hooked a finger under the edge of his mask, pulling it slightly as if it was hard to breathe through the wet fabric, and muttered, "Who’s Hata?"
The people pouring water paused, tilted their heads, looked back and forth between me and "Hata-san," then nudged him.
"You know him?"
"No."
"But you're the only one here who could be called 'Hata.'"
"I told you, I don't know him. By the way, are we done?"
"No, one bottle left."
As soon as he said that, he reached out, grabbed the last bottle, and shuaaaa—poured it over "Hata-san." Even as the owner was shouting profanities in the back, telling them they’d better clean it all up, they emptied every last drop. Looking back, it was almost severe enough to be called workplace bullying, but "Hata-san" just brushed it off like a routine joke. He spat out some water and swept his drenched hair back with one hand.
A small droplet rolled down his cheek, hung from his chin, and then drip—fell. It was… strangely sexy. …Huh? Sexy? No, no. That’s not what I meant to say.
Anyway… having been hit with three bottles in a row, "Hata-san" leaned against the wall and sighed, looking exhausted. He told everyone to just drink already before the food got cold. The people with empty bottles chuckled, cleared the space, and sat back down as if nothing had happened. They started asking me for more water and filling their sake cups as if my shout of "Hata-san" never happened. Or rather, as if I didn't exist at all. I was just "Employee 1."
I could accept that. But strangely, the owner meant more than just "Shopkeeper 1" to them. They ignored his sighs and patted the seat next to them, insisting he join.
"Captain! Don't just stand there, sit and drink. We came here to boost your sales! We’ve got to celebrate your healthy retirement, even if it's a bit late." "Handing over the Ro-Squad Captain position to this brat and retiring as the Grand Commander… You’re living the easy life, Captain."
If only I had been sharp enough to catch the meaning of "Grand Commander" back then. I wouldn't have had to spend so much time and effort trying to figure out his identity. But alas, I was just a naive child. I wasn't brilliant enough to deduce the truth from a few sentences. …Should I say I’m still not that brilliant? My head hasn't improved much since then.
Anyway, at the time, I was just thinking: I'm gonna get scolded for spilling water, this guy isn't looking at me again, what is his name? I want to say hi, who are these people? is he okay being wet? oh right, they asked for water...
The strange customers treated me like I was less than the wallpaper and started their own conversation. The owner grumbled some curses but didn't refuse and sat down. Just as I was worrying about the kitchen, the owner told me we were closed for the night. He asked me to flip the sign to "Closed" and told me I could go home. Then, forgetting the room was a mess, he laughed and clinked glasses with them.
The situation was truly bizarre. …By the way, "Hata-san" looked about… three? Four years older than me? That would make him only 15 or 16 back then. Not exactly the age to be drinking sake… Hmph. Well, whatever. It’s not like my saying so would have changed anything. Let’s move past the thugs feeding alcohol to a minor.
And Butterfly-san. Please don't forget that a child in their early teens is scarier than anyone. …You’re asking who "Butterfly" is? It's you. …That’s not your name? I know. I’m sure the shop said you were a "Butterfly-something-flower," but I forgot. Sorry. I’ll just call you what I want.
Anyway, I was a well-known troublemaker in the village. After flipping the sign as the owner ordered, I dashed back into the room and shouted toward "Hata-san" with everything I had.
"Hello! I'm Iruka Umino of the Hidden Leaf! I've been looking for you for so long, and I finally found you! I saw you with Asuma-niisan at the dango shop years ago and tried to say hi, but I never got your name other than 'Hata.' Could you tell me this time?"
I sparkled my eyes, fully expecting a name since I had introduced myself so clearly. …What happened? What do you think happened? Well. It's embarrassing to say… but I was kicked out. And quite easily, too.
"Hata-san," who had been swirling his sake cup as if debating whether to drink, froze the moment I finished. Then, every single person in the room looked at me. Even the owner stood there with his mouth agape for a moment. That deafening silence returned—the kind where you can't even hear a breath. I felt that sensation again, like my internal organs were being scrutinized. Ugh. I really never want to experience that again….
"Um… hello? Ah, Boss, wait, gah!"
The owner grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and hauled me into the hallway. I was lifted so easily that my flailing didn't do a thing. When I saw him wipe his face with his large hand and let out a sigh that could sink the earth, my urge to yell "Boss!" vanished. I realized instinctively that I had made a massive mistake.
"Iruka."
"…Yes."
"I know you’re a social and energetic kid. That’s one of your strengths."
"…Yes."
"But there’s a time and a place. Even if you didn't know, you just committed a grave rudeness."
"Boss. Is asking for someone’s name really that big a mistake?"
"Depending on the circumstances, yes. You might not know why now, but you’ll understand later. You have to."
"……."
"You flipped the sign, right? Your work is done. Go on home."
"But the other customers—"
"I'll handle it. You just got here, but I'll pay you for the full day. Go home and come back tomorrow."
"…Yes."
…And so, my second encounter with that man ended in vain.
Looking back, I really did make a colossal mistake. I understand now why the owner reacted that way and why those mysterious guests gave me such chilling looks. Of course, back then, I knew nothing and spent my time complaining to Asuma-san. Is it so wrong to ask a name? What is his name? Are you not going to tell me either? I pestered him relentlessly, but I came up empty-handed.
I didn't see him again for several more years. Three years passed, then five, and I didn't see so much as a strand of his hair. Time moved on, and regardless of him, many things changed. For one, I became a Chunin, gained various experiences as a shinobi, and eventually took a desk job within the village.
…Just in case you’re thinking it, don't you dare look down on desk work! We make it so the shinobi out on missions can focus solely on their tasks! We handle the tedious paperwork like mission classification and assignment, set request fees, and distribute the pay to the right people! Sometimes Jonin—especially the ones who look down on Chunin like me in administration—really irritate me. Their narrow-mindedness is truly pitiful! Of course, going out and physically completing missions is important. I’m not devaluing that. But the people strengthening the village's foundation are just as important, though so many people fail to realize it! Phew… just thinking about it makes my blood boil.
…Wait, what was I saying? Oh, right. Becoming a desk ninja. Yes. Among various duties, I took a post at the Mission Desk. People think we just receive mission completion reports, but that’s not it. we handle quite a lot.
1. Receiving requests coming into the village.
2. Understanding the nature of the request and classifying it into the appropriate rank.
3. Tracking which shinobi are currently available in the village.
4. Assigning appropriate missions to each shinobi.
4-1. Exceptions: Requests for specific shinobi / High-rank missions that require waiting for a specific person to return, etc.
5. Receiving and inspecting mission reports from returning shinobi.
6. Classifying and organizing completed reports.
Basically, that’s what we do. Plus a lot of small administrative tasks. Fortunately, the desk work suited me. I liked meeting different people and having brief conversations. Also, I loved being able to check the standby list whenever I had free time. You think I’m just being a diligent worker? Hardly. It was purely to satisfy my personal curiosity.
I scanned the lists for anyone whose name started with "Hata." Hata-se Yuuki, Hata-me Kazuma, Hata-yama Yukari, Hata-oka Kohei, Hata-bara Rei, Hata-da Sho, Hata-no Yuuto, Hata-kawa Takuya, Hata-be Nanami, Hata-kata Rina….
Good grief. I never imagined there were so many people in the Hidden Leaf whose names started with "Hata." First, I filtered out the ones that looked like female names and etched the rest into my memory. After that, whenever I got the chance to look at Shinobi Registration Forms under the guise of "administrative processing," I checked them one by one. It was total self-interest masked as work. …To be honest, it was an abuse of power. I could have done some real damage with the profiles I saw back then—like selling info to another village. But that was never my intention. I was just desperate to find "Hata-san." It took a long time because I could only sneak peaks here and there, but I eventually checked every "Hata" on that list.
But he wasn't there.
I didn't give up. I checked the face of every single person who came in to submit a report, but I never saw him. Not once during the long years while flowers bloomed and withered, while the sun blazed and faded, and while green leaves fell to be replaced by soft white snow. I couldn't even find him at the Mission Desk—a place every shinobi must visit to receive and complete tasks. My lips felt parched from the frustration. I started wondering if he was on some multi-year long-term mission, or—and I truly hoped this wasn't the case—if he was someone who would never return.
Since agonizing over it alone wouldn't change anything, I eventually asked Asuma-san again. I brought it up naturally during a conversation, as if it had just popped into my head. I asked how that "Hata-san" from the dango shop was doing, and if he could finally tell me his name after all this time. Asuma-san’s face became unreadable. He put a cigarette in his mouth and just took a long drag without saying a word.
Butterfly-san, you can't imagine how anxious I was. As the smoke from his deep sigh thinned and vanished into the air, I stared at Asuma-san’s lips, terrified he would tell me the name only to follow it with "He’s no longer of this world." After a long silence and a short click of his tongue, those heavy lips finally opened.
"Why are you looking for him so much when you've never even had a proper greeting?"
"Because I didn't get to greet him properly, that’s why!"
"Hmm… isn't it time to give up? You saw it for yourself back then; even if you meet him by chance, he's not the type to accept a greeting."
You have no idea how relieved I was to hear those cold words telling me to give up. At the very least, it meant he was alive. I had gained information even more precious than his name. As long as he's alive, we'll meet again someday, I thought.
Once that thought took root, I was finally able to let go of the strange obsession I’d held alone. "As long as he's alive, we'll meet again." I felt so at peace I dared to imagine this was how a sage felt after reaching enlightenment. With the distracting thoughts gone, I was able to focus better on my work. I lived my life faithfully as an ordinary Chunin.
I really did live that way. But paradoxically, the moment I let go, I found out his name.
"Copy Ninja Kakashi."
Yes. The man I had been so desperate to know was Kakashi Hatake, a Jonin of the Hidden Leaf. A man so skilled he was in the Bingo Books of other nations, and whose name and face—despite being in the ANBU—were famous far and wide. I wasn't worried it might be someone else. Silver hair, a headband always tilted to one side, and a mask covering everything but one eye. Whenever the "Copy Ninja" came up among shinobi, those physical traits were always mentioned. The chances of two people in the village having such a unique appearance were slim, so I connected the "Hata-san" of my memory to "Kakashi Hatake."
I had spent more than half my childhood trying to find out, but when I finally knew, I wasn't even that excited. I just felt a dull sense of "Ah, so the mystery is finally solved." It was also the moment all the riddles—why they hid it, why Asuma-san wouldn't tell me—were unraveled.
What ANBU would give their name to a stranger? And who would recklessly reveal an ANBU’s name to others?
Feeling ashamed of my stupid, foolish, younger self, I went back to the shop where I used to work. I sat in front of the owner—whose hair was now streaked with gray—and drank straight from the bottle. "You must have had a hard time working with such a dumb kid," "I'm so sorry I dared to ask for an ANBU’s name without reading the room," "But if he was going to become this famous anyway, he could've just told me then, right?" "Ah, there I go being stupid again," "Iruka, you idiot, you haven't changed a bit," "Boss, what am I going to do if I'm this dumb?" "Hah… why are you taking the bottle? I'm gonna drink more! Give it back! Hey! Is the owner hitting a customer? Ack! Boss, I'm sorry! Give it here, I'll drink quietly…." I made a total fool of myself, babbling all sorts of things. It was the day a ten-year mystery was solved, so please be generous.
Anyway, after that, I let go of the mysterious Hata-san and focused on my own life. I’m an adult who can take care of himself now.
Once I was free from the self-imposed obligation to find him, I felt light. I started changing my attitude at the Mission Desk, moving from mechanical responses to working with all my heart. I opened up more to my colleagues and started tailoring my words to the shinobi coming in by noticing their traits or current state. It sounds grand when I put it that way, but it really wasn't. It was just small talk to help the returning shinobi ease their tension.
So, what am I trying to say? Fine, fine… I'll get to it. You really have no patience.
The thing is, that man… ha, I'm serious! That man showed up at the Mission Standby Station today!!!!! You're asking why I was there if I work at the Desk? I told you, I have various administrative duties! Is that what’s important right now?! Butterfly-san! Focus!!!
I’m telling you, that man showed up at the Standby Station today?!!!??!?
Wait, isn't he ANBU? Did he retire? Why is he here in standard gear? Total confusion washed over me. It seemed the same for everyone else in the station, as the room was soon filled with whispers.
"Is that Kakashi Hatake?"
"I want to talk to him."
"He doesn't look that amazing,"
"Behind that headband is the Sharingan…."
The man who was the center of everyone’s attention just stood there with a slouch, his eye unfocused as if he were looking at nothing, completely devoid of energy. Gai-san was next to him. As always, he was in his green jumpsuit—I still doubt if that’s actually a combat uniform—with a grin so bright it was almost burdensome.
"Now, Kakashi! Let’s go inside and sit down!"
Gai-san grabbed the arm of the man who clearly didn't want to be there and forced him onto a sofa. He bustled about, getting hot water for tea, thrusting it into Kakashi-san’s hands, and placing a random book next to him. Then he sat opposite him, shifting his eyes and watching him like someone who had done something wrong. Soon after, Asuma-san and Kurenai-san entered. They greeted the people around them and naturally sat on either side of Kakashi-san. …Honestly, it looked like they were surrounding him to keep him from escaping. Those who looked like they wanted to talk to him quickly gave up and went back to their business once they saw several Jonin flanking him.
I was one of them. The man I had searched for so desperately since the dango shop was now in the same room, right in front of my eyes. I thought I’d become indifferent, but my heart started racing again. …Don't get the wrong idea. It was just from the shock and excitement of seeing him! My heart was just thumping on its own. I was dying to say hello, but unfortunately, I had work to do. So, I kept my ears and all my senses focused on them while my hands stayed busy with the paperwork. I didn't know I was capable of multitasking like that.
"Kakashi. you haven't rested much lately. Don't think of this in a bad way; why not take this chance to get some rest?"
"He’s right. Talk to people a bit, too."
"Ah, Iruka. When you're done with that, could you classify these too?"
Honestly, I wanted to say, "No! As soon as I'm done with this, I'm going to go say hi to that man! I want us to actually exchange names this time!" But my sense of duty and the rational part of my brain—the part that knew offending a senior would make my work life miserable—forced me to give the "Kind and Social Iruka Umino" answer.
"Yes! Please leave them here."
Dammit. Talking about it makes me mad all over again. I was hoping if I finished the paperwork quickly, I could go over.
"Rest… you say."
"Do you realize you look like you could collapse any second? You looked like someone trying to die on a mission."
"You saw right. You should’ve just left me alone instead of meddling."
"What?"
"Kakashi!"
"…Never mind. That came out wrong. It was a joke, forget it."
People started crowding into the station, so I couldn't hear the rest of the conversation. But I could see the Jonin still surrounding him and talking. Eventually, the man stood up, still looking at nothing with those listless eyes. Asuma-san grabbed his wrist, but he brushed it off and swept his hair back, looking annoyed.
"Kakashi."
"*sigh*…."
"Where are you going?"
"I'm not going off to die, at least. Don't worry."
With that, he wobbled out of the station as if he might faint. Those who were about to approach him took a step back, sensing some kind of pressure, and slunk away. He didn't give them a single glance before vanishing. In that moment, the corners of Gai-san’s mouth—usually fixed in a bright smile—dropped into a look of deep sorrow. It was heartbreaking to see.
I finished my immediate task, tapped the papers together to neaten them, put them in the bin, and walked over to the three somber Jonin with some light snacks.
"Um… are you all okay? Here, have some of this…."
"Ah, Iruka…."
Unlike Kurenai-san, who welcomed me with a bright smile, Gai-san looked at me with eyes that seemed ready to leak tears. Asuma-san pulled out a cigarette, flicked his lighter on and off a few times, then spoke as if something had just occurred to him.
"Come to think of it, I guess I can tell you now."
"Pardon?"
"That was him. The person you were looking for."
"Ah… I figured as much."
I was curious and wanted confirmation, but I’m a person who can read the room. I was planning to ask later, naturally, like "Oh, was that him?" Not in this "sinking into the floor" kind of atmosphere. Asuma-san, unaware of my complicated feelings, sat up straight and looked me in the eye.
"Do me a favor."
"Anything I can do, sir."
"Help Kakashi out."
"…Excuse me?!"
Me? Help? With what? A Chunin helping a Jonin? An ordinary ninja helping a former ANBU? I had no idea how I could help, and I doubted my help was even needed. I mean, it’s the Kakashi Hatake. Would someone like him need the help of a mere desk ninja? …No, Butterfly-san! I’m not looking down on desk work, it’s a genuine question! Think about it objectively. I work inside the village, and he’s a combat specialist who spends most of his time outside. What could I possibly offer him?
Sensing my confusion, Asuma-san shrugged and continued.
"That guy… he won't be able to adjust for a while. He’s lived on the battlefield for so long that he doesn't know how to live in a village."
"…."
"His way of thinking is different from a normal shinobi. He’ll probably do things that others won't understand. You might even feel like he’s ignoring you. But he doesn't do those things with bad intentions. It’s just… in the place where he lived, those things were normal, and he only survived because he did them. It's become unconscious."
"I… see."
"We'll look after him, but we can't be in the village all the time. Even if Kakashi does something strange—something you find completely incomprehensible—please, for our sake… don't get too angry and just teach him. He’s a smart kid; he’ll pick it up quickly. Please? I'm asking you as a favor."
I don't even know how I finished the rest of my shift. I spent the whole time wondering how I could help, then clocked out when my shift was over. On my way home, I bought you. Then I came home, grabbed you, and told you all of this. And, well. Here we are.
Butterfly-san. What on earth is happening? Give me an answer. Please?