Those Little Moments (Hatake Kakashi)

18

Kakashi:

I had been expecting to find Emiko with Guy when we got back from the Land of Waves, but when I ran into him, he explained that she had drunk enough the night before for him to give her a break. When he said it was my job again to protect her instead of his, I don't know how to describe how I felt. Relieved, happy? The loss of guilty panic?

I ignored it, anyways, and went back home, only to find her bed—once my bed—empty and still made. When I checked the bed I'd made for myself, however, I found her fast asleep despite the open blinds, hugging my pillow. Even though her hair was a mess and her mouth was half open, my first thought was that she looked beautiful.

I chased it from my mind as I reached out to gently shake her awake. I wondered if she was still drunk when she asked Kurenai to either cuddle her or leave, but I couldn't help but almost think for a moment that she was asking me. I started to shake her again, and she just started hitting my hand away, before finally realizing I wasn't Kurenai. Maybe cute was a better word than beautiful right now. Cute, the perfect adjective of someone to be protected. That's how I should think of her, to make sure I don't fail.

And then, she was awake, finally, lying on her back, on my bed, and smiling up at me. This was a perfect example of how useful wearing a mask is. Even when she was threatening to punch me, I was still smiling at her, even if she didn't know it from how I controlled my eyes. And then, and then, she whispered that she'd missed me, and I found my thoughts were no longer protective of her in that moment. Instead, there was a longing that I tried desperately to kill, reminding me that she was my responsibility, and I couldn't abandon that for even a moment, otherwise she would be gone again before I knew it, Naruto, Minato's son, would be parentless again, and I would once again have failed my comrade.

It didn't help that, even all throughout breakfast, she was in that adorable competitive mood, and again, if it weren't for my mask, she would've seen the shit-eating grin I tried to keep down but just couldn't.

As if I hadn't had enough close calls already, she pulled that while we were sparring. If I didn't know her, I would've thought she was teasing me on purpose, straddling me like that even after the fight was over to force me to think of her as something else, other than to be protected, but wow, she looked like an angel with the sun shining around her hair like that, and her eyes were so wide and green and I wanted to stare at them forever.

And then, she realized what I'd implied, and she blushed, and I would swear she has the prettiest blush in the world. In another world, where I hadn't already failed once, I would've tucked that piece of hair hiding her face from me behind her ear the second it fell so it wouldn't stop me from looking at her.

Back when we were kids, I had stared at her often trying to figure her out, but now, I just wanted to look at her only for the sake of being able to see her. I shouldn't though, I'm not here to be her friend, I'm here to protect her.

Until that moment, I had been trying to ignore the fondness I knew I had for Emiko, starting probably one of those first nights she had made dinner for Naruto and been so excited about being able to do something so normal, but I couldn't ignore it, even if I wouldn't act on it. Emiko had been through too much for me to ever consider doing anything other than protecting her, and she wasn't strong enough to protect herself. That was a fact my being Emiko's guardian relied on, and yet, she had beaten me, even if not trying at 100%. 

She didn't know this, but I hadn't been going as easy on her as she thought. I hadn't prepared myself for a difficult battle, but I was at my full level of taijutsu and hadn't expected her to be able to conjure such precise chains.I had been trying enough that it proved her strength, but even then I told myself she needed me to be her protector. I knew I couldn't be her friend the way I wanted to be. But still, a man could dream. And I often dreamt of her, starting from that moment, where I knew deep down I was wrong, that it was now her own responsibility to take care of herself. 

It was little things, dreaming we were in the apartment and she was making dinner, and she'd get adorably mad at me for pointing out how long it was taking. Sometimes, we were out for drinks, and when I inevitably had to carry her home, she would wrap her arms around me tighter than in real life and feel safe enough to fall asleep. Sometimes, we would both just read in the living room, sitting on the couch next to each other with each our own book. 

Sometimes, we would spar and be joking as well, and she would let me train her instead of Guy, then I could see her progress and know she would be all right. That way I could protect her indirectly. But indirectness would never assuage that looming terror and foreseen guilt. I couldn't be her friend, not the way I am.