Evenings at the Ichiraku Ramen

Quinquereme

.

The dust fell lightly on her shoulders, exposed by the shafts of pre-dawn light. He watched as her chest rose and fell in perfect timing with the second hand of the clock in the Hokage's office: inhale, five ticks, exhale. A heavy silence, broken only by his breathing. He was suddenly conscious of his intrusion.

Kakashi looked around and found himself startled by the exquisitely arranged chaos within the room. There were three teapots positioned equidistantly on the floor. Three tall paper stacks lined one side of Tsunade's desk, on which her assistant was currently sleeping. Her hair covered part of her face, her fist still clutching a pen.

He moved silently, taking care not to wake her. He was here to pick up a set of documents as instructed by the Hokage. It was for a mission to Kirigakure; the rest of his team was already assembled at the village gates. An escort mission. They would return in three, maybe four days.

Kakashi found the file, paused to contemplate her sleeping form once more, and in a seizure of—he didn't know what to call it, so he settled for the word compassion—took one of her small, pale hands in his own.

.ooo.

It was Friday, and they came back as scheduled. Three and a half bodies out of four. Tsunade watched, chest tightening as they bit back their tears, watched the fatigue in their arms and the blankness in their eyes. Tsunade turned away from her window, and motioned angrily to the young woman sitting at her desk. Her voice carried a harsh tone as she issued the order. Round the clock care. Physical, psychological. Whatever it took to restore them completely. Even before she barked out the words, Tsunade knew it couldn't be done. But they were shinobi It was an unfortunate occupational hazard they all had to deal with.

Shizune fled to the hospital, thinking 'three and a half, three and a half,' heart beating too hard, too fast, feeling the wind bite at her cheeks as she shuffled towards the entrance and into the hallways, finally hurling her body against the emergency room door and seeing the too-familiar red of newly loosened blood.

.ooo.

When everything had been said and done, he was laid on a bed and put in a room, suffering only minor cuts and a few broken ribs. A two day rest at the most, with lots of sleep and rest and food.

She watched him while she slept, and when he woke to stare vacantly at the ceiling, she did the rounds, taking care of the other two. It was uncharacteristic foolishness, she learned later on, that had killed the fourth jōnin. And the culprits unsurprisingly ninja from the Sound. An ambush. The Kirigakure envoy was safe, with three casualties from their own team. The details were lost in the blur of bandages, wails and antiseptic. She gave him a day, knowing he would brood, knowing he would shoulder the guilt and take responsibility for the lost life. What was important was that he was still breathing.

When he opened his eyes later that afternoon, feeling good enough to ask for his battered copy of Icha Icha Paradise, she was cutting bite-sized portions of cucumber.

"You," he croaked, probing her face with one eye.

"Me." She stood and moved to his side. "Don't sit up yet. You're almost done, you'll be released later tonight."

"Can I have my Icha Icha Paradise, please?" She wrinkled her nose at this, before retrieving it from a nearby side table drawer and dropping it gingerly in his lap.

"Thanks." He picked the book up, but did not open it.

She let a few moments of silence pass between them, and felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude rush through her. She fought back against the wild impulse to throw her arms around him and murmur things and cry. Instead, she asked if he was hungry. He nodded.

"Cucumbers," she said. He watched as she took a piece, wrapped it carefully in nori, and dipped it into a little container of soy sauce. He let her feed him. The closeness of this gesture was disconcerting, and the newness of it stood out like a splash of fresh blood in the snow.

It was when she stood to wash her hands that he closed his eye and spoke quietly, surprising her.

"He didn't see the trap." A pause, and then, "We did."

She marveled at the sudden hollowness of his voice, and at the sadness it brought her. The water cooled her hands, she dried them and walked to the bed where he lay. She waited for him to continue, but he did not. And when the impulse came to take his still-broken body into her arms, she did not fight it.

Gently, Shizune sat beside him and laid her head against his chest, and said the only thing she could think of. "You are here, now."

Her lip trembled, and without warning, the tiniest of sobs escaped. If Kakashi was surprised, he didn't show it. Instead, he closed his eyes and thanked the gods that she existed; that, somehow, there was someone who could at least shed tears for the both of them; for her warmth nestled against his warmth; for the fact that he was here, now.

Neither of them said anything for a very long time. Kakashi drifted off into sleep. When he woke, the throbbing pain in his upper body was gone, it was dark outside, and he was alone in the room. A few minutes later, the door to his room opened, and a nurse carrying a clipboard announced that he could pick up his things in the hospital lobby and leave.

.ooo.

This time, she was waiting for him.

The ramen bar still had that unapologetically bright neon-lit sign, and on the counter sat two steaming bowls of the only dish they both ever ordered. Two mugs of hot tea accompanied the bowls. It was a cool, windy night, and Teuchi was humming an old song again. There were no crickets this time, just the tinkling of the windchimes and the sound of the ramen bar owner's voice.

He sat beside her, resuming the familiar routine.

"Shizune."

"Kakashi."

"Is this mine?" He eyed the bowl.

"No one else eats here at this hour." She smiled at him.

"Mmm." He reached for a pair of chopsticks, broke them. "The cucumber and the nori, where'd you learn to prepare them like that?"

"I read it in a book." She drank from her mug of tea. "The character was taking care of an old man. He fed him cucumber slices done like that. And it worked." She tilted her head to one side. "To a degree."

"I see."

They finished the rest of their meal in companionable silence, which was an odd thing, Teuchi observed. Usually, they finished the extra-large bowls and spent the rest of the evening engaged in animated conversation. He wondered what had changed. When the two bowls stood clean and the tea mugs empty, Shizune paid for the food and turned to her companion.

"Walk me home?"

He nodded.

They both stood to leave, and Teuchi collected the bowls, putting them into the sink along with the cups. He watched their figures grew smaller in the distance, bodies fading gradually into the darkness. There were no crickets that night, but there were fireflies.

A foot apart along the dusty roads of the village, as always. He on the left, she on the right. Kakashi was acutely aware of everything around him: the electric lines, the darkened windows, the birds perched on the roof-gutters of the Konoha police station. He didn't look at her, instead focusing on the sounds their footsteps made upon contact with the ground. The sounds stopped after some time, and Shizune fixed him with that probing gaze he had grown accustomed to.

He returned the gaze. "Yes?"

She opened her mouth to reply, thought better of it, and said nothing.

"We're almost at your office, you know." He studied the shadows cast on her face, the soft features and narrow jawline. She was not strikingly, breathtakingly beautiful like how most men considered Tsunade to be. Shizune possessed a subtle loveliness that made him think of wildflowers.

"I want you," she said softly, "to know something." She took a step forward: all that was needed to close the gap between them, reaching out and pulling down his mask, not sparing a moment to think, pressing her mouth against his. If Kakashi was startled, he didn't show it, choosing instead to pull her closer and keep her there, warm against his body.

When they pulled apart a few moments later, he took her hand, and she perceived a shyness in the gesture.

"Let's go, Shizune."


You came to my life
with what you were bringing,
made
of light and bread and shadow I expected you,
and Like this I need you,
Like this I love you.

Pablo Neruda


A/N:

And that's done. Thank you dear readers and reviewers. Explanation for the quicker-than-usual update: I suddenly woke up and just knew where I wanted the story to go, heheh. Kakashi and Shizune are two people I imagine to be very careful and quiet when it comes to relationships, and I hope I was able to get that across in this story. Chapter three turned out a little different from what I expected, but I hope you guys enjoy this!

Much love, Q.