Part 3

Kakashi was an exceptionally skilled shinobi, and Iruka had formidable abilities within his areas of expertise. What they were not, however, was experienced sailors, and no amount of stealth or charm could fool the ocean.

When they woke up that morning, the sky was steel gray. A gusty wind was blowing off the water, throwing up a heavy spray and leaving their boat rocking at harbor. Kakashi had taken one look at the reels of fast moving clouds and considered calling off their foray.

Howver, today they had intended their first breech into the forbidden fishing lane and both were reluctant to put it off. Already, they had been here for three weeks and both were growing weary – of the food, the weather, and the strain of unfamiliar work. Which is why they ultimately pulled on their gear, untied their craft, and steered into the unknowable danger of the tempest sea.

It was a mistake.

Before midday, they had lost all ability to steer. The sails ripped from their hands, twisting and tearing under the onslaught of the rising wind. Daylight was shuttered out, and the water peeked, folded, and flooded them, filling up the space around their ankles. Iruka and Kakashi fought for their lives under a torrent of blinding rain like sheeted ice. But they didn't have the experience. Their vessel was too small.

And in the end, all they could do was hold on.

They woke up in the drifting ocean, wedged tightly together in the stern of their boat. Kakashi's eyes were heavy when he stained to open them, and he blinked several times before he realized that the eternal stretch of gray all around him was actually a meeting of the sky and sea.

Pale bangs hung before his eyes like wet streamers as he shakily drew himself up and looked down at his trembling hands, so cold he could hardly feel them. All he wanted to do was sink back down into the tight, damp hollow of body heat he had just vacated, but as the wind cut through him, he realized they were still in danger.

"Iruka," Kakashi said, or tried to; his voice was so hoarse that he had to cough and try again. He reached out to jostle his subordinate. "Iruka."

Iruka had not awoken. Instead, he shivered fitfully, face hidden under a curled forearm. It took another shake to bring him back to consciousness, and even then he didn't look well. The rims of his eyelids were a livid red from the salt water, and they blinked so slowly that Kakashi instinctively reached out to check his head for injuries. He found nothing.

Together, they fought for the shore, forced to take up the oars. It was a long, difficult effort, and when they finally reached their sad little wharf, Iruka was listing, his eyes half shut. Kakashi had to help him out of the boat.

Inside, they were met by a near-hysterical Guruko. He pawed and fretted and whined, finally burying his head in Iruka's lap when Kakashi propped the man up against their bed. Flinging aside his oiled overcoat, he went immediately to the stove, though his fingers were almost too numb to work the latch.

"Boss." Guruko's voice was a low growl of fear. "Boss, he looks bad. He's shaking –"

With a near groan of effort, Kakashi turned away from the slowly maturing blaze and returned to his hunched partner. "Iruka," he said, reaching out. "Come over by the grate."

The man almost convulsed when Kakashi's fingers came into contact with his skin, his shuddering becoming so pronounced that Kakashi was alarmed. Iruka was ice cold and drenched to the bone…and it was only then that Kakashi noticed Iruka's dingy brown cloak was black with water. He touched it, felt how saturated it was, and almost saw red with sudden rage. "You idiot! Why aren't you wearing your oiled cloak?"

Iruka was shivering helplessly, almost too much to respond, but before he lapsed into a fit of coughing, he managed to rasp, "I couldn't fix mine."

Kakashi didn't have the energy to hold onto his anger, any more than Iruka was capable of understanding it. Instead, his brilliant mind began churning calculations: the time spent in the bottom of that leaking boat, the exertion of fighting the storm, the temperature, the rain. Iruka's dark hair was still dripping down his neck, which was paler than he had ever seen it. It didn't take a genius to understand; Iruka was dangerously hypothermic.

"Boss…" Guroko whined.

He did not need to be told. Kakashi had already hauled Iruka's unresisting body nearer the small circumference of heat and began to strip off his sodden clothing. He could feel the man shuddering beneath his hands, dazed eyes glancing off everything without seeing them. Once, he reached stiffly for his hair.

"Let me," Kakashi said, wringing it out and shoving his partner nearer the stove while he went to get dry clothes for both of them. Iruka was coughing harshly when he returned, wet sounding coughs that bent him in half. Even in the warmest clothing they owned and tucked under their thickest blanket, he still he shook as though he would come apart at any moment.

"Kakashi," Iruka said around chattering teeth. Kakashi heard the plea and crawled into bed beside him. He was rewarded by a small, shuddering sigh of relief, but it was already far too hot against his shoulder.

All night long, Kakashi switched between fighting Iruka's growing fever and managing the intermittent chill. He forced him small sips of water, tended the fire, and pulled up the coarse blankets which quickly became twisted around Iruka's restless limbs.

By morning, he knew he needed help. Iruka had stopped thrashing sometime in the early morning and laid still, but the fever had not broken and the wheezing in his chest sounded very weak. He left Guruko beside him, muzzle propped against Iruka's stomach, and headed into the village.

The herbalist frowned deeply when she heard. "You were out in that storm all night? Why? There's nothing to catch when the sea's that rough."

"We couldn't get back in," Kakashi answered honestly. Weariness made his voice husky, and he was squinting against a headache that pounded against the back of his eyes. The woman took one look at him and added chamomile to the package she was wrapping. "It's tea," she explained. "He'll need to take it as hot as he can stand and as much as he can drink. If you need more, you should send that mutt of yours. I've seen him fetch things before."

"He's a smart dog," Kakashi murmured by way of explanation.

"Then it's better you don't leave your brother again today unless the fever breaks. Besides, you look as though lying down would be the best for you, too."

Kakashi nodded. He was too tired to do anything else; even his lingering anger at Iruka for not telling him about the ruined jacket was cottoned under the lethargy he felt. "Thank you," he said, just remembered his manners as he pushed away from the counter and straightened carefully.

The woman listened to the sound of his bones creaking, took in the lines on his face – of worry and exhaustion – and her expression softened. "It's good to know that I've been judging you too harshly. Take care of yourself and him, too, you hear?"

Once again, a nod was the only thing that Kakashi could muster. He turned slowly and made his way out of the village and back to their dismal hut.

"We're running out of time," Kakashi said several days later, even as he packed a bag of equipment and checked his cloak for tears. His teammate was frowning at his back, the air between them thick with disapproval.

Iruka was sitting up in bed, but not very steadily. Already, his lidded eyes were slipping, though he was fighting hard to remain awake. "This is a bad idea," he said hoarsely, shaking his head. "You shouldn't go out there alone, especially not to investigate the fishing lanes."

"It's what we need to do to finish this mission. You were the one to intercept that message at the manor. It has to be done now, and you're not strong enough."

Only seconds later, he realized how that must have sounded and turned to rephrase, but Iruka had already ducked his head, expression hidden. Sighing, Kakashi abandoned his gear and went to the bedside.

"Iruka," he said. "I would be a poor commander if I allowed an obviously sick teammate join me on such a risky venture. Not when it won't affect our chances of success."

"Suppose you have to outrun a patrol," the other challenged. "Or the weather turns bad again. You won't be able to maneuver the boat as well on your own."

Kakashi looked at Iruka and attempted to see the obnoxious, insolent burden he thought he would be stuck with during this mission. Instead, all he could see was his comrade, the man he had spent the last month eating and sleeping and surviving beside. The man who now sat, barely upright, pale and still slightly fevered. Still prone to fits of coughing. Still with a wheeze on his breath.

"No," he decided with finality, though not without some regret. "I'll just have to manage without you.

Kakashi successfully maneuvered into the northern sea where Ohidai's people were not permitted to go. The ocean was reasonably still that day, but there was a kind of low-hanging fog that reduced visibility. Kakashi seized the advantage it gave him, steering silent and unseen with his senses thrown wide. He shifted through the water patiently. Looking, waiting, searching. Until finally…

There.

Drawing a glass, Kakashi observed a brief rendezvous, two ships coming together in the middle of the miasma. After a few moments, a smug, satisfied smile crept onto his face. He recognized both ships, without a shadow of a doubt. One he saw almost every day, tied to the large, neat port outside the manor. As for the other, well; there really was no mistaking the foreign cut of those sails.

He was already steering around, ready to head back toward the shore, when he was suddenly brought up short by a shadow shifting out of the white mist. He banked hard, working the rudder to avoid a collision even as he angled to get away, but the patrol boat had already spotted him.

As the much more powerful craft pulled along side, Kakashi looked up and realized that he had only one option short of completely dissolving their cover. It was hard to keep his body loose and empty of aggression, but he managed. 'I am a civilian,' he reminded himself. Still, it was not easy, and the swarthy, dark-eyed faces that peered at him from a position of power did nothing to make it easier.

"You were warned," they said, and Kakashi felt something in his stomach sink.

A crowd began to gather when they brought Kakashi ashore. It was near the end of the workday and the other fishers were just pulling in. When they saw the patrolmen hauling one of their own out of a boat, they went to join their wide-eyed wives, their frightened children, and listened to what the daiymo's men said:

"Lord Ohidai gave you all a warning about what would happen if you didn't stay out of those waters. Now we'll have to make an example that you won't be able to ignore."

Kakashi was put on his knees. His arms had been bound in an uncomfortable knot above his head. He could feel how exposed his back was, remembered what he'd heard them say that night at the tavern.

Public flogging.

'I'm a shinobi,' he thought stubbornly and with some contempt. He wrapped that feeling around him like a protective barrier, mentally preparing for the inevitable. 'Let them do their worst.'

The thought had barely passed through is mind when the crowd made their first noise, a kind of inward drawn breath, a stricken protest. Kakashi raised his head to see if the whip had come out, but what he saw instead tore something loose inside him and made his sullen, stoic heart grind with dread.

Iruka.

He was sagging between two men as they dragged him from the narrow, winding lane that lead from their shack. He was flushed, his expression disoriented. Barefoot. No jacket. Had they hauled him out of bed that way, the bastards?

"No," a female voice pleaded. The herbalist, Kakashi categorized as though from great distance. "He's sick! He wasn't even out there today!"

"They're partners, aren't they," came the remorseless answer as Iruka was shoved down beside his 'brother' and his limp hands were pulled up. There was no resistance; Iruka had started coughing the moment his knees hit the ground, and for a long time all he could do was gasp for air.

Ignoring the grit baring into his knees, the fitful, drizzling mist that was just starting up, Kakashi spoke in a voice pitched too low for anyone but the man beside him to hear. "Can you?" he asked.

Iruka drew a congested breath. "I'm strong enough," was all he said.

Then they both put their heads down and waited for the sound of the lash.

"So," Iruka said later as they lay stretched carefully on their sides on the narrow, moldy mattress. "Do you think we've established that Ohidai has something to hide?"

The answer was muffled by the way Kakashi's face was buried in the mattress, but the message was nonetheless easily understandable: "Damn straight."

"And the villagers?"

"I'm willing to report a more than reasonable certainty they would support a change in power."

Grimacing as he shifted, Iruka commented, "They did seem fairly concerned."

"When you started crying, I thought they were going to revolt right there and throw those men straight into the sea."

For a moment, a flush crowded out even the discomfort from Iruka's face. "You know that was the point," he said.

Kakashi nodded stiffly, a movement which set the entire long length of his back twinging. He grunted; everything hurt. "So, reasonable certainty exists that the daimyo is mucking around with Mist, and the villagers are little fish in a much bigger game."

"Agreed."

Gritted, chattering teeth filled the silence as they drew closer still, shoulders curling inward. The wind outside still whistled in the planks of the shack. The boards of their shelter creaked. In its belly of metal, the fire flickered so dim as to almost be out, but it was painful to pull up the blanket.

"Gods, this has been a sucky mission," Kakashi moaned after awhile.

Guruko huffed from somewhere near their feet. "Called it."

"This is very good, Kakashi," the Sandaime commented later. He had the details of their report spread before him, and was looking over it with a careful eye. It was obvious he was pleased. "With your statement and the additional intelligence you and Iruka have gathered, I can take action now without scruple."

Kakashi ducked his head, noting the sensation of burning that still persisted when he did so.

"I'm pleased the common people weren't involved," the old man went on. "That would not have been pleasant."

"They're a relatively good sort,' Kakashi said honestly. He remembered their sadness when the two brothers had, understandably, decided to move away once they had healed enough to travel. He added, "For fishermen, anyway."

A knowing smile filled the creases of the weathered face. "Ah. And what did you think of the profession, Kakashi? I expect it had its moments of difficulty."

Kakashi simply looked at his leader for a long moment; there were some things for which even the dourest expressions were just not adequate. The Sandaime gave a throaty chuckle nonetheless, waving his hand in a dismissal.

"Just go home and rest. You have my word that there will be at least two weeks before you're asked to leave the village again. Well done."

The jounin was almost out the door when the Sandaime called, "Oh, and Kakashi."

He turned. "Yes?"

"I'm curious what you came to think of Iruka."

There was a long, considering pause during which Kakashi thought of gutted fish, cold nights, sewing needles, bedbugs, fevers, and a storm on the ocean. Somehow it all became tangled until the words fell out of his mouth, "He's something like the sea. Unpredictable and brackish and, at the same time, striking."

The Hokage gave a small, sly smile. "Kakashi," he said, "I didn't know you were capable of poetry."

The younger shinobi just grunted, slipping out of the office. Pakkun was waiting for him on the other side, his compressed face more crumpled than usual. "Guruko says to tell you that Iruka's doing better. He wants to know if you're coming over to visit now."

"Maa," Kakashi said with an exaggerated, withering sigh. "I always end up at the hospital at the end of team missions."

Two great brown eyes whirled, exasperated. "Well, it's no wonder, is it?" the pug said. "They have to spend so much time with you."

Notes:

[1] Kotatsu – A low table frame covered by a heavy blanket, upon which a table top sits. Underneath is a heater, often built into the table itself.

[2] Ooya-san – Literally, landlord or landlady.

[3] Awa-ben – An actual dialect on the northeastern coast of Shikoku, Japan. "Awa" means foam, whereas "ben" indicates that it is a dialect.

[4] Ginger root – As used by the Chinese, for congestion and sinus pain among other things. Taken brewed as tea.

[5] Mochi balls – Actually, Iruka is eating daifuku mochi – sticky balls of mashed rice filled with anko, or sweet bean paste – which are basically God's gift to mankind.