Ship: Kakashi Hatake x Obito Uchiha

Genres: Slice of Life – Humor / One-shot

Rating: +8

Summary: It could have been worse than a village full of shinobi. It could have been a village full of shinobi… who were bored.

Enjoy!

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Asuma was quietly smoking outside the mission office when Genma joined him, leaning against the wall beside him.

They exchanged a quick greeting, their eyes fixed on the same scene before them, mesmerised.

All around them, the village went about its daily business, but for them, time seemed to stand still.

Iruka joined them at the end of his shift, completely exhausted, but seemed revitalised by the sight.

“How long has it been?” he gasped.

“A good hour,” Asuma informed him. “They’d almost be cute, wouldn’t they?”

The two shinobi chuckled at the description, which must have been a world away from Obito shouting at his genin, who were no slouches themselves, under the discreet gaze of Kakashi on the rooftops.

“What time shall we meet up tomorrow?” asked the smoker.

“Eight o’clock. I’ll bring the fund.”

“These bets are going to leave me penniless, but I’ll end up so rich in the end!” Iruka allowed himself to dream.

“As if, snorted the jōnin. I can’t wait to fleece you all.

Not taking part, as he was the one in charge of keeping track of the bets, Genma merely sniggered, his teeth clenched around his senbon.

“I’ve never had such a laugh keeping track of the bets as I have since we started this. I almost want them to carry on.”

This opinion was clearly not shared, judging by the grimaces of his friends as they thought of everything they’d already staked, their spirits growing ever more heated.

“Right, I’m heading home before I collapse,” yawned Iruka. “See you tomorrow!”

They waved him off, still absorbed in their game.

Obito Uchiha was a sobbing wreck at the far end of the table, too deep in his drunkenness to pay any attention to the rest of the company, who were exchanging knowing, impatient smiles whilst Genma unrolled his account book.

As the unofficial bookmaker, the tokujō was respected by his peers for his reliability, impartiality and meticulous accounts. When it came to slightly foolish bets, such as those currently concerning them, they had naturally turned to him.

That, and the fact that he was a complete gossip – he would eventually find that out.

The shinobi were practically stamping their feet whilst their comrade checked the previous entries before, at last, drawing a long line to separate the old bets from the new.

“Very well. Let’s move on to the warm-up, gentlemen,” he declared.

He quickly went over each entry and everyone’s positions.

It was a long business and it was only getting worse, but they bore with it, periodically checking that the drunk was still lost in his own little world and that the other protagonist wasn’t lying in wait somewhere.

Not that Kakashi was sociable enough to hang around the bar on a Friday night for no reason.

And since all his friends were here…

“I can’t believe the Yondaime and his wife are taking part,” murmured Tokara.

“The sensei and their team of genin,” replied Asuma flatly. “Look at my father and the Sanin. They look more like his children than my brother and I do.”

The mood might have turned sour if they hadn’t known just how relaxed their friend was about the whole thing.

There were more important matters than absentee fathers at the moment.

“Since everyone’s fine with it, let’s move on,” the bookmarker brought them back to the task at hand. “Ebisu, the deadline you set has passed.”

This time, grumbles and other complaints arose from those who’d been too optimistic about the future lovebirds, convinced that their mutual attraction would be stronger than their rivalry, or whatever reason they kept circling each other like a dog chasing its tail.

“I vote we lock them in the same room and lose the key,” grumbled Raidō.

His neighbours turned to him, with varying degrees of scepticism and disbelief.

“Are you suggesting that solution for Mr Kamui, right here?”

The man in question whinged even louder, as if he’d realised they were talking about him.

“With Kakashi?”

The stupidity of it finally hit him and he crossed his arms, sulking.

“Just because it worked with Hayate and Yūgao doesn’t mean it’s a one-size-fits-all solution!” Izumo snorted.

The man in question opened his mouth to reply but finally decided to keep it shut. He and his girlfriend had been the subject of the bets before; he was in no position to speak up.

“Not to mention,” Genma reminded them, “that it would be tempting fate. And that’s what caused you all to lose last time.”

Those involved grimaced at the bad memory.

The current guard of the Hokage was strict and had allowed himself to be neither intimidated nor persuaded, pocketing the stakes of all those who had taken part in the confinement of the two shinobi.

A good way to teach them a lesson. And to get rich without lifting a finger at the same time.

New bets were added to the previous ones, the ryō flowing towards Genma, who faithfully transcribed them before making them vanish into the summoning scroll dedicated to the task.

Once finished, he made everything vanish; Asuma signalled for another round and Gai replaced Obito’s beer with water, urging him to drink it whilst they were together, before seeing him home, helpful as ever.

On the way, he bumped into his old friend and rival, whom he greeted with an energetic wave of the arm but without a word, out of respect for the late hour.

They didn’t exchange a word, but the jōnin wasn’t surprised that he followed in his footsteps, a silent shadow watching over his teammate, who was knocked out by his alcohol consumption.

And if Kakashi stayed in the drunkard’s flat when he left, it wasn’t as if he was going to complain, was it?

Of the group of punters, Gai didn’t consider himself any better off than the others, given his connection to the ANBU – yes, he knew it – and treated the whole thing as a bit of fun, excited at the prospect of these two vibrant souls from the springtime of youth coming together.

Of course he was itching to give him a bit of a nudge, but not so much for the thrill of winning the prize money as for the thoroughly manly joy of seeing his greatest rival and his teammate frolicking in the green pastures of love!

Just like the dance between Yūgao and Hayate, the small group of friends had realised that the two idiots were interested in each other, whilst refusing to admit it to the person concerned.

They had done what they could, talking to them, encouraging them, creating opportunities for them to hang out together or confess their feelings.

Once they were certain they were dealing with two new dimwits, Genma pulled out his account book and the bets started flying.

Were they incapable of seeing what was staring them in the face? Too bad for them; they fully intended to make a buck off their backs and, with a bit of luck, at least one of them would still be around by the time they managed to get off their arses!

Of course, they couldn’t just sit back and watch; it wasn’t uncommon for them to test the waters, asking one or the other for their opinion on their former teammate, hoping to glean some sort of insight or realisation.

Suffice to say, they were practically more frustrated than the pair of idiots when they realised there was no progress, one way or the other.

They’d promised themselves they’d treat themselves to the biggest bender in Konoha’s history with the winnings, once the deal between the two shinobi was done and dusted. They even roped Sakumo and the Yondaime in for the occasion, wouldn’t you know it!

Iruka sighed a little too loudly, catching the attention of Izumo beside him, who shot him a sidelong glance.

“Any problems?”

The mission office was practically empty, encouraging them to chat to pass the time.

“Nothing,” he muttered after a moment.

He leafed through the submitted reports to keep his hands busy, before pushing them away a little too far, but his neighbour preferred to wait for him to crack rather than comment.

“I don’t understand,” he declared out of the blue.

“You’re telling me.”

He was playing with the stamp, not particularly worried about damaging it in the process.

That old thing had seen it all before and would surely see more after him.

But he tore himself away from it, just as his colleague gestured towards Obito and Kakashi, whose closeness was due more to years of working together than to the intimacy their bank balances might suggest.

“They love each other but are convinced it’s not mutual. What are they so afraid of? They face death almost every week; don’t tell me a little confession of no consequence is scarier than an S-rank mission?”

“It must be less so than reading Obito’s scrawl, in any case,” muttered his friend, squinting at the report submitted earlier.

Not getting the joke, Iruka fixed him with one of his famous sullen stares.

“What’s the problem?” Izumo sighed. “For real this time.

Suddenly more timid, he slumped, fidgeting with his fingers, his face flushing.

“I want to find someone, be in a relationship and all that. But… I’ve got no one and no one’s interested in me.”

He eventually leaned his elbows on the table, resting his face in his palms, trying to avoid his friend’s gaze.

“And you’ve got those two, who love each other but prefer to waste precious time in denial!”

“You’re jealous.”

Izumo’s blunt and obvious observation made him jump, as much because he hadn’t expected him to speak as because he’d said that.

“N… no,” he stammered.

But he gave up when he looked him in the eye.

“Right, okay, I’m maybe a bit jealous. Just a tiny bit,” he admitted reluctantly.

Satisfied, the chūnin placed the form back in front of him, smiling.

“Perfect. We’ll find you someone, trust us.”

Mortified, the young teacher instantly regretted his confession. Knowing his friends, they’d either find him the perfect match or set him up in a humiliating situation, just for the fun of seeing him lose his composure.

“And we’ll see if you fare any better than our two idiots.”

Obito had just leaned against his friend, his chin resting on his shoulder, to spy on what he was reading – Icha-Icha, unsurprisingly – his body practically pressed against the other’s, whilst speaking to him, judging by the movement of his lips.

Kakashi showed no visible reaction, simply turning the page without trying to move away or push him off.

The same spark of jealousy flashed through both shinobi.

Gai was on his way back from a day out with his students when he spotted his rival’s back at the Ichiraku stall.

He intended to join him, as always, not yet sure whether he would boast about the vigour of his pupils, challenge him as usual, or simply enjoy a bowl of ramen in good company.

But Kakashi wasn’t alone.

Fortunately, he realised this just before greeting him loudly, freezing in surprise, before retreating to the most discreet corner, signalling to Teuchi and Ayame to pretend he wasn’t there, and pricking up his ears.

But, once again, yet another desperate time, Obito and Kakashi were hanging out together out of sheer habit, not for sentimental reasons.

How infuriating and frustrating, and yet terribly encouraging for their young souls!

Unable to disturb their dinner, he left the shop and went instead to whisper his discovery to Asuma, who sighed and shook his head in despair.

Among the ANBU ranks, too, money was changing hands.

Of course, no one was supposed to know who was hiding behind the masks, but Kakashi’s youth upon his arrival and the distinctive features of Obito’s Mangekyō – who had left their ranks a few years earlier – gave their identities away even more clearly than if they had stepped forward with their faces uncovered.

Well, except for Hatake.

And, deep down, everyone knew everyone else; it was all just for appearances’ sake.

Once again, Genma’s notebook and scroll were filling up with suggestions, ranging from the most basic to the most absurd.

Contrary to rumours, ANBU members did not spend their time on super-secret, mysterious assassination missions; otherwise, half the shinobi world would be wiped out.

They were elite soldiers, certainly, who spent their training perfecting their skills, honing their weapons to the extreme, but in truth, missions weren’t exactly queuing up at the door, especially after nearly ten years of peace.

So, they were bored.

And, when you’re bored and you’re a lethal force, it was very important to find something to keep you occupied.

Like betting on which of their colleagues would end up together.

They’d joined in too when Yūgao and Hayate were too busy gazing at their respective moons to notice each other. So, the youngest captain in their organisation paired with the Uchiha with the most powerful dōjutsu?

The potential for chaos was so tempting that many had broken open their piggy banks for the occasion.

As sharp and observant as Kakashi could be, he walked through the corridors, lost in thought, paying no heed to the whispers of his colleagues, who took care never to use proper names so as not to attract his attention.

How good it was to have a bit of fun at the captain’s expense, for his own good!

Not to be outdone, Yamato had also dug deep into his pockets, backed by Itachi and Shisui, though not for the same ‘side’.

Brothers in arms though they might be, the clan came first, and the cousins fully intended to bet on Obito taking the first step or taking matters into his own hands, whatever those matters might entail.

The former ROOT agent, for his part, was pinning all his hopes – and his savings – on his superior and role model, convinced that he would be the voice of reason in their relationship and would be the first to lose patience.

He had learnt first-hand just how angry Inu could get when people failed to grasp something simple – in his eyes. So, his feelings, which he practically wore on his sleeve…

Either Obito would end up struck by Cupid’s arrow, or by the captain’s tantō.

Both were equally possible, mind you.

Be that as it may, the three ANBU were arguing in hushed tones – Kakashi could decipher their hand signals – over which of the two men would be the winner of each bet.

There was even one on the occupied side of the bed, as well as another on who would move in with whom, whether Hatake would adopt a real dog at the same time, whether Obito would become the Fifth Hokage and his future boyfriend the ANBU commander…

In short, not many missions these past few months…

Normally, the three ANBU would have vehemently refused to take part in something so trivial, but…

Boredom wasn’t reason enough.

Yamato had (far too often) been the captain’s confidant regarding his interest in Uchiha. Making money from it was a good way to capitalise on all that voluntary time, as well as gaining access to information others didn’t have.

Itachi and Shisui, for their part, were doing it mainly out of a competitive spirit. The slight thrill of doing something improper greatly appealed to the heir, and his cousin was just a busybody who loved sticking his nose into other people’s business.

Then there was Obito, rejected for years before becoming a role model following the awakening of his Mangekyō Sharingan…

He hadn’t been hard to convince!

Then, it had to be admitted, the feelings all three harboured for their superior motivated them even more to take an interest in this matter.

They didn’t stand a chance, so they might as well make sure the captain ended up with someone decent!

And so, they gathered to discuss these matters, spying on the man in question as discreetly as possible, eager for the outcome of these columns of figures – as much to claim the winnings and find out who had been right all along on various issues, as to admire Kakashi tying the knot with his suitor.

Since they couldn’t experience it for themselves, they could do so through him.

However, it was high time they took action!

Or that they were given missions…

In the privacy of his room – even though it was in the barracks, alongside the other shinobi and kunoichi – Genma was checking the notebook where he had jotted down every bet, amused by the absurdity of some (‘Obito confesses in the rain’), grimacing at the immaturity of others (‘the first to come back limping’) and sighing over many more still…

He felt a little ashamed of working behind his friends’ backs, and even more so of making money off them, but at the same time… He’d simply spotted an opportunity and seized it. Was that so wrong?

If those two clowns had got off their backsides sooner, he wouldn’t be here, filling pages with probable or grotesque scenarios about their (future) life as a couple!

In fact, he was going to demand financial compensation, once all this was over, for his mind being tormented by the most intrusive suggestions he’d had to listen to!

The clan leaders’ meetings were grand in name only.

Of course, protocol was observed and greetings were exchanged with vigour.

But the atmosphere soon warmed up, especially since some of the current leaders were from the same generation and had therefore been classmates at the Academy and, quite often, teammates on the field.

It was not uncommon for alcohol to be served once the most important business had been dealt with, allowing everyone to relax a little. Sometimes embarrassing memories would resurface – such as the time Shikaku had kissed Hizashi, mistaking him for a girl – and new ones would be created through gossip.

Sakumo really enjoyed these kinds of gatherings, despite himself, but he had made a promise to himself that, as long as he was alive, Kakashi would never attend them. Just so he could still command (a little) respect from him.

He wasn’t particularly ashamed of his… turbulent youth; he just felt it was none of his son’s business. Especially when it came to the current leaders of powerful clans.

“How’s your son?” asked a rather tipsy Tsume. “Ever since he joined ANBU, I feel as though he’s vanished off the face of the earth.”

“He’s making his own way,” he smiled at her. “I’m proud of him and his achievements, of course, but I feel like he’s forgetting to live.”

“Not everyone can have slept with half the shinobi in the village,” she laughed loudly.

She slapped him hard on the back, but he didn’t flinch, having expected it.

The head of the Inuzuka clan had certainly taken after her late cousin, but she would never measure up to the original.

That was what had attracted him so much to his wife.

He laughed along with her at her youthful escapades.

“I wasn’t talking about that, but Kakashi certainly does as he pleases in that regard.”

The sake they were serving was good but clearly no match for the family mead.

He took a sip, lost in thought, before turning to Fugaku, who was watching them with the same dark gaze as usual.

“What do you think of an alliance between our two families?”

Immediately, the Uchiha reacted like a cat, leaping to his feet, ready to fight, his fur bristling.

Not the best reaction when facing a clan of wolves, but Sakumo was relaxed enough not to follow suit.

It would be counterproductive, and weren’t they all quite settled there? Shikaku was leaning against his back, just as he had when he was merely an exhausted genin, with Tsume yelling in his ear whilst Inoichi stood on the other side.

Normally, Chōza would be with them, but he was currently busy arguing with Asuma about who-knows-what.

“Our… families?” Fugaku repeated, clearly on the defensive. “Do you have your eye on Itachi?”

The time it took him to remember who he was talking about was the only reason he delayed grimacing in revulsion.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to defend his honour; the others took care of that for him, swiftly knocking the Konoha police chief off his pedestal.

“I may be a widower,” continued White Fang, “but I will remain forever faithful to my wife, Fugaku. Not to mention that she’s far too young for me. I was talking about Kakashi.”

“With Itachi?” he repeated.

He was less suspicious but clearly disapproving. An eight-year age gap wasn’t huge in their society, but Itachi was the clan’s heir, just as Kakashi was for his own. In practice, his son would then have to leave the family for his husband’s, and they would have to train Sasuke as a matter of urgency…

Unaware of where his thoughts were wandering, his interlocutor frowned.

“Itachi again? Fugaku, do you have a problem with your eldest son?”

“Sasuke, then?” he squeaked in alarm.

The other clan leaders exchanged worried glances, but Sakumo merely frowned even more deeply.

“Obito. I’m talking about Obito. Why would my son be interested in yours, for marriage?”

His son’s limited social circle was another of his concerns, but at least he knew where his son’s affections lay.

(His own parents had given up on the matter fairly quickly.)

“Everyone knows about those two fools,” Tsume chuckled. “Except Fugaku, it seems!”

He was teased good-naturedly by his companions, but he wasn’t listening to them; his mind was racing to weigh up the pros and cons of accepting this union.

“Obito is one of our best men,” he finally declared. “I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse. He needs a marriage where he can produce heirs.”

If the Uchiwa leader had expected a violent reaction—perhaps insults—he was thrown off balance by the shrug of his counterpart.

“If that’s your only reason for refusing, give them time and you’ll have a whole brood to bounce on your lap.”

He seemed so… confident that Fugaku took him at his word.

And it was only once he was back home that he realised he was missing a piece of information.

Or several.

Bumping into his elder brother in the corridor, he stopped him, concerned.

“Tell me, Itachi. What do you think of Kakashi and Obito?”

“That if they finally declare their feelings before next month, we’ll all be winners. Let them take their time, but not too long either.”

Another cryptic shrug.

“Perhaps I should start thinking about a wedding present, given all the money they’re going to bring me…”

And with that, he bid his father farewell and returned to his room, deep in thought.

Fugaku understood less and less what was going on.

But then again, should he encourage this union?

Team Seven were currently at their usual training ground. The chūnin exams were fast approaching, so their sensei had stepped up the training and was pushing them harder and harder, further and further.

Exhausted and taking a well-deserved break, Naruto collapsed onto the ground, panting, his eyes fixed on the treetops.

Thinking he’d spotted something, he narrowed his eyes, curious.

As the son of the Hokage, he’d grown up surrounded by ANBU; spotting them had become second nature, though there was nothing specific to go on. These shinobi were highly trained and he was still a genin, but he had a sort of sixth sense alerting him to their presence and their approximate location.

Once certain of the scant information he had, he sat up slightly, cupping his hand to his mouth to project his voice:

“Hey, Obito-sensei! Your boyfriend’s up to his old pervy tricks again!”

But by the time the jōnin turned a crimson shade, the branch was empty, still quivering from the hasty departure.