Chapter Text
Contrary to popular beliefs, Kakashi did have a support system of his own. Therapy group, self-help circle, whatever people called it, his coping mechanism was fully functioning and it kept him borderline sane. It didn’t matter that his group members were mostly dead and his therapy involved role-playing said dead members in his head, the point was that it worked. His skills were exemplary, his loyalty to Konoha resolute, his meticulously crafted personality insufferable. He was the near-perfect embodiment of Konoha’s finest asset, maybe not the personality part, and Kakashi honestly did not see what the council’s problem was.
“Hatake, for the love of Konoha. Decide on a goddamn confidant before I assign you to one like everybody else!” Tsunade barked, irritated. No amount of sake was worth dealing with Sakumo’s brat right now.
“Is that an order, Godaime-sama?” Kakashi challenged, equally irritated. He passed his annual T&I evaluation just a short two weeks ago, was declared loyal as a dog, ready to serve his village for another year if he managed to live that long. Apparently that did not placate the council enough to overlook the “Confidant: Namikaze Minato (Deceased)” stated in his personnel file.
“I will make it an order if I have to. Now get out.”
Kakashi left the Hokage’s office through the window out of spite, a confidential folder tucked under his arm, his brain silently working out how long he could procrastinate without getting maimed by his Hokage. He decided against decking Tenzō who was way too amused at his predicament, choosing to shoot a withering glare at his guard-duty kouhai instead. The confidant issue could be dealt with later.
Later for Kakashi equaled two A-ranked missions and a shattered wrist. He was summoned to the Hokage’s office after submitting his mission report and Tsunade held his broken wrist, looking positively delighted with his well-timed injury, “I can make this better or worse. Your choice.” Kakashi winced as very, very gentle pressure was applied on his wrist, triggering the unpleasant memory of delicate bones grating against one another. He flipped the folder open and started to skim through the pages.
“Three weeks, Hatake. I gave you three weeks and you told me your dogs ate the copy.” Despite her threats, healing chakra flowed from Tsunade’s palm and his bones started to mend, instantly soothing the pain. “Maa, puppies. You know how they are.”
“I hope they eat your books.”
Kakashi looked appalled at that, he clutched his chest with his good hand only to have Tsunade slapped a stack of paper against the side of his head. “Focus, brat. You’re not leaving my office today without giving me a name.”
Kakashi relented. He chose his battles wisely and there was no way out of this one. Confidant, someone trained to assess and report another shinobi’s psychological condition while adhering to the highest level of confidentiality, a person whom a shinobi could always trust their deepest, darkest secrets with. By protocol, every active shinobi hitting certain indices like high kill rate or high A/S-rank mission ratio must have at least one confidant registered in their personnel file, giving the rest of Konoha a peace of mind knowing that the potentially volatile ones were under constant surveillance by trained professionals.
In all honesty, Kakashi thought Minato-sensei was doing a fine job as his confidant. They chatted amiably when Kakashi visited the memorial stone, he wished Kakashi a safe journey when Kakashi passed by the Hokage Monument before heading out for a mission, he mediated between Kakashi and Obito whenever they got into an especially ugly argument. Everything happened in Kakashi’s head of course but it was sufficient. Minato-sensei alone was sufficient and he could not understand why the council was so hung up on the fact that his confidant was not alive.
Kakashi gave up when he was halfway through. He flipped to the index, looked for “Registered Confidant List (Confidential)” and skipped directly to that section. He keyed his chakra signature onto the blank page and was tempted to observe with Sharingan as names slowly started to appear on the piece of paper. Some names he recognised while some others came as a surprise. Kakashi perked up a little when he locked onto Gai’s name but was disgruntled when he saw the asterisk mark which signalled Gai’s status as a part-timer, meaning another backup would be required. He continued down the list until he came across another familiar name, Umino Iruka.
Thing was, Kakashi’s baggage was so heavy that his spine sometimes felt like breaking on a bad day. He was not especially fond of forging close connections lest he had to bare his heart and having Minato-sensei as his confidant was the one true solution thanks to the lack of actual human interaction. He would identify sources of negativity like shame, regret, guilt - god so much guilt - and he would talk it out with Minato-sensei in his head. If Kakashi was lucky, he might be able to digest the negativity and had one less thing weighing him down. Most of the time he swiped the whole thing under a rug and continued with his life. Compartmentalize, detach, survive. He was good at this, had been good at this since he was fourteen.
“Is Iruka-sensei available?” Kakashi asked, head tilted to the side, hair flopping in the same direction. Tsunade simply nodded her assent, “I’ll speak with him. Shizune will handle your paperwork and I need you for another solo A-rank. You depart tomorrow.”
“At your service, Godaime-sama.” Catching the mission scroll mid-air, Kakashi’s visible eye crinkled before he flickered out of Hokage’s office, leaving in a rush of wind that toppled over stacks of paperwork on the desk. Tsunade’s frustrated yell could be heard halfway across Konoha, decking Tenzō would have to wait another day.
Iruka was registered as a full time confidant the same time he made chūnin. He was one of the youngest to pass the exam, took the oath of conditional silence and accepted the seal that came with it, pledging his service to Konoha until he was no longer deemed fit or until his demise, whichever came first. In Sandaime’s words, Iruka was compassionate, open-minded, comfortable with emotions and his heart was at the right place — always seeing the best in people, always wanting to help. Iruka was not sure if he possessed all of those qualities, but he did what he could to live up to what Sandaime saw in him.
Being a confidant was, for the lack of better words, heavy. He shouldered the burden of other shinobi, listened to their guilt and suffering, his hands equally bloody despite his near zero kill rate as of late. He did not, could not tell his charge that things would be alright because it never would be. Lives lost and taken tend to put an irrevocable dent in a person. He was however exceptionally skilled and adamant at getting his charge to acknowledge that what was done was done and at the end of the day, acceptance meant healing could start.
Iruka had always handled only one charge at a time, his work at the academy and mission desk leaving him no capacity for more. His current charge was a retiring jounin who did his fair share of missions during his prime but had to cut-short his career due to a knee injury that never healed properly. He was no longer hitting the required indices and would likely be exempted from the requirement of having a confidant soon.
Iruka was summoned to the Hokage’s office late at night by an Anbu in a cat mask who was polite enough to use the door. He held onto Cat’s elbow wordlessly and they shared a body flicker jutsu to the Hokage Tower.
“Fifty four direct kills, thirty seven assists, A/S-rank ratio higher than twenty percent, almost thirty.” Iruka was seated across Tsunade when she gave him the perfunctory walkthrough of his upcoming charge’s statistics of the past twelve months, her slender fingers drumming lightly on the desk. Those were impressive numbers, not necessarily a good thing in Iruka’s opinion and he bowed his head slightly, “You worked them too hard, Godaime-sama.”
“Save your lecture, sensei. He’s one of the best I have,” Tsunade waved a hand dismissively, the other sliding a folder across the desk. “I’ve heard about your disagreement with Kakashi during chūnin exam but I expect you to accept this.”
“Of course, Godaime-sama. We’ve made amends but I would’ve accepted it either way.”
“Good. Kitahara will be relieved from you this week. Initiate the sessions once Kakashi returns. Knowing that brat he’ll probably do everything to avoid it.” Iruka snorted as he skimmed through Kakashi’s file, automatically memorising the more important information by heart, “I will do my best.”
“I trust that you will. The brat picked you after all.”
“...I thought confidant’s assignment was under Hokage's discretion?”
“It is. I allowed Kakashi to select his own. He’s being a pain in the ass and the council isn’t making this any easier. Well, that’s the perk he gets for having those numbers,” Leaning against the backrest of her chair, Tsunade gestured good-naturedly towards the door, “If you’re done asking questions sensei, I believe we all have work to do.”
Iruka left the Hokage’s office with a deep bow, politely declined Cat’s offer to send him home. He walked, the streets quiet given how late it was and he recalled what he read earlier in Kakashi’s file. Graduated from the academy at five, chūnin at six, jōnin at twelve. A prodigy and genius through and through, albeit emotionally constipated and socially handicapped if Iruka’s judgement was true.
Their existing relationship could be best described as passing acquaintances, brought together by their mutual students but not close enough for any personal interactions apart from standard greetings. They exchanged information about Team Seven over impromptu lunches, the chūnin exam debacle was behind them as they could not be bothered with grudges and Iruka made it so easy after a bowl of free, steaming ramen. Kakashi was also no stranger to Iruka’s infamous temper, being one of those jōnins whose mission reports looked like they were written by a bleeding, shaking nin-dog cowering under a tree during a thunderstorm.
Now that Iruka thought it over, he realised that dealing with Kakashi had been rather enjoyable. Insufferable yes, but always entertaining. He might even enjoy the yelling bit if he was being honest. Some of Kakashi’s mission reports could pass as art if he had enough to drink. Next week, Iruka thought as he looked up into the night sky and took a slow walk home.