DISCLAIMER: I do not own or claim to own any of Masashi Kishimoto's characters or settings. I don't make a profit writing this, and no harm was intended.

A/N: This was written for the Kakairu fest Winter Exchange on LJ. The prompt used was:
First love. Kakashi and Iruka were each other's first love when they were still young. It didn't work out (as many first relationship don't). Now, as adults, they are rebuilding a friendship, but there is still a lot of tension between them. Maybe this time they can make it work.

Thank you so much to megyal and end1essly, who were my ROCKS during this whole thing: editing, betaing, cheering, and just being all around badass. I adore you both.

A quick reminder: any fics that I post here will be heavily edited. If you want the mano y mano rutting, you'll have to find me on LJ or AO3, where I'm listed under the same name. Thank you so much for reading!

SIX

The first time Iruka met the scrawny ninja with the explosion of white hair, he was six, nursing a nasty cut on his knee with snot and tears. It was during the dog days of summer, when the heat of the sun kissed the salty sweat of an arm, only to dissipate with a vaporous sigh. The trees appeared to droop beneath the weight of the air, their branches reaching finger-like for errant travelers. Or, in Iruka's case, kneecaps.

He'd been inspecting the edges of his cut when he heard the snap of a twig. Quickly, he glanced up from the stump on which he perched to meet a pair of dark eyes, peering out from the foliage of a nearby shrub.

"You suck at hiding," he'd announced, swiping at his nose with the back of his hand.

"Oh yeah?" countered the bush, its voice high and reedy. It seemed to quiver angrily. "Well, you're a big fat baby!"

"Why don't you come out here and say that to my face?" Iruka had bellowed, his cheeks heating furiously. He started to stand to his feet, but the movement made the tight, itchy cut throb in accusation, which started a wave of fresh tears.

For a long time, he heard nothing but the sound of his own sniffles, and was beginning to feel hopeful that maybe whoever had been concealed by the shrubbery had lost interest and wandered away, when he felt the soft pressure of fingertips on his leg.

"What happened?"

Through watery eyes, Iruka glanced up, blinking rapidly until he could see clearly. The boy who stood in front of him, dark eyes shining with concern, wasn't anyone Iruka had ever seen. Pallid skin stretched over a body still shedding its infantry, and his face was so lovely that it was almost girlish. Iruka stared at his lips, which were a perfect mimicry of the hina dolls Iruka's aunt set out early each spring to bring his cousins luck.

"I fell," he answered, using the palms of his hands to scrub at his cheeks.

The boy knelt down, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he examined Iruka's injury, his fingertips barely brushing over the angry red mark. The black gloves he wore looked to be about two sizes too big - as though he'd borrowed them from someone much larger than himself. Still, something about the way those fingers danced over Iruka's skin – spectral white over sun-kissed brown – made his cheeks feel warm.

"That's deep," the boy said, solemn. His hair flounced with the bob of his head as he nodded to emphasize his diagnosis.

"What's your name?" Iruka asked, scrape forgotten. It was very rare that Iruka not recognize someone in his village, and certainly Iruka had never met anyone so young who travelled without the supervision of his parents.

The boy blinked owlishly at him. He suddenly became very interested in his own sandal, his gaze locked on the frayed ends. "I'm not supposed to tell."

"Because you're a ninja," Iruka stated, reaching up to tap the silver plate of the hitae-ate that held the boy's hair together like a bale of hay. With his fingertips, he traced Konoha's insignia scrawled over the metal before dropping his arm back to his side.

The pale boy nodded, offering nothing more.

"Well, do you have, like, a code name or something?"

"I do, but..." the boy's attention darted everywhere - the trees, the sky, Iruka's ear - before finally settling on the ground. "I'm on a mission, so I'm not sure I should tell you."

They both stood in silence, Iruka shifting nervously, bouncing his leg while the other boy regarded him with dark, unreadable eyes. Iruka's heart beat faster and his head felt funny, as if he were being held underwater. Then, it came to him.

"I know!" Iruka said, unable to keep from grinning at his great idea. "I'll call you Yuki! Then you won't have to tell me your name at all!"

The boy smiled, a slow, uncertain thing that had Iruka's stomach in inexplicable knots. "Okay, but I get to call you something, too."

"Like what?"

The boy - Yuki - thought for a moment, his brow furrowed. Then, he said, "You can be my Himitsu."

EIGHT

"Come inside!"

It was the third time his mother had called for him to come home, and though as a general rule Iruka knew better than to test her patience, he was simply too distracted to heed the undercurrent warning in her voice. In the distance, the sun sagged on the horizon, steadily slumping toward nightfall, casting the forest into silhouette.

"And then we were diving down after them," Yuki was saying, his hands arcing through the air as if they were herons in flight. His mouth seemed to be moving faster than his words would come; his dark eyes sparkled with excitement. "Himitsu, it was so cool! My sensei took his kunai and pinned one of them to a tree! And then! Then! We were running through the forest when- "

"I said, 'come inside!'"

Both boys froze, staring at each other for a few seconds before bursting into giggles. Iruka had to grab the trunk of the tree they sat in to keep from falling. It scratched against his palms, the bark scraping like teeth against his cheek. Above him, Yuki was hanging upside down, his knees hooked over a limb while the tips of his hair tickled the crown of Iruka's head.

"I have to go."

"I know," Yuki agreed, stifling a snort of laughter with the back of his hand. With more grace than was fair for someone his age, he clambered down to perch beside Iruka, reaching out to grab Iruka's knee, their sides touching.

"I have something for you," Iruka said quickly, his mouth feeling suddenly very dry. Dropping his head to hide the blush searing his cheeks, Iruka fished in his pocket until he found what he was looking for. He couldn't look Yuki in the eye as he shoved out his gift with both hands, nervousness fluttering like hummingbird wings in his stomach when Yuki took it from him.

"Himitsu, what…"

"I made it," Iruka cut in, desperate to buy a few seconds before Yuki decided he hated it. What kind of boy made a necklacefor his friend, anyway? Iruka almost hoped he would fall from the tree, the grass below swallowing him up to spare him any further embarrassment.

He glanced up to see Yuki inspecting the little burlap sack tied to a small length of twine, the kanji for "snow" etched onto the fabric by a shaky hand. Yuki's eyes widened when he peeked into the tiny bag, and Iruka battled the urge to snatch back the gift, to pretend it was all a joke.

"Cherry blossoms?"

"They fell," Iruka blurted from behind his hands, which he'd brought up to cover his mortification. Really, what hadhe been thinking? Still, he couldn't keep quiet, the next words spilling from his mouth in a rush. "They fell and it looked like snow and I thought of you."

For a long moment there was only silence, which stretched out for so long that Iruka had to lower his hands. Yuki was just gazing at him, a goofy little smile dancing over his lips.

"You thought of me?" he asked, and Iruka nodded, sure that his cheeks were going to melt right off of his face. Yuki reached back to tie the string around his neck before tucking the little sack of petals beneath his shirt. "Thank you."

"I really have to go," Iruka murmured, cringing at the sound of his mother screaming from somewhere below them. He could picture her face, red with anger, and the vein that throbbed in her forehead. "She's going to kill me."

"Okay," Yuki said, his voice barely above a whisper. And then, he reached for Iruka, wrapping his arms around him.

It was tentative at first, as though he were trying out something completely foreign to him, but soon Iruka was hugging him back, his fingers digging into the other boy's back as though they could slip beneath the folds of fabric and skin, ever hungry for more of something he couldn't understand. His heart felt funny against Yuki's, running so fast that it tripped over itself clumsily before taking off again.

It was only when his mother called again, this time with a threat to Iruka's well-being should he refuse to come home right then that Yuki released him, his dark eyes wide.

"I'll see you soon," said Iruka, leaping to the branch below him. He scrambled the rest of the way down the trunk, feet slipping and arms flailing occasionally. His feet barely touched the ground before he bounded away, racing along the path to his house.

Not even the certainty of his mother's wrath could wipe the smile off of his face.

TEN

"Why do you wear that?" Iruka asked, jutting his chin in the direction of Yuki's face, which was covered to his eyes by a black mask.

He hadn't asked immediately, his heart drumming in his chest like it wanted to break free and run away every time Yuki had touched him.

Yuki was stretched out in the grass catnapping while Iruka sat cross legged, braiding two stems of wildflowers. He never understood how Yuki could stay so still for hours; if Iruka wasn't running or jumping or otherwise keeping his extremities preoccupied, he felt like he'd explode.

And now, it seemed as though Yuki had dozed off again. Iruka nudged Yuki's sandaled foot with his big toe. "Yuki?"

Yuki merely shrugged, lazily stretching out his hand instead of answering. Giggling, Iruka dropped his decimated bouquet, reaching out to place his bare palm against Yuki's gloved one. For a moment, Yuki's eyes went wide, so rounded that the thinnest strips of white could be seen around the coal lumps that were his irises. Iruka's breath caught in his throat, heat spreading through his chest and belly like wildfire.

Yuki jerked his hand away, clutching the hand Iruka had touched to his chest.

"Sorry." Iruka felt his skin heat, and he scratched at his cheek nervously.

"Don't be sorry," said Yuki, his gaze hovering over the scar that dissected Iruka's nose. His eyelids were drooping again, and he pillowed his head in the cradle of his joined hands. "Where'd you get that scar?"

Iruka tittered, deciding to study the hemline of his pants. He didn't want to tell Yuki the whole story; it was just too damn embarrassing. "Um. Shuriken."

"Ah."

"It's not a cool battle scar or anything, just so you know."

"Oh?"

"Nah," Iruka plucked a rock from the ground, rolling it between his fingers. "This stupid kid in my class, Mizuki, told me I wouldn't know what to do with a shuriken if it flung itself from my hand. I wanted to prove him wrong, so I stole some of my dad's to take to school the next day, but when I went to throw them, I cut myself in the face."

Iruka knew from the way Yuki sat up, his eyebrows scrambling to his hairline, that his mouth would be slack in horror. Something about that made him feel smug.

Yuki scooted into Iruka until they were side by side, his gaze intent on Iruka's face. He brought his hands to rest on Iruka's cheeks. "Are you okay?"

"No, Yuki," Iruka snorted, though his insides felt like jelly. His heart beat a wild tap dance in his chest. "I'm dead."

Yuki dropped his hands, giggling as he bumped his hip against Iruka's. They lapsed into silence, Yuki ripping up a few blades of grass to hand to Iruka. After a moment, he sighed, peeking at Iruka from beneath his dark lashes.

"My dad gets on my nerves," he said. Iruka's head popped up, alert; something about the way Yuki spoke unsettled him. It was flat and lifeless; limp. "I look like him. That's what everyone says anyway. But I don't want to look like a coward!"

Iruka watched Yuki - whose chest heaved while his breath came fast – and after a moment, he reached over to take Yuki's hand, weaving his fingers through rigid, trembling ones. He was pretty sure that Yuki didn't even realize he was crying, his lashes spiking together and his mask glued to his tear-stained cheeks.

"You're the bravest boy I know," said Iruka.

There was nothing but the sound of their breathing for a moment, interrupted occasionally by the thrumming of cicadas as they stirred from their slumber. And then, so slowly that Iruka feared at first that he was imagining it, Yuki tightened his fingers around Iruka's.

TWELVE

Iruka glanced up from his spot on the soft grass, not entirely sure why he'd even come back to this spot. It had been over a year since Yuki's last appearance, and though they'd never really spoken it aloud, Iruka felt sure that their summertime meetings were supposed to be an annual thing. Still, last summer had slipped into fall, winter, spring, and Yuki had not shown.

Sighing, Iruka surveyed the clearing. He wondered if maybe he should return home; the invading dusk was a pretty good indicator that he was not going to be seeing Yuki tonight.

He clambered to his feet, turning to leave, when the snap of a twig echoed through the depths of the forest. Smiling to himself, he spun around. "Ninja are to be silent as the serpent; stealthy as the cat."

Yuki slipped from where he'd been hidden among the trees, his hands tucked deep into the recesses of his pockets. "Is that what they're teaching nowadays?"

"Something like that," Iruka said, grinning so hard he feared his cheeks would burst. Then, he ran, legs eating up the distance between them. He stopped short in front of Yuki, desperately wanting to touch the other boy, but completely unable to bring himself to. "I missed you."

There was something different about Yuki, something that flitted about, trying to find a place in Iruka's mind but couldn't quite land.

"I missed you, too."

The words made Iruka feel shy, and his cheeks burned. He looked up into Yuki's face, and the pieces clicked. "Why is your eye covered?" Iruka suddenly felt sick with worry. "Did you get hurt?"

"Yes," answered Yuki, his gaze drawn to the ground. "But I'm better now. I'll be fine."

There was something about Yuki's tone that made Iruka frown. "Let me see it."

"Himitsu, I-"

"I want to see." Iruka put his hands on his hips, glaring at Yuki until his pale fingers reached uncertainly for his hitae-ate, which he'd tugged down over his left eye.

Carefully, Yuki pulled at it, wincing when Iruka was unable to hold back a gasp. A long, thin scar dissected Yuki's eye; it was so long that it dipped beneath his mask, and stretched up beneath the fringe of his hair.

But that wasn't what shocked Iruka.

Where once a dark eye had been, there was now a new eye, the the blood red iris flecked with tomoe that spun and whirled hypnotically.

"W-what happened to you?" Iruka asked, his voice full of fear.

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does!"

"Himitsu," Yuki whispered fervently. He leaned forward, pulling down his mask so that Iruka could see his face. "There's something I've been thinking about doing."

"Yuki, what happened to you?"

"Just listen," Yuki said, his face so close that Iruka could see tiny scratches over his face, the smudges of dirt beneath his nose. "I just...I lost something, and I just wanted you...I wanted to tell you how I feel."

"Um, okay?"

Yuki nodded, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth set in a thin, determined line. Iruka's heart jumped into his throat when Yuki cupped his cheek, tilting his head so that he could chastely press his lips against Iruka's.

"Oh," Iruka said faintly when Yuki pulled away, his pulse a crashing cymbal in his ears.

"Now you know."

THIRTEEN

Yuki was kissing him again.

His lips were soft at times, and other times persistent, his tongue sliding past Iruka's lips to lick along the roof of his mouth as if Iruka were a sweet that he could taste. It made Iruka's head spin, his body tighten up as if it were a twig - stiff and yet easily broken.

Because that's what it felt like Yuki was doing: breaking him. Like maybe he was cracking something inside of Iruka to fill with himself, and Iruka couldn't care less if it meant that he could kiss Yuki for just a while longer.

The bed creaked beneath their bodies as Iruka dragged his fingertips down Yuki's sides, squeezing at hips he was quickly becoming obsessed with. There wasn't a spot on Yuki's body that he hadn't wanted to touch. It was a thought that kept him up at night, breathless with want and something he couldn't quite name that caused his blood to boil, his skin tingling in the darkness.

"Himitsu," Yuki rasped when he finally pulled away, a blush blooming on his cheeks. The lamplight on the nightstand licked over Yuki's face, glinting off his kiss-bruised lips. "I want to…I want…"

But what he wanted he couldn't say, because Iruka was too busy grabbing handfuls of Yuki's shirt, sliding his fingers beneath the fabric. He shuddered when Yuki gasped, his eyes hooded and dark. Under his hands Yuki's skin was like velvet, soft and warm.

Yuki leaned down, his tongue tracing a path from Iruka's neck to his ear, where he bit down gently. A sound Iruka had never heard himself make before rumbled through his lips, and his stomach clenched violently in response.

"Gods," Yuki breathed, his breath hot against the side of Iruka's face. "You make me feel crazy."

Iruka leaned up to bite Yuki's bottom lip, tugging with his teeth until the other boy groaned softly. The sound made him restless, itchy everywhere and he trembled, but he wasn't afraid.

A rap at the door had them both freeze, eyes wide and hearts lurching. Frantic, Iruka shoved Yuki off of him.

"Just a minute!" he called in the direction of his door, batting away Yuki's hands as they reached for him again. Another knock. "Hang on!"

Iruka pushed at Yuki, steering him toward the window and dodging his kisses as they went.

"Go," he whispered, laughing when Yuki pecked his lips. "You have to go."

He turned in time to see the door open, his mother stepping through. His breath seemed to lodge itself in his lungs as she looked past him to the window.

"Iruka, what are you doing?"

"Um," he said, turning back to his windowsill, the empty space where Yuki had been both elating and disappointing at once.

With a sigh, his mother crossed the room, bumping Iruka's hip playfully as she tugged shut the window. "Bedtime, Iruka-chan."

Iruka grinned as he climbed into bed, his mother hauling the covers over him. "Goodnight, Mama."

"Goodnight."

He waited until she left, listening for her steps to fade as she padded down the hallway before leaping out of bed, bounding to the window.

"Yuki!" he called once he'd won the battle with the window. He popped his head out and into the warm night air. "Yuki!"

"Yes?" came a voice from behind him, quavering with laughter. Iruka spun around to see Yuki sprawled out on his bed, his hands crossed behind his head, his long legs crossed at the ankles.

"Asshole!" Iruka said with a grin. He hurried back to the bed, pouncing onto Yuki, who laughed breathlessly. Wriggling against the long frame beside him, Iruka pulled the covers over them both, unable to hold back his grin when Yuki's arms wrapped around him. "Stay 'til I fall asleep?"

"Only if you promise not to drool on me."

THIRTEEN

The day Iruka's world came to a grinding halt, he woke to the smell of smoke.

It was thick in his nostrils, coating his throat and voice with a layer of grit that he couldn't expunge, even with the wettest cough. Confused, he glanced around him, his room feeling strangely void.

Yuki.

He'd fallen asleep to the soft, rhythmic sound of Yuki's heartbeat, their fingers entwined on the pillow beneath Iruka's cheek. But now Yuki was gone, his side of the bed cold, as if it had been empty for some time.

A scream from outside made him jolt upward. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Iruka stood to his feet. The house was quiet, tatami mats cold as he crept into the hallway on his tiptoes.

"Mama?"

A sudden rumble of the ground knocked him to the floor, the house seeming to shudder around him. Voices - wailing, shrieks and screams - poured in through the windows, and a wave of heat washed over him. Something was wrong.

"Mama!" he called, tiny tendrils of panic worming their way into his chest.Where was she?

Scrambling to stand again, Iruka hurried through the kitchen, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw the front door was ajar. Through the sliver of the frame, he could see into the night, and his body went rigid with terror. Flames licked through the village, plumes of smoke engulfing trees and huts.

Terror wrapped itself around Iruka's legs like a weighted stone, making every step he took feel difficult. The closer he came to the door, the harder it was to breathe.

"Iruka!"

The sound of his mother's voice made him start, tears of relief pricking his eyes when he turned to find her safe. "Mama, where were you?"

"Iruka-chan," she said, stretching out her arms to catch Iruka as he ran to her. "Listen to me. The village is under attack."

"Okay." Iruka shrugged out of the circle of his mother's arms, wondering which weapons would work best in combat and where he'd put his uniform. He was a bit nervous; he'd never been a part of defending the village, but this was what he was raised for - his duty.

His mother grabbed his arms, her fingers like shackles around him. When he looked back, he felt as if he'd been punched. "Mama, you're hurt!"

Blood trickled in lines from the corners of her mouth, and a frighteningly large circle of red stained the front of her shirt.

"I'm fine, Iruka."

"You're not fine! Mama, I'll take care of you. Let me gather my things and -"

"Iruka, you are not fighting," she said firmly, shaking her head to deflect her son's arguments. "The battle is with the kyuubi, and we've been called into the village proper. You must stay here."

"No! I'm going to protect you, Mama, I know how!"

"Iruka." His dad stepped into their house from the open front door. He looked ragged; the side of his face shined slickly, blood trickling from a cut that Iruka couldn't see. He was panting, and clutching his side as he leaned heavily on the doorframe. "You will stay here."

"No! I won't do it! I can take care of her!"

His words were cut short with a slash of his father's hand through the air; a signal to be silent. "It is the job of the parents to protect their child," his father said, "not the other way around. I will watch over her."

"But-"

"Namiko-san is here to sit with you, Iruka." His father moved to the side as best he could, making way for a stooped old woman to pass. Her feet dragged across the floor of their house, her movements jerky as she ambled toward Iruka.

"That won't be necessary," Iruka said, determined. He hoped that the woman would hear the warning beneath his words; he would hate to have to harm her if she tried to hold him back. "I'm going with you, and I'll do whatever it takes to defend my family."

Faster than Iruka could have ever fathomed, the old woman's gnarled fingers flashed through seals. She lifted her hands to her face to blow over her knobbed knuckles, and when the soft wind that came from her lips hit Iruka, he fell to the ground.

"Sleep, little one," he heard from behind him, a tear slipping from the corner of his eye as he surrendered to the powerful jutsu.

When the smoke cleared from his slumbering mind, Iruka felt that he was not alone.

"I'm sorry, Iruka-chan," said Namiko from where she sat across from him. Her eyes shone in the morning light, full of sadness. "I'm so, so sorry."

He didn't even realize he was screaming until he'd clamped his hands over his own mouth, the sound leaking between his fingertips until he finally ran out of air, the world around him fading to black.