Ralph Waldo Emerson
Kakashi is a covert ops spy protecting Iruka, but they don't speak the same language
“Home and dry, largely none the worse for wear.” According to the translator, that was what Iruka told his student, a pretty, pale teen whose blank demeanor was betrayed by how rapidly he’d approached his teacher and how intently he’d examined the older man for visible damage. Iruka spent another few minutes speaking to his student before bowing and walking over to Kakashi.
“I owe you a great deal.” The translator said after Iruka finished speaking. Kakashi shrugged as best he could without pulling his stiches. Iruka’s eyes narrowed and he spoke again, voice sharper this time. “How may I begin to repay you?” the translator said, his calm voice in direct contrast to the teacher's impassioned one. Kakashi shrugged again and took a step back. Alone, facing danger together he and Iruka had found some level of rapport. Here, in the palace and reminded of their roles as soldier and tutor to royalty, language was only the most obvious barrier. A quick wave and Kakashi turned to go… Iruka grabbed his hand and said something to the translator who nodded and left.
“Kakashi…” Even after four days together, Iruka murdered his name and it was the best thing Kakashi had ever heard. “Stay.”
As he found himself nodding, Kakashi contemplated how this could work. Maybe they could draw pictures?
- Current Mood: accomplished