#copycopy

Gai blinks beadily at his rival, confused and not completely understanding what the other man is mumbling about. The words swim around his head and he struggles to pick out anything over the hum in his own ears. Something about the way he looks?

Gai turns his gaze way from where he had been staring at Kakashi’s face to his own chest. His bare chest. Huh? When did that happen? He presses his hands over his pectorals and feels a warm, firm bounce under his fingertips when he presses. Okay. So he did loose his suit somewhere. This must be what his rival is talking about. Okay. He just needs to get up and look for it. Yes. Simple.

He tries to rise on wobbly feet but his vision swims and his world tilts sideways. He lands on something warm and snuggles up against it feeling suddenly cold. What was he doing again? Looking for something? Someone maybe? Maybe he could stay here instead? Where is he again? He looks up and sees a tufft of silver white.

He feels laughter bubble up in his throat and lets it spill over his lips and he raises a hand up to pat his rival’s alchohl flushed cheek.

@copycopy​ asked:  "tenzo... i liked it when your hair was longer. [mumbles] s'pretty."

They didn’t drink together often, which, in hindsight, was probably a shame. Yamato hadn’t even come out that evening with the intention of drinking anything, but crossing paths with a senpai who had already clearly knocked back a few and demanded he join him... well, some things simply couldn’t be passed up.

He was careful to watch his own intake, however, knowing that he could get quite chatty after a couple of drinks. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself in front of the one person whose opinion he valued the highest. 

“Yamato.” He reminded his senpai - pointlessly, of course, and he really didn’t mind anyway. The mumbled confession that followed had heat rising into his face in an instant and he quickly ducked his head, running one hand through the hair in question. Cutting it short had been a decision made after one too many teases about its length and a realisation that short would be much more practical for a working shinobi.

But he did miss it, sometimes.

Initially, Ino had wondered why the Hatake had made what she was assumed was a detour into her shop only to be met with Kakashi extending his hand towards her to reveal a neatly wrapped item that he prompted her to take. 

“Happy birthday, Ino.”

‘....It’s for my birthday?’ She hadn’t expected that. Unwrapping the gift, Ino was met with a beautiful yet simple violet hairpin with small floral details to it roughly the same size as the normal pin she wore to pin back the hair on the left side of her face. It would be a lie if she said she expected anything from Kakashi, it wasn’t as if he was her sensei himself and it would be presumptuous to expect any other sensei to acknowledge much less gift her with something, so this certainly took her by surprise--- in a good way, of course. 

   Ino was very touched by the thoughtfulness of the other and a bright smile formed on her face as she looked up from the gift. 

“This is so pretty, Kakashi-sensei! I really like it! I wasn’t expecting anything from you--- not because of any strange reasons or anything just that you’re Sakura’s sensei and not mine and ----” She was rambling, “---Anyways, it’s such a kind gift. I’ll be sure to wear it--- Actually, I can try it on now.” 

   The village had long grown stifling & increasingly, she felt the walls themselves, the eyes of watchers.  Perhaps, it was just the fear of the unknown. What she remembers of childhood is drifting, never remaining in one place for long. Later, in windowless twisting corridors, at least the horrors were familiar. (she should go back. Could? Death presses in on both sides, in the dark or within the villages walls)   she can recall the first time she strode through the gates, when she felt she had a sense of herself. Well, at least a sense of what part she played, an assurance in a way. No time for introspection, just another duty to fulfill. Now, she’s had to confront herself—the sense of self that wasn’t really ever there. 

  Still, the village smothers her & she enjoys the escape & a return to form. a return, at least to having her focus on a mission, on a goal-(though she still waits & waits for one of them to start off the usual arguments. she insults, jirobo chastises, she tells him to shut up. repeat. ) 

  There’s a heavy cloak that rests by her,  she’s refused to throw it on, thinking of what it would reflect. & what she does, & she’s come to realize that it’s mostly out of single need to not been seen as weak. The wind chills her& she refuses to turn from it. Watching as the flames flicker, it’s always been a competition of who can endure the most. (you don’t need to anymore. But I must.)

“ that what you do? Make a choice? ”  she asks. does he assume there’s always the luxury of choice? she wants to believe she has it now.  That there might be-- she can’t hold on to defensive anger forever, but it’s all she’s had. It’s warming at least. It could also be all consuming, maybe she wants to find away to not cling as tightly anymore.

“Kakashi-sensei?” 

It was quiet in the twilight hours after a long day of training and Naruto sprawled across the grass, chest heaving from the exertion of repeatedly producing hundreds of shadow clones to benefit his chakra nature training. He felt like things were going well, the frustrations only lingering because of how little time they had to achieve what was necessary.