[fic] bloodhound

[kurgaya]

Title: bloodhound
Fandom: Naruto
Rating: Teen+
Pairings/Characters: Kakashi; Yamato; Kakashi's Ninken
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: Contamination type OCD
Notes: Hurt/comfort; character study; drabble
Summary: Kakashi wonders what sort of post-mission routine Tenzō has and if it's anything like this. He hopes not. Tenzō’s a decent guy and he’s got enough on his plate as it is. Kakashi wouldn’t wish these crazy routines on anyone.

On AO3

Assassinations are messy even when the kill is clean.

 

A red dusk looms over Konoha as they return - Kakashi and Tenzō, Hound and Tanuki - and the bone-white of their ANBU masks glint like a blade in the light. Kakashi could have handled the mission alone, but if anyone’s to watch his back, then he’d chose Tenzō over few else. Neither are harmed, although Tenzō lost his standard-issue cloak in the escape. The rest of Team Ro would laugh about such a ridiculous mistake were they here, and Tenzō would be blushing for days, but that is neither here nor now. Their return to Konoha is silent, absent of glee. Tenzō is quiet because Kakashi is quiet, and Kakashi is quiet because he’s Hound.

 

A bloodhound, despite the pointed ears of his mask. Droopy ears were hard to paint. Team Ro use the nickname affectionately, poking fun at Kakashi’s enhanced sense of smell. Not everyone else is so kind. He’s been in this service for longer than most would dare and that warrants a certain less-favourable reputation. The line between a good killer and too good is fine, and Kakashi’s walked it years. He’s killed more people than he can count; he’s carried home the blood of hundreds on his hands, his clothes, and his mask. He deserves the reputation of a killer - he is a killer, he is a hound.

 

The Hokage doesn’t expect them; he cannot expect them, not ever. Kakashi flickers into the office without a sound, dropping down to one knee as Tenzō appears behind him, autumn leaves fluttering in through the window. Sarutobi hums around a pipe and gestures Kakashi forward, his eyes wrinkling, almost pleased. The wide, red sleeves of his kimono drape over the desk. Kakashi pulls a scroll from a pouch with only the slightest touch: proof of kill, it contains more than mere words, but Sarutobi regards it with the same dispassionate interest as most. He takes it without fanfare and unpeels the blood-stuck end, unrolling it just a short way as Kakashi monotones through a report. Sarutobi’s hands are old and wrinkled, and just a little smudged from handling paperwork all day. The spots of ink could be blood in the darkening day. He runs a thumb over the end of the scroll as he listens, and the corner curls up like fingers grasping in death. The scroll travelled back to Konoha in a pouch full of kunai and blood. Kakashi is meticulous about cleaning his weapons after kills, but once they’re dirty, they’re always dirty. He would throw each and every one away if he could - and he does, given the chance. But a mission is no place to be weaponless and there’s only so many he can carry. He stuffed the pouch with what he had and the scroll, too. Sarutobi doesn’t seem to notice the mess. Kakashi makes a mental note to add the weapons pouch to the laundry tonight.

 

“Thank you both for your efforts,” Sarutobi says after a long, silent while. Kakashi keeps his eyes trained on the desk, willing himself not to stare at Sarutobi’s hands. Beside him, Tenzō doesn’t quite startle, but the way he lifts his head could suggest as such, the red rings of his ANBU mask almost as large as his bloodshot eyes. “Get some rest. You’re dismissed.”

 

Kakashi glances to Tenzō before they flicker away. Good work, says the incline of his head, and though it isn’t possible, the tanuki mask seems to smile.

 

Kakashi body-flickers to the door of his apartment, whereas most would return to the ANBU headquarters to change. It’s where Tenzō will have gone; he may have even run into the rest of Team Ro there. Maybe they’ll go out for a drink or a meal. Maybe Tenzō will pull dango balls from a skewer with the same hand that slit a man’s throat this morning, that cleaned bloodied kunai and removed the panda-eyes of a tanuki mask from his face. His hands were covered in blood.

 

Tenzō might not even think about it.

 

Kakashi will, although it pains him to. Sometimes, it's all he can even think about. With a sigh, he pulls off one of his elbow-length gloves to open the door. The apartment is dark and tiny, as expected: he's lucky to have a separate bedroom, although he has the smallest, box-sized bathroom in the village to make up for it. The living room and kitchen are one room, although it's more of a kitchen with a kotatsu in one corner. The dogs are particularly fond of it in the winter, so much so that the quilt and cushions are often covered in fur.

 

Kakashi walks past it now and into the bathroom, mindful not to touch anything. He pauses only to remove his weapons and pouches, which he leaves on the little chest of drawers. He makes another note to clean the surface down afterwards. In the bathroom, he strips quickly, removing even his mask. The clothes fall into a heap on the floor. They're a bloody, sweaty mess, and so is Kakashi.

 

He washes his hands and then turns on the light. The extractor fan whirs as he tugs the cord and the shower hisses and sputters. It's a far cry from the shower in the Hatake complex, but at least here, Kakashi isn't likely to come home and drench himself in another man’s blood.

 

He's already drenched in another man’s blood, but that's beside the point. His house is clean and blood-free. It's safe. And he'll go far, far out of his way to keep it that way.

 

He dresses in the next room and hangs the towel up to dry. Another mask tugs up over his chin. It's a practiced routine. The dirty clothes in the bathroom are relocated into the washing machine, and then Kakashi empties out the pouches so that he can throw them in too. Everything is bloody, including his hands. He sighs and shoves back a curl of self-loathing before scrubbing his hands again.

 

The washing machine clunks. Kakashi takes a pack of cleaning wipes from a shelf in the bathroom and goes to scrub his kunai as well. And the chest of drawers, once he's done, once the kunai are laid out in a neat line across the floor, spaced just an inch apart so that they touch nothing else. He could have sealed them away, but that would require fetching a scroll and Kakashi’s touched enough things tonight.

 

The extractor fan is still buzzing. Kakashi strains his ear, trying to remember if he's forgotten something. He rarely does, not like this, but he's been growing tired of ANBU missions lately. His skills haven't wavered; he hasn't lost a teammate in a long time. But there's only so much killing he can do. There's only so much blood he can bear to have on his hands.

 

His ANBU mask. Of course. He lugs himself back into the bathroom to find it on the floor. There are more ridiculous places to leave it - on the kotatsu, for one, or anywhere that's difficult to clean. Soft furnishings. The bed. Kakashi cringes at the thought. He wipes the mask down, half-wishing that he hadn't painted it red. It's appropriate for an ANBU, though, and it fits with the bloodhound theme. He shakes his head at the thought and sets the mask down with his kunai, still lined up on the living room floor.

 

The only thing left to do is to seal all of the ANBU evidence away - oh, he thinks, remembering at the last moment to clean the handle of the front door. Luckily, there isn't anyone around to see him do this. Kakashi doesn't know how he'd explain it. It's dirty will probably be met with befuddled stares. I have to will land him in Psych.

 

Sometimes, Kakashi thinks about taking himself to Psych. He's a jōnin classed ninja and a member of ANBU. This stupid obsession is beneath him. He can kill people without batting an eye, but one ridiculous, little thought is enough to send him mad.

 

For the most part, he is calm while carrying out this… routine. In the past, he tried to control these compulsions, to do nothing when they drove him to act. But the fallout was messy, for the lack of a better word. Now, he does he best to hide his discomfort around others and then, in private, allows his mind to control him as it wishes. It's better that way. He's calmer that way. His apartment is the safe place, and if he has to clean it top-to-bottom to ensure it remains that way, then so be it.

 

He seals away the kunai and mask. The washing machine will clank for another half an hour. That's everything, Kakashi thinks as his shoulders drop with relief. He wonders what sort of post-mission routine Tenzō has and if it's anything like this. He hopes not. Tenzō’s a decent guy and he’s got enough on his plate as it is. Kakashi wouldn’t wish these crazy routines on anyone.

 

And that’s the thing - he knows it’s crazy. He’s crazy. And he hates himself for it. He should speak to Psych, he should speak to someone, but he would genuinely rather do anything else. Absolutely anything else. Not for the first time, he considers wearing gloves to the same obsessive degree that he wears a mask, but it would pose a problem when summoning his pack. And his pack - his pack are more important. They’re all that kept him sane after his father.

 

His dogs - and whatever this is, Kakashi thinks, finally allowing himself to step into the kitchen and scrape together something of a meal. Tomorrow, Gai will hound him for a challenge. He’s due to meet Kurenai for their monthly lunch too. He probably won’t see Tenzō until their next mission, unless Team Ro badger him for training. They’re infuriating like that. Kakashi doesn’t quite smile into his cup of tea, but the intention is there.

 

The rice cooker dings. Kakashi sets aside the tea and serves himself dinner, although he isn’t particularly hungry. Adrenaline and ration bars sustained him today, and he can still feel the spark of his chakra ready beneath his skin. He can still feel the spray of blood across his face, too, but he dispells those thoughts by biting hard on his thumb.

 

There’s a puff of smoke and then a pile of dogs.

 

If Kakashi’s compulsions were rational, then the spot of blood on his hand should bother him. But a chorus of boss! hey boss! rises up before he can think too hard on that. Urushi and Shiba dive under the kotatsu. Akino plods after them with more grace, navigating effortlessly despite the two small, blind eyes he hides behind his sunglasses. The apartment really isn’t big enough for eight dogs, but this doesn’t stop them. Bisuke and Ūhei each claim a cushion, and little Guruko scampers off to god knows where. This leaves Bull and Pakkun in the kitchen, and Bull’s gigantic presence is a comfort at Kakashi’s side. On top of Bull’s head is Pakkun, who watches Kakashi with old and knowing eyes.

 

“I think you guys need a bath this week,” Kakashi muses, and half of the pack exclaim noooo. He checks the timer on the washing machine - not long left, but long enough to eat - and then weaves around his dogs to settle at the kotatsu. Urushi and Shiba scamper out from underneath with their tails between their legs, but Kakashi just waves a hand.

 

Urushi’s permanent angry expression pulls up into a smile. “We good to touch you, boss?”

 

Kakashi hums his consent. The dogs clamber onto him before he’s even reached his cup of tea. Bull settles down like a rock-hard sofa at his back, and Bisuke wiggles back under the kotatsu. Even Guruko appears like the flash of a kunai, his long, droopy ears slapping over his face. Pakkun seats himself right in the dip of Kakashi’s lap, but that’s hardly a surprise.

 

The dogs have never been afraid to call him hare-brained, but they’ve never called him crazy, and they’ve never mocked him for his irrational behaviour. They’ve never tried to fix him, either, although Kakashi isn’t deluded enough to think he doesn’t need it. Over the years, they’ve learned to keep their distance when he’s at a low point, no matter how much it pains them. Bull used to slobber a lot more than he does now. Urushi would sink his teeth into everything, and Shiba liked to lick the apartment windows to welcome Kakashi home. All of these things would near-guarantee to blur Kakashi’s rationality into a haze.

 

“You’re quiet,” Akino says, his head resting on Kakashi’s knee. There’s a mumble of assent from the rest of the pack. “We hate your scary thoughts.”

 

Kakashi hates them too. He rolls the chopsticks over in his hand, realising that he’s hardly touched his food. One of the dogs whines.

 

“Wish we could eat them for you, boss,” Shiba says, meaning Kakashi’s thoughts, his ridiculous ways. “I’d eat anything if it’d make you happy.”

 

Shiba would eat anything anyway, but Kakashi appreciates the sentiment. He scratches Shiba between the ears and then sighs as the washing machine times out, the clank of the door unlocking startling at least three of the dogs. Bisuke eyes the machine with disdain. Kakashi smiles despite himself and sets aside his dinner.

 

“Leave it,” Pakkun says, planting himself firmly. He levels Kakashi with a sharp look, which is always equal parts terrifying and endearing. “Your clothes will stay clean in there. Sleep out here with us tonight.”

 

“Maa, thought I was pack leader,” Kakashi says, although he doesn’t make a move to rise. He’s tired from the mission and he’s tired of feeling out of control. The thought of body-flickering into Psych is a tempting one, but staying here and curling up under the kotatsu with his dogs is even more so.

 

“Bisuke, get the lights,” Pakkun orders. “It’s Bull’s turn to choose a movie.”

 

“So I’m not the pack leader?” Kakashi drawls, crow’s feet wrinkling around his eyes as Bisuke leaps up to hit the lightswitch. Six pairs of eyes and a pair of sunglasses level him with a flat look just before the apartment plunges into darkness. Ūhei yelps as Bull squashes his tail. The kotatsu shakes as somebody headbutts it. Then the TV flicks on and Urushi startles back, dazed by the light.

 

Elite ninja dogs, this lot. Kakashi laughs.

 

“All right, I accept defeat. Can somebody -?”

 

Guruko drags a blanket over. Everyone who can’t fit under the kotatsu dives under this instead. Bull drops the TV remote into Kakashi’s lap, where it hits Pakkun’s head and bounces onto the floor. It’s a little slobbery, so Kakashi takes a breath through his nose and wills himself to stay calm as he wipes the remote on his trousers. Bull nudges him in apology.

 

“You’re all getting bathed tomorrow,” Kakashi decides.

 

Urushi’s nooooo is the loudest. Bisuke thwumps him with a cushion.

 

“Anything for you, boss,” says Shiba, and that’s a sentiment voiced all round.