Title: The Copy Ninja
Author: JBMcDragon
Rating: PG-13 for innuendo and the occasional curse word. The epilogue, which can be avoided without missing any story, is rated NC-17.
Status: Written, will be posted once a week over the next 7.
Genre: Drama, I guess, with a heavy dose of comedy and sarcasm. Mild KakaIru (until the end, when it's no longer mild. *grins*)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, nor am I making any money off of them. They belong to Kishimoto, to my knowledge, or maybe Toykopop or something. Just not me. Used without permission, and not for profit.

Summary:

Never has the term 'Copy Ninja' been so appropriate.

Wandering home from a mission to copy a jutsu that makes other jutsu go wrong, Kakashi is pretty sure the world is out to get him. Imagine his surprise when he learns he's already been home for a full twenty-four hours. Except it's not him--it's a clone gone wrong. But when it doesn't vanish at injury, thinks of things even before he does, and not even Pakkun can tell the difference... Well, who's to say which is a clone, and which is the real thing?

Finding himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, Iruka is saddled with a ninja that might be a clone. Mind you, an earlier drunken mistake led to great sex and an awful morning after; being a clone would be Kakashi's just desserts, in his opinion. But as they spend time in each other's company, he realizes that he'd be sorry to see this Kakashi go--and certain the man is going to.

How do you fight the facts when they're stacked against you? Not even a genius is sure of that answer.


The Copy Ninja 1/6
The Copy Ninja 2/6
The Copy Ninja 3/6



Chapter Four

Someone was muttering. It was both vastly annoying and rather soothing, which in itself was annoying. On the other hand, being annoyed meant no pain and alive, so that was soothing. All in all, Kakashi supposed it was a crap shoot.

"How can you not know what a bunshin is? We just spent the week covering this..." someone grumbled. It was followed by the scratch of a pen slashing over paper, and the rustle of that paper being moved.

Groggily, Kakashi opened his eyes. The world greeted him in a swirl of color and monochrome that he didn't normally notice, and it took several long seconds for his brain to start re-translating what he was seeing into something understandable.

Hospital. The voice muttering about chakra flow was Iruka, sitting in a chair with papers spread out on the little food tray and across Kakashi's legs, which were mountain ranges under an ugly yellow blanket.

Kakashi worked his throat to try and get saliva into his mouth, and spoke hoarsely. "How long've I been out?"

Iruka jumped, red pen scrawling surprise across the page. "Holy crows, you scared me."

He smirked, though it was a pale shadow of his usual expression. "'Holy crows'?"

"Can't swear around kids. Shut up. And you've been out for about three days."

He closed his eyes and tried to think. Three days. They'd danced a number across his pathway system, then. "Today's Tuesday?"

"Wednesday."

"That's four days." He frowned and opened his eyes, glancing at Iruka.

"I said about." Iruka reached over, callused fingers pressing against Kakashi's wrist as if the machine attached had somehow forgotten to measure his heartbeat.

Kakashi pulled his arm away. "Hakate?"

The hesitation was slight, but there. "He woke up late yesterday."

"Ah." It was the only word Kakashi said, but it was the only word he needed to say. Silence hung.

Hatake had returned from the mission first. Found Tsunade first. Shown the jutsu first. Woken up first.

And Kakashi remembered wisping into smoke, only willpower dragging his body back together.

"They didn't let him leave until today. They wanted him to stay overnight for observation."

"Hm."

"I'm sure they'll want you to stay overnight for observation."

"Hm."

Iruka sat, quietly stiff, and stared at his hands. Kakashi could see him out of the corner of his eye, head bowed slightly, ponytail hanging like a wilted flag.

"They'll probably want to talk to you, since you're awake," the chuunin said.

Kakashi nodded. It was just a matter of time.

Screaming in agony, watching his body dissolve, and he was not going to die--

Everything was just a matter of time.

**

Iruka took his charge home on Thursday, after school. In the time he'd known Kakashi--not long, and for half of it the man had been unconscious--he'd seen him thoughtful, arrogant, blasé and at ease. He'd never seen him... pensive wasn't right, but neither was moody. He simply wasn't himself. He was lost in his own head, too contained to be sulking but not aware enough to be thinking.

It made Iruka uncomfortable. He tapped the end of his pen on the sheet in front of him, trying not to flick glances over at the jounin curled loosely on his couch. Settled in one corner with both feet up, Icha Icha Paradise in his hand, he'd been sitting still for the last hour and a half. He hadn't even turned the page.

At long last Iruka cleared his throat and spoke without looking over. "Did they talk to you?"

"Hm." From the tone, he guessed that was a 'yes.'

"And?"

The jounin finally turned a page. "They apologized for the genjutsu. Said nothing was conclusive. They're still working on it. Made sure I was all right and not about to have a psychotic break and sent me home with pills."

Iruka turned to look at Kakashi. Wearing black flannel pants and a blue T-shirt, he was the epitome of lazy. Iruka didn't buy it for a second. "Are you?" he asked.

"About to have a psychotic break?" The words stretched through the air, lifting and falling with idle sarcasm.

Iruka's grip tightened with annoyance. "Are you okay."

"Must be."

He turned back to his paper. It was blatantly obvious Kakashi wasn't okay, but if he wanted to fake it that wasn't Iruka's business. He glared at the sheet and violently marked one question wrong. "If you weren't okay, no one would blame you." He hadn't meant to say that. With the words crashing to the floor between them, he held his breath to see if Kakashi would notice.

"Of course not. They'd blame the jutsu." He turned another page.

"Kakashi--"

"Can I read in peace? Or are you supposed to guard my thoughts, too?"

Iruka fell silent, simmering with unspoken words. He tried to turn back to his grading.

**

Kakashi didn't take the pills that night. He didn't bother sleeping that night. He sat in Iruka's window and looked out over the village that was his to protect, watching it slumber.

Except it wasn't his to protect. It was Hatake's to protect. He replayed those moments in his mind's eye, remembering the jutsu that had created a clone--created him--remembering the way it had felt. But those weren't his memories. They were just the ones that were created with him, after he'd appeared.

Everything from that moment forth had been altered by the enemy nin's jutsu. He'd been given true life, and a history that went with that life, and everything he remembered wasn't actually his.

Except dissolving in the midst of a genjutsu. That was his.

He was no fool. If he were trying to dispel a clone by illusion, he'd make it think it was dissolving. He'd asked, when Ibiki had arrived for his debrief.

Ibiki's eyes had lit, and shadowed. And, in the same tone people used to tell someone their family was dead, he said they hadn't built that into the jutsu.

Kakashi guessed it was a small miracle the man hadn't killed him then and there.

He looked out over the village that wasn't his to protect, and wondered if killing him would constitute murder. He remembered everything, he had a life. He could probably argue to live.

And he had half the chakra he should, because he--Hatake--had split it to create the perfect copy of the Copy Ninja. He couldn't protect the village with half the chakra.

The sun rose, spilling light over rooftops and monuments, over the silent buildings that were the Uchiha compound, down streets just beginning to fill with noise and movement. The sun rose over a village that wasn't his, and in a deep shadow half a block away, he saw an ANBU hunter shift position and re-settle, faceless mask turned to watch Iruka's window.

Whatever a clone remembered, it didn't have a life of its own. He would know that, be ready to be absorbed back into his maker, if the jutsu hadn't scrambled everything.

Kakashi stepped away from the window, and wondered if he would see the end of the day.

**

Even though he was feigning sleep, the children kept sneaking glances toward the jounin in the corner of the classroom. Iruka smiled sweetly and assigned them all a pop quiz. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw the mask twitch: a brief crook of narrow lips under dark cloth.

It was good. Kakashi hadn't been smiling that morning, nor on the walk to the school, nor at the first break. The man was pale and drawn, and the lack of rumpled bedclothes made Iruka suspect he hadn't slept at all. Whether that was by choice or because of nightmares, Iruka hadn't asked. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Kakashi was still faking sleep when the lunch bell rang, and Iruka escorted the children out of the room. He stood in the doorway, watching the last of them tumble down the hall, then turned and looked back.

"They're gone."

Kakashi grunted and looked up, cracking his single visible eye. "How long have you known I was awake?"

He snorted. "Please. I'm a sensei. I know everything that happens in my classroom."

A tired chuckle worked it's way laboriously out of a narrow chest.

"Do you want some food?" Iruka pulled out his lunch, packed the night before, and unloaded two bento boxes.

"Hm. No, I'm fine."

"You have to eat something." He could feel his brows draw in, a frown tug at his mouth. "You'll waste away. You're not exactly overweight."

The smile Kakashi gave him wasn't true, nor even the bright beaming grin that arced his eye into a crescent. "It's all right."

Iruka unloaded his own lunch, sitting at his desk and trying not to let Kakashi starving affect him. He failed pretty spectacularly. "I'm sure they didn't want to do what they did."

From the blank look on the other man's face, Iruka decided he'd guessed wrong. Whatever was bothering Kakashi, it wasn't that his own ANBU had tortured him. He was about to ask what was wrong--not that that had worked yet--when a bellow from the cafeteria had him rising. "Never a dull moment," he muttered, and raced down the hall.

He was only gone for five minutes, but when he returned there were voices in the room.

"--leave the village."

"I won't."

"We'll be keeping a guard on you."

"I know."

Iruka stepped around the corner, frowning at the two cloaked and masked figures looming over Kakashi, who was still slouched in his chair. "What is this?"

They turned as one, staring at him from hollowed out eyes and rictus smiles. "Sensei," one said, and they bowed together. Then both leaped for the door, vanishing into sunlight as if it had been full dark.

"What was that?" He turned back to Kakashi, scowling further as the man pulled his mask back up. He wasn't fast enough to hide the seal painted in ink on his throat. The one over his eye had faded days ago.

"Welcoming committee. They're begging me to join the PTA, but I just don't have time..." He settled back again and closed his eyes, and even though Iruka spoke afterward, he couldn't get Kakashi to respond.

**

He didn't wake screaming, because he never woke screaming. But his body was on fire, and there were tears streaming down his face. Rubbing moisture off his cheeks, trying to convince himself the pain was only phantom, he rolled to his feet and walked to the window.

It was still full dark out. His body throbbed with remembered agony that had never happened. Only the burn in his shoulder was real.

As real as a clone's pain could be, anyway. Maybe it was all phantom pain. Phantom pain, phantom pleasure, phantom memories. What happened to a clone, anyway? It was reabsorbed into the greater being. It sounded vaguely religious, really. Disappear off the earth, return to whence he'd come, join the greater unconscious.

That was a little disturbing.

He took a deep breath of cool air, looking out at the view that was rapidly becoming familiar. Across the street was another ANBU, tucked in between two windows, almost hidden from view. Almost. Kakashi ignored him.

They were looking for a way to kill him, if they could. Without actually killing him. They'd said as much the afternoon before. He'd known it was coming. He was living on borrowed time, now.

Kakashi leaned against the frame, closing his eyes and letting memories wash over him. That battle. His creation. Monkey, Ram, Dog. Twist the chakra this way and warp it over here. A loop, not a circle, and running backward through the heart path--that was brilliant. Dangerous, but brilliant.

When it hit him, he laughed. Not a happy laugh of discovery, but the helpless, ironic laugh of a man facing the gallows. He knew how to break the jutsu. He leaned his head against the window and laughed and laughed and laughed until he cried.

"Kakashi?"

He turned, still leaning against the wall, and stared at the man watching him with concern in dark eyes. Concern. For a clone. A clone that might just be insane, judging by the laughter. Kakashi smiled brilliantly, allowing both eyes to close as if in great joy. "I know how to break the jutsu and solve everything."

He didn't see Iruka's hesitant smile, but somehow he could hear it. "Well, that's good, right?"

"It's brilliant. Just fucking brilliant." He could never tell anyone. He could live his half-life. Surely having two Copy Ninja would make up for them being at half power. Make up for them losing a good chunk of their jutsu, because they didn't have enough chakra.

He melted to the floor, still chuckling with despair.

"Kakashi?"

He shook his head and braced his head in his hands, elbows jammed on his bent knees.

The quiet pad of footsteps came closer. The rustle of cloth as Iruka knelt. He could smell the man, ink and bubbling brooks and the faint hint of soap. Fingertips ghosted over his bicep. "It's not good?"

There was an ANBU outside, waiting for him to try and bolt. He rubbed his hands over his face, removing all tears and fighting to get himself under control. His head hit the wall behind him with a thump, and he stared across the room. Above the stove, a clock stood out in eerie green. Two a.m.

His village to protect. And to protect it best, he had to dissolve into nothingness and let someone else take his place. Take his life. Did remembering it make it his life?

"Kakashi." The fingers slipped away. The voice was cautious. "You're scaring me."

"Am I?" He tried another smile, and found it nearly broke his face. Darkness was almost as good as a mask, though, at hiding his expressions. "Don't worry. There's a hunter across the street waiting to take me out if I lose my mind." Now he could see Iruka's face, moonlight and shadows in the darkened room. His eyes were black, his hair falling around broad cheekbones and brushing over strong shoulders.

"That isn't exactly reassuring."

Kakashi laughed again. "No, I suppose not." He took a breath and looked at Iruka, maskless and hiding nothing. He understood why his other self had slept with the man. Iruka was attractive, solid, exuded confidence. And of course he was a clone, because despite his attraction he hadn't once tried to get the chuunin into bed.

Iruka shuffled half a step back, one hand hidden in the folds of robe. There had to be a kunai involved, from the way shadows played off cloth. Kakashi couldn't blame him. He summoned another smile, this one honest. "I'm the clone."

Confusion was predominant on Iruka's face. Denial quickly followed. "No--"

"Yes."

"You can't know--"

"I can." He doubted it was his brilliant argument that convinced Iruka to be silent. But perhaps it was his tone, accepting of what had happened. Sometimes, the luck of the draw was against ninja.

Of course, he wasn't really a ninja.

"Are you sure?" Iruka asked finally.

Kakashi nodded. The kaleidescope of emotions from before had drained away, leaving him oddly numb.

To his credit, Iruka didn't argue. "I'm sorry." And there was that tone, again, of someone's death. Funny, how even ninja could be uncomfortable with death. They knew how to deal with it in the battlefield, when it was unexpected. But to stare into someone's eyes and know they were breathing their last few days...

Kakashi's gloomy musings were interrupted. "Is there anything I can do?"

He smiled. "Pity sex?"

Iruka's mouth twisted dryly. "I don't think so. You might vanish mid-orgasm, and how guilty would I feel?"

It tugged a reluctant laugh from Kakashi. He sat, mind drifting. "We should go to the Hokage tomorrow."

Iruka only nodded.

"And then..." He looked up, trying to put a bright slant on it. "Then you'll be fewer one houseguest."

The hidden kunai apparently tucked away, Iruka walked close and sat down as well, shoulder to shoulder with Kakashi, leaning against the wall. "You haven't been a bad houseguest. Except for the disgusting bandages in the shower."

Kakashi chuckled softly. "Sorry about that."

They sat in the quiet. No dogs barked. No children played.

"I think," Iruka began, "that I like you better than the other you." He shifted, giving Kakashi a three-quarter view of his scarred face. "I'll miss you."

"You've only known me for a week," Kakashi pointed out.

Iruka looked almost comically downcast. "I know. I get emotional."

The jounin's shoulders shook, mouth twitching up. "Not a good trait for a ninja."

"You're telling me."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, as the moon cast new shadows through the apartment window.

"How's your shoulder?"

"Hurts." Burns always did, he remembered. He hadn't ever had any, because he'd never had anything.

"Want me to put more salve on it?"

He shrugged. "Not much point."

"Might make it stop hurting."

It was tempting to say that it didn't matter if it he hurt; it wouldn't last much longer, anyway. He wasn't a real person. But that seemed a little too emotive, so Kakashi just shrugged and watched as Iruka gathered the things. He removed his shirt carefully, scooting away from the wall and turning his spine to the chuunin. Careful hands pulled away medical tape, applied with gel so it wouldn't stick so badly, and began to brush soothing ointment over burns and raw spots alike. The pain dulled into a background murmur, and Kakashi found himself relaxing.

"Do you really remember everything about... the other you?" Iruka asked.

He just nodded, trying not to be heartbroken over the friends he'd be leaving behind. He wouldn't, really. He'd be one with the other Kakashi, somehow. He just wouldn't be... himself. It wouldn't matter to them; they'd still have the other him.

"Are you sure you're--"

"Yes."

Iruka finished in silence. When he was done, he put the implements away. Kakashi just sat, his shirt bundled in his lap, staring at folds of cloth. Iruka kneeled in front of him, mirroring his position. Slowly, Kakashi looked up.

The chuunin reached out, brushing his hand over the seal painted on the pale skin of Kakashi's throat. "To keep you in the village."

It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway. Warm skin slid over his flesh, a thumb tracing the outline of black ink.

"We could wait a few days. Do some things. Go see Tsunade next week."

He caught Iruka's wrist as the man's thumb swept down to the hollow between his collarbones. "Tomorrow." If he put it off, it would be too easy to keep putting it off.

Iruka didn't meet his gaze. Wordlessly, he nodded and took back his hand. "Tomorrow."

************

www.jbmcdonald.com <--original work

http://asylums.insanejournal.com/fallen_leaves/profile <-- Fallen Leaves, collaborative writing. A bit about that, because I've been asked:

Fallen Leaves is a Naruto AU, set about 7 years before the start of Naruto. It's a world about the workings of ANBU, pretty grim and gritty at times. (Other times, not so much. :D) It's a bit like a serial, like a television show with a big cast, where there are lots of stories but they all take place in the same universe and they often (but not always) interconnect. There are canon characters (Kakashi, Genma, etc) and original characters (Katsuko, Ryouma, etc). If you don't want to read all the backstory, you can hit up The Story So Far (which sums everything up so you can jump right in), and you can also check out The reader's guide and thread index (which walks you through all the stories, with links) where a 'thread' is a story, and an 'arc' is a series of stories that kinda need to be read together.

There's an official shiny ad, but I forget where. >.> You should also check out Fallen Leave's friends, because there's an OOC comm (where we post fun stuff, and when we've finished a story), and each character has their own journal which is only semi-Fallen Leaves Canon, but still fun. ;-D

Hope you enjoy!

J