Chapter Text
“We’ve been ‘in love’ on screen for years, Jiraiya-san! What’s so different now?”
Kakashi watched from the couch in Jiraiya’s trailer as Anko slammed a fist on the counter of the kitchenette. Jiraiya, dressed in a visibly worn oversized olive t-shirt over equally worn brown cargo pants, sighed as he stirred the instant ramen before him, shoulders rolling as if Anko was nothing more than a little muscle tension he could shake off. She was not, as Kakashi had come to learn over the time they’d known each other. She was more like a migraine, coming and going as she pleased and often immune to even the strongest of pain relief medications.
Unlike Kakashi, who was still dressed in the black and gray ensemble Hound wore throughout every movie, Anko had long showered and changed out of her costume. Her hair had still been damp when she dragged Kakashi out of his own trailer and into Jiraiya’s. It was nearly dry now.
“Anko-chan, we’ve been over this. The past two movies have been about lust and attraction ,” Jiraiya explained, holding up two fingers to represent the two themes in her face. Anko swatted his hand away, the signature pink polish of her character, Hana, still painted on each nail. Jiraiya frowned. “This one is about love— falling into it, being in it, and losing it. You played the other two beautifully— both of you,” he said, turning to look at Kakashi. When Kakashi failed to react, Jiraiya turned back to Anko. “We have the awards to prove it. But I’m not seeing any love when you’re out there. I’m not hearing it either. There’s no spark. It’s like watching two dead fish brush up against each other. Frankly, I’m not convinced Hana-chan and Hound-san even like each other very much.“ Kakashi looked up then as Jiraiya picked up and blew on a healthy helping of noodles. “And if I’m not convinced— me , their creator, the narrator of their love— how can we expect the audience to? Hm?”
Kakashi and Anko locked eyes then rolled them in sync.
The filming of Claim to Bonds, the fourth and final installment of the Will of Fire franchise, was running behind schedule– it was already their third day in the sleepy mountain side town Jiraiya had insisted be used as the backdrop for Hound and Hana’s reunion after the last of six increasingly taxing fight scenes and still the scene wasn’t coming together. At least not the way Jiraiya envisioned. Kakashi and Anko had run through the scene at least a hundred times, both in front of the camera and in the comfort of their trailers and hotel rooms during 2am coffee-fueled semi-fugue states– and it still wasn’t enough.
Sarutobi Hiruzen, who was seemingly director only in title and who could not refuse Jiraiya’s request to reshoot as many times as he felt were needed, was no help when Anko asked for a better explanation of what Jiraiya felt was missing from the scene. Kakashi went with her then too, only because he had nothing better to do and also because he was a little curious about what the answer was since they’d never had an issue like this with a scene before. Sure, there had been hiccups with their on-screen chemistry and creative conflicts when they’d first started working together, but once he and Anko became friends (a term he used loosely, at Anko’s request) most of those issues resolved themselves. But Hiruzen didn’t have any answers for them– he only pointed them in Jiraiya’s direction and waved them off when his assistant told him a studio head wanted to speak with him.
Which was why they found themselves watching Jiraiya down a cup of noodles too hot to be enjoyed.
“So it’s the kissing?” Anko asked, sounding more confused than before. Jiraiya groaned. Anko placed her hands on her hips, already fed up with him. “The intimacy coordinator thinks we’re doing well enough.”
“That woman doesn’t know anything about passion. You’d be better off taking advice from a nun.“
Kakashi thought the intimacy coordinator, Kaeda, was good at her job. She was a short, rail thin, soft spoken, and graying woman who had worked with him and Anko on the past two movies and the one they were currently filming. She was maybe one of a very short list of people keeping Jiraiya, and by extension the studio, from getting hit with a sexual harassment suit.
Kakashi liked and trusted her enough to send her pictures of his dogs when they weren’t working together, as regularly as his schedule would allow, and she liked him enough to send him pictures of her cats, whose fluffy round paws and faces he always appreciated seeing.
Anko liked her quite a bit too, seeing as they met up regularly outside of work to do things like get afternoon coffee and do morning yoga in the park. They’d invited Kakashi but he never accepted. Anko was incredibly easy to recognize and flanked by at least two or three paparazzi any time she stepped out– Kakashi couldn’t very well stay anonymous if people saw them together and connected the dots.
Anko held the bridge off her nose and closed her eyes, breathing deeply as Jiraiya leaned against the counter and slurped. After a long moment, during which Kakashi read through his script once more, though he’d memorized it months ago, Anko spoke again.
“Okay. Fine. It’s not convincing. How can I… what do you want me to do? Should I pout more? Make my eyes bigger? Ask Ume-chan to be more heavy handed with the blush?” Kakashi snorted at the thought of an even pinker-cheeked Hana staring up at him and waiting for a kiss. Anko glared at him, then turned back to Jiraiya. “Give me something to work with, old man! I’m not a mind reader. What’s missing from this scene that the past two movies haven’t lacked?”
Jiraiya set his food down and craned his head to the side, thinking. Kakashi didn’t have to look up to know Anko’s eye was twitching as the room went quiet.
Finally, Jiraiya snapped his fingers, and said, “Innocence and vulnerability!”
“ Innocence and vulnerability ? In a crime-action-thriller about a vengeful ninja wreaking havoc in the outskirts of Kyoto?” Anko said, voicing Kakashi’s own thoughts.
“Think about it: It’s the end of the movie. You’ve been partners for years and now, finally, in between the countless bodies of your enemies, of your family's killers, you’re ready to express your affections to one another, which have been slowly growing among the violence and bloodshed of your shared reality. You can’t see his face— maybe you never will— and yet… Hm.” Jiraiya stopped, eyes trailing up to the ceiling. Eyes still glued to the ceiling, he pointed at Kakashi. “It might be him that’s the problem.”
Kakashi lowered his script and raised an eyebrow, deciding it was worth his full attention. In the many years since he’d taken on the role of Hound, Jiraiya had never once called him a problem. No one had— except maybe Tsunade, who had to nurse him back to health when his immune system and body gave out from the lack of sleep and constant overwork. But apart from that, he did his job and went home when it was all over, holing himself up in the countryside until they called him out again.
“Oh? How so?” he asked.
Jiraiya leaned against the counter. “To put it plainly, you look rigid. Not boyish at all. First loves are supposed to be delicate and soft and ground shaking. They make your legs feel like jelly. You look the same as you always have,” he said, before nodding to himself and rubbing his chin. “Yes. That’s it. Anko-chan’s sweet face is doing all of the heavy lifting and you’re not reciprocating any of it.”
Anko hummed as Jiraiya spoke, rubbing her chin in the same way as if she’d finally understood the problem herself. “Jiraiya-san is right. It’s like talking to a rock.”
Kakashi frowned, knitting his brow as Jiraiya and Anko picked apart his performance in the scene, nitpicking at his stiff mannerisms and what they were referring to as ‘his vibe in general’. Kakashi wasn’t too proud to take criticism— he knew it was imperative to delivering a good performance and always welcomed it when it was warranted– but this was not one of those times. He knew Hound. He’d go as far as to say that in many ways, he was Hound.
“Hound is a trained assassin. He doesn’t do softness, or vulnerability. Besides, he’s in his 30s. That’s hardly boyish.”
“He can be soft! Remember the sex scene from Return to Fire?” Anko countered. “He was sweet to Hana-chan. I mean, the leg binding thing alone… With the ribbons? And the scene in Pools of Disdain when he told her how he’d lost his father and how he’d help avenge her family too? Everyone loved that scene! It’s in every fan edit out there. ‘ Surrender your fears, Hana, and drink from the wells of my anger ,’” she parroted the lines back to him as if he didn’t have them committed to memory, hand pressed over her heart.
“Maa, that’s different. He’s not incapable of being gentle with her, and he loves her in his own way, but he’s not going to change simply because she’s said she loves him. As long as they’ve—“
“You’re wrong,” Jiraiya interrupted.
Kakashi stopped himself from flinching, choosing instead to blink slowly at the man. “I am?”
“Yes. He would change. And he has.” Kakashi just blinked at him again at the same glacial pace. “Come on, Kakashi. You’ve read the script a hundred times. We’ve seen him open up to the world around him over the past two movies. Sure, he’s still the cool, strong, silent type, but he’s not so haunted by his past anymore. He’s forgiven his father. He’s learned to rely on the Green Beast and the others. We haven’t filmed it yet, but he’s even taken on apprentices— the one thing he said he’d never do.”
Kakashi crossed his arms, “I know that. That’s not what I’m saying—”
Jiraiya held up a hand, “Let me finish, kid.”
Kakashi eased his posture and stared at him through half lidded eyes. Now it was his turn to be fed up with him.
“The bad guys have been defeated. Justice has been served. Hana-chan is standing before him and she’s willing to stay and love him. He won’t admit it, but he is softer and more vulnerable because he has things he loves now. Hell, he might not think he deserves them, but that doesn’t matter anymore. He’s not willing to let them go.”
“I’m not denying that, Jiraiya-san. I’m committed to what you’ve written. I’m doing exactly as the script tells me, but–”
“That’s just the thing. Kakashi, you’re as devoted to Hound-san as I am and you understand him too– and that’s a big part of what’s made you and this franchise so successful over the years, but I think that’s to your detriment now. Everything feels too mechanical. That worked when he was a husk, who lived to kill and only out for revenge, but that’s not him anymore. This is one of the last scenes in the movie, and the most important. You can’t do much by way of facial expressions because of the mask, fine— but when you touch her, really feel it, and let your hands linger.”
Kakashi knit his brows in confusion. “That’s it? That’s all I get?”
“That’s all you need, kid.” Kakashi frowned at him again, sour and unsatisfied. Jiraiya sighed, throwing his hands in the air. “Just think about your first love– I don’t know. I’m a writer, not an actor.”
My first love? Oh god. Kakashi felt his body go stiff, slowly then all too quickly, his mind blanking, leaving him nothing more than a body– just bones and taut muscle. He wished he was wearing his mask– either Hound’s porcelain one or his own black cloth one.
Jiraiya laughed as Kakashi sat unmoving in his seat, not maliciously, but far too happy to see him so affected, “Ah, don’t tell me you’ve never been in love, Kakashi.”
Kakashi imagined he was the color of the fake blood they’d covered him in just hours earlier. Jiraiya stopped laughing when Kakashi didn’t respond and fell silent.
“Oh. Really?” he asked. “I thought… I mean, the magazines always–”
“You’ve never been in love?” Anko cut in, the shock more pronounced in her voice than it had been in Jiraiya’s.
He shook his head. The last time he’d even come close to it, they’d nearly gouged each other's eyes out. Not on purpose, but still. He still had the scar and one less fully functional eye as reminders.
“Not… in the traditional sense,” he finally responded. “It wasn’t, uh… requited. Or healthy.”
“Aw. That’s so sad,” Anko said, bottom lip jutting out at him in pity. He shrugged. It really wasn’t. The whole situation had left Kakashi cured of ever wanting love like that again. He was better off without it. And so was his good eye. “Who was it?” she added curiously.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does.”
“It doesn’t– it happened a long time ago.”
“Yeesh, how long ago was that? Your teens?” Jiraiya asked. Bingo, Kakashi thought but said nothing to affirm him. Jiraiya took that as a yes anyway. “Good god. You’re what? 30?”
“He’s 31,” Anko corrected. It wasn’t said in a tone that made him think she said it to make him feel better– to let him know he still had time. No; she said it like he was in a race against the clock and she looked at him with wide eyes, as if she could see the numbers dwindling over his head. “This explains so much. Are you–” She switched to a whisper, “a virgin?”
Jiraiya raised both brows at him.
Kakashi closed his eyes. When he opened them again, after a handful of seconds and one deep, deep breath, he simply said, “It explains nothing. And you don’t need to be in love to have sex with someone.”
“That’s a non-answer, you prude” she countered. Kakashi slumped back into the couch, unwilling to participate in the conversation if that was where it would lead. Jiraiya, miraculously, noticed his reticence, stepped in as the voice of reason.
“That doesn’t matter, it’s not like we could get him to fall in love any time soon anyway. Look, they’ll be shooting b-roll for the next three days before we try again. That means you have three days to get this right. Okay?” Jiraiya said, speaking to them both again. Both he and Anko nodded, the former more hesitant than the latter. “Good.”
The three of them looked at one another in silence, unsure of what to do next. Anko broke the silence.
“Was it the actress from the bridge scene in the first movie?”
Kakashi promptly left the trailer, Anko on his heels asking for details.
—
Hound
(breathily)
Are you injured?
HOUND places both hands on HANA’S shoulders and holds her at arm’s length, letting his eyes roam over her voluptuous form as she stands before him. When he finds nothing wrong, he caresses her cheek and feels an ache inside him begin to ease.
Hana
N-no. You’re—?
Hana places both her hands on his chest, shaking when the blood seeps through the fabric to coat her hands.
Hana
(gasping)
Hound-san—
Hound
I’m alright. It’s over.
She opens her mouth to speak, bottom lip quivering as tears begin to stream down her dirt and blood covered cheeks.
Hana
(voice watery)
It’s over….
She repeats the words over and over, growing louder each time. Finally, she slams her hands against his chest and pushes him away from her with what strength she has left. Hound lets her.
I— I thought— How could you leave me alone like that? When I saw my father’s sword was gone… I was so afraid…
She weeps. He takes her in his arms, chin resting on top of her head.
I love you, Hound-san. You don’t have to love me back, but please— please, stay by my side.
“Stop.” Kakashi separated himself from Anko, taking one step back before crossing his arms over his chest. She wiped away the tears in her eyes and scowled at him.
“Again ?” She hissed, tightening her hold on her script. Kakashi imagined she wished it was his neck but decided not to take it personally. He could understand her frustration afterall, even if he didn't feel it himself.
It was nearing 10pm and they'd been running through the scene for hours, pausing and starting over whenever Kakashi felt it was needed. Sometimes they made it through a few pages, sometimes only a few lines. Anyone who wasn't Kakashi— even someone like Anko, who was usually easy going in the face of most difficulties, would be driven mad by the repetition.
He made a mental note to buy her flowers. Or a stay at one of the many onsen they'd seen signs for in the area.
“I thought that was pretty good,” Kurenai said, not looking up from her work as she placed pins along the sleeves of one of Hana’s many revealing kimonos. She was there to fit Anko for one of the many costume changes she had during the movie. This one in particular, Kakashi assumed from the floral patterns and expensive fabric, would be used during Hana’s stint working undercover at a high-end brothel at the start of the movie, scenes which they’d be filming some weeks from then.
“It wasn’t,” Kakashi said, studying himself in the wall to wall mirror over Anko’s vanity. He was wearing the Hound mask this time, the porcelain fox face leaving him somehow expressionless and cold looking at the same time. “Jiraiya-san's right. Something feels wrong.”
“Not something – I was perfect , ” Anko said, stretching her arms over her chest in intervals. “And you’re still holding back.”
“You’re really letting what he said get to your head,” Kakashi rescinded lazily.
“I take my wins where I can get them when it comes to working with you, boy wonder,” she said snidely. Kakashi rolled his eyes. “Ooh, diva alert. Did you see that, Kurenai? Wait til I tell the tabloids.”
“Nothing they haven’t heard before.” It was his turn to stretch, arms rising over his head as he bent left, then right. The crack of his spine made Anko grimace and that made him laugh.
“I always forget how old you are,” Anko remarked.
“I’m 3 years older than you.”
“Maybe on paper. Physically, you’re like 50.”
“Maa, a lifetime of martial arts and 10 years of stunt work will have that effect.”
“I do my own stunts too. You don’t hear my joints creaking and popping like that.”
Kurenai giggled from where she was working, still focused on the kimono.
“I do a lot more than you do. Better, too.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. Kakashi raised his middle finger just as her smartwatch chimed. Anko looked down at the notification and cursed. “Shit. Uh, it’s late. How about we call it a night?”
Kakashi shook his head. “We have to make good use of every hour—“
“I have to call— ”
“We have three days—“
“And we practiced long enough—“
“— it helped, didn't it? We just need to keep going–”
“Kakashi, I swear to god, I will report you to the union rep. I have to call my girlfriend, ” Anko said, flashing the smartwatch at him, though too quickly for him to actually read.
Kakashi sighed, shoulders slumped, and gestured to the door.
Anko’s left eye twitched, “This is my trailer! You leave!” She jabbed him in the chest with a long, sharp, sparkly purple nail.
“But Kurenai–”
“Kurenai has to finish and can stay because I said so, now go!” She opened the door and pushed him out, sending him skipping down the steps, script in his hands and slippers on his feet. Anko slammed the door shut. He waited for her to throw his shoes out, but the door stayed closed. Defeated and thankful it was late enough in the evening that most of the crew had left for the night, Kakashi walked back toward his own trailer.
Pakkun waddled up to him when he entered, ancient, accusatory, big brown eyes stopping him in his tracks as he removed the Hound mask.
“I was gone a long time, wasn’t I?” he asked the pug as he leaned down to scratch behind his ears. Pakkun yipped, clipped and croaky, like he was telling him off. “I deserve that.”
After meeting with Jiraiya, he'd spent the rest of the afternoon practicing with Anko, leaving poor Pakkun alone and in the care of two PA’s whose names he couldn’t quite remember. Kakashi looked at the script in his hands, then at Pakkun at his feet.
He could stay and run the scene again– without Anko, which defeated the purpose of practicing in this circumstance– or he and Pakkun could leave and he could try again the next day once Anko was available. It wasn’t a difficult decision to make.
“How about we go back to the hotel, hm? I’ll order you a steak. Extra rare, the way you like it.” Pakkun barked properly this time, tail wagging and eyes shining. Kakashi smiled and scooped him up. “Atta boy.”