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Tasteless Tricks (Previously called "How to Piss Off a Chunin and Destroy Your Sex Life.")

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His skin is so pale it’s translucent; the blue of his veins tracing tributaries to his wound that leak out the sides in horrifying spurts.

“I think it severed an artery,” Iruka says quietly, kicking at the kunai he’d dislodged from Kakashi’s thigh earlier. “You were supposed to dodge it, you jackass.” The insult is half hearted, the word strangled by the chalkiness of Kakashi’s lips.

“Maa, sensei, you have better aim than I counted on.”

“Don’t talk, idiot.” Iruka swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, well and truly scared. What the hell is taking Gai-sensei so long? He should’ve been back with the medi-nin by now.

“I think I’m going to need mouth to mouth,” Kakashi says from where he lays on the grass. He strains his neck, lips puckered in expectation.

Iruka would laugh, but there’s so much blood that he thinks he might vomit instead. He opens his mouth to threaten Kakashi, to ask him if he understands the severity of the situation when he hears the snap of a twig from behind him. Quickly, he slips his hand into his flak vest, tugging out the shuriken he’s hidden in his inner pockets. As he moves into a crouch he never takes his eyes off of Kakashi, though he knows it’s not the smartest thing to do.

But then, he wonders, when has he ever been smart where Kakashi’s concerned?

He’s leaping to spin through the air, the shuriken flying from his fingertips when a kick knocks his feet out from under him and renders him helpless on the ground.

“Release,” says Kakashi, who is now standing over him, hands in his pockets and an obvious smile tipping the edge of his mask.

Baffled, Iruka whips around to where the jonin had been laying, his death a certainty only seconds before. There’s nothing there - not even a drop of blood on the grass.

“Kakashi, wha-?”

“Genjutsu, sensei. A rather good one, too, if I do say so myself.”

Iruka’s shaking, his fists balled so tight that his knuckles are white. He’s not sure if he should scream or cry, so he takes a deep breath and clambers to his feet.

“I’m going to kill you, Hatake-san,” he says lowly, clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides. “I’m going rip out your heart while you sleep.”

“Surely it wasn’t all bad,” Kakashi says, the barest hint of laughter beneath his words. “At least, it wasn’t for me. Five more seconds and you’d have jumped my bones.”

Not even the Copy Nin is fast enough to dodge Iruka’s punch.