“steady your breathing. we’ll try again.” this doesn’t look like the training kakashi is used to; sitting cross legged in the grass, somewhere quiet iruka hopes he may find calming. healing is about accessing emotion, pouring a feeling into another’s open wound. this is as natural to iruka as breathing, but he knows kakashi is different. still, iruka has insisted, now that they share a life, that it is prudent kakashi know the basics of healing. if only for iruka’s peace of mind.
“it’s easier, if you think about why you’re doing this. the person. that someone loves them and wants them home safe.” this is perhaps not the standard practice for medic nin but it has worked for iruka, and he is the teacher now. he pulls out a kunai, makes a small cut on his palm, one he can heal himself if this goes nowhere. iruka then guides his husband’s hands to lay flat against his own, palms pressed into palms, to allow himself to feel what kakashi is able to conjure. “can you try it with me?”
in theory, he should take to it easily. it capitalized on chakra control, on knowing the anatomy of the body you were mending... but there was something else about it. it was hard to think of mending someone else's flesh when kakashi had been in pieces for so long. some days he still was, but at least he didn't have to put himself together alone anymore.
kakashi had always harbored an aversion to learning medical ninjutsu. it had saved he & his friends' lives a million times & yet it felt wrong in his hands. they were sticky with years of blood & none of it was shed in the name of healing... but iruka had taught him a hundred lessons & in those was the importance of change. of facing the things that he did not understand, the things he didn't think he could. so, guided by iruka's hand he would try.
but he's being trying long enough that he's frustrated. it would be hard to tell if he were sitting across from anyone else, but his husband knows him well enough to catch it. in the tension of his shoulders, the weight of his breath, the sharp glint in his eye. he breathes at iruka's instruction, slowly, though his nose. it's steady for only a moment before it pauses at iruka's split skin.
" iruka, don't - " but it was already done. an offering, a link to the jutsu he's trying to understand. of course iruka was no stranger to blood, especially not his own... but it still pulled at kakashi's heart. the edge he's been walking all day melts into concern & his hands fall naturally into iruka's, palm against palm, blood pooling slowly in the space between them.
it feels like a breakthrough is always just out of reach. he can see it, sometimes even brush his fingers along it... but never quite grasp it in his hands. usually kakashi takes to new skills quickly. it was what he did. every since he was a boy, he'd been ravenous for knowledge. for another point to prove, for another skill to master & offer up on a plate. it kept him valuable & busy enough to keep from being to still. time skipped & stretched & somersaulted all around him, but at least it passed without him having to look at it. now, he feels it close again at the call of iruka's blood. it cannot be wasted, not when he offers it so freely. so kakashi holds his hands a little tighter, trying to soothe his own chakra into the shape of something less destructive.
usually, his chakra crackles with divine intent. violence was what he had always known best, it had always been his tool to protect others. though he was now learning a new way, old habits died hard. he tries to reason with it, to swallow it, to do anything with it other than destroy. it doesn't want to listen to him, of course. it was stubborn as he was. but perhaps it feels the same innate pull towards iruka that kakashi does, perhaps that is why it settles into a prickly sensation at the ends of his fingers.
he tries to visualize it. iruka's hand in his, mended by their shared will. what it feels like when they are safe at home or walking through the market. how his palm feels on the small of kakashi's back. passing moments, brief & intimate that they shared. things he wanted to protect, things he needs to remain safe.
he feels his chakra try to weave in & out of iruka's split flesh, trying to stitch it together... & it does, for a moment. the edges of the wound come together barely, the bleeding slows & kakashi feels a ray of hope shine from in between his failures... it's enough to remind his chakra what it was, connecting to that prideful sense of self it had known for so long. when he loses direction, gentle pins & needles turn into a succinct shock. kakashi recoils, drawing his hands back quickly.
" forget it. i'm not cut out for this sort of thing, " if he were speaking to anyone else, he would never admit it. he would rather implode than imply he could give up. but it made him nervous, how quickly he had lost control. kakashi had never used a gentle hand with his chakra, he always kept it in a firm grip. it wanted to spark & jump & dance to the beat it always has... how does he make it into anything other than a weapon? despite his self-loathing he still cannot stand to see iruka bleed. so be breathes in through his nose once more, slow, deep, reassessing. he takes iruka's bleeding hand in his, " okay. one more time. for you. "