Chapter Text
It's a Tuesday afternoon, and Yamato is late.
He's not ordinarily late. On the contrary, he prefers to be early if he can help it; but on this particular occasion, circumstances and a nasty computer virus that required immediate attention have conspired against him, and he's running twenty minutes behind schedule. The flow of shoppers through the mall he regularly cuts through to get to the train station is not especially heavy today, thankfully, and he's power-walking through them, focused only on counting his steps, when he is distracted by something.
"Ten," the deep voice says lazily. It's not loud, clearly not intended to carry much beyond the person who spoke the word, but somehow his ears catch it through the general buzzing of the midday crowds.
Yamato turns, despite the silent shrieking from his brain to hurry it up already. He's just passed through a small open-air courtyard in the middle of the mall, filled with people streaming through in both directions. Theoretically, the voice could have come from any one of them. He sweeps his eyes over his fellow shop-goers.
There. At one of the white-topped tables dotted throughout the courtyard. There's a man, nose and mouth hidden by a thick scarf, unusual in this weather, and one eye hidden by white hair, probably bleached. His other eye is unmistakeably looking straight at Yamato, as are the eyes of the dark-haired woman seated next to him.
Yamato's laptop, left on when he fled the apartment in panic, is burning a hole in the arm it's tucked under; the shoulder strap on his bag is digging heavily into him. He has to go right now if he's going to make it in time.
Cursing himself, Yamato makes his way over to the table.
The woman gives a little gasp when she sees him coming towards them and says something quietly to the guy beside her. She's giggling when he reaches their table, and continues giggling as he stands in front of it, feeling like an absolute fool.
The man with the bleached hair tilts his head. "Yep," he remarks slowly, in the same deep voice Yamato heard earlier. "Definitely a ten. What do you think, Shizune?"
"I think six," the woman says, stifling her giggles. She shakes her head and grins. "A very solid six, though."
A pink flush spreads across Yamato's cheeks. "Um," he says. "You're talking about me like I'm not here."
Bleached hair man and - Shizune? - exchange brief glances. "We're sorry," says the woman, still grinning widely. "We're not used to people coming up to us like this."
"Then - why did you say 'ten' so loudly?"
Shizune nudges her companion. "Told you you were projecting too far."
"It's not my fault you're hard of hearing," bleached hair man replies, adjusting his scarf. He fixes Yamato with that one dark eye again. "I apologise for disturbing you. Can I buy you a coffee or something to make it up to you?"
"Ooh, smooth, Kakashi."
Bleached hair man is... not unattractive, from what can be seen above the scarf. It is, however, just past one forty-five, or so says the digital display bolted to a wall a few feet away, and that means Yamato only has fifteen more minutes to reach his destination. "Sorry, but I - I really have to be somewhere."
"Ahhh," Shizune says. She looks more disappointed than bleached hair man does, in all honesty.
Yamato makes to leave, but remembers at the last second the question that originally brought him to the table. "\When you said ten, before," he asks awkwardly. "You meant-"
"I meant you're the cutest person I've seen through this place all year," bleached hair man says, giving him what Yamato thinks is a smile, judging from the wrinkles around his eye. "See you around sometime."
As he sprints rapidly for his train, Yamato isn't sure which is hotter: the laptop under his arm, or his burning face.
~~
Shizune and the bleached hair man are sat at the same table the next day when Yamato passes through, although he gives them a fairly wide berth. He's still a touch embarrassed from their first encounter.
On Thursday, he takes a different route through the mall altogether. Embarrassment is a lingering emotion, alright?
The subsequent Tuesday, however, part of the shopping centre has been cordoned off. One of the ultra-fashionable clothing boutiques located there has become fashionable no longer and is due to be replaced by a local chain, so all customers are being directed through the courtyard. Past the sunny area where the two people he would really rather avoid are sitting.
Yamato spots them immediately, lounging around the same table yet again. He inhales deeply, clutching his laptop and broken bag - the strap, already strained from years of use, snapped a day earlier - to his chest, and steels himself to walk past them.
After a two-second count, he marches across the courtyard, avoiding eye contact with anybody, and only exhales once he's reached the other side. The weight pressed against him feels lighter all of a sudden, as if his worry had been holding him down this whole time.
No, wait. His bag is gone.
Yamato turns around, very slowly, just in time to see Shizune picking his bag up from where it had slipped from his grasp. She waves cheerfully at him, and nudges bleached hair man, who does the same.
"Oh, god," Yamato mumbles.
"Here you go," Shizune calls to him as he approaches, holding out the bag with the two ends of its severed strap dangling over the ground. She grabs one with her other hand. "Did that happen just now, or...?"
"No, it was already broken." He takes it from her and smiles nervously. "Thank you."
"No problem," Shizune says. She gives bleached man hair another unsubtle nudge. "So, the uh-"
The man springs to life. "That coffee's still on offer, if you're not busy today," he says, leaning forward. His eye is - twinkling? No, that can't be right. He's certainly more animated than he had been a moment ago; when Yamato came up, he could've easily been mistaken for a scarecrow propped up against the seat.
"Six," Shizune says in a loud whisper.
Bleached hair man's twinkling eye darts to the left, looking somewhere behind Yamato. "I'd say five. She's got style, though."
"Is this what you do all day?" Yamato asks, frowning. "Just sit here and, uh, rate people?"
"Not all day," bleached hair man answers. He leans back again. "So, coffee?"
The offer is... well, considering how much trouble he's been going to to avoid it, it's shockingly tempting. Yamato really should leave - but he's running an hour early, and he's curious now.
"Okay, sure."
He hopes he's not going to regret this.
~~
Five minutes later, Yamato is seated on a wonky plastic chair that bleached hair man poached from a nearby table, sipping the coffee that said man - he still hasn't introduced himself yet and Yamato can't quite remember what Shizune called him that first time - bought for him. Shizune quietly calls out a number every so often, and the man replies with his own rating without missing a beat. How he can even see half the people Shizune's apparently looking at, Yamato has no idea.
"So," Shizune says between numbers. "What's your name, Mister Ten?"
"I thought you gave me a six," Yamato replies, taking another sip from his coffee cup.
She shrugs. "Higher ratings supercede. We decided pretty early on."
"How long have you been doing this?"
"A while," bleached hair man says. He tugs his scarf down so he can slip the straw from his iced tea into his mouth; Yamato catches a glimpse of a straight nose and thin lips before the man manages to fold his scarf around the straw, preserving his anonymity and letting him drink at the same time. His dedication to staying incognito might be more admirable if it weren't entirely ruined by his rather unique messy hair. "So. What's your name?"
"Yamato," Yamato says. "And you are...?"
He thinks that's a smile under the scarf and straw. "Kakashi. Nice to meet you."
"And I'm Shizune," Shizune chimes in. "Seven."
"Huh?"
She points to a tall, well-dressed man leaning against a wall on the other side of the courtyard, intently focused on his cellphone. "That guy. I'd say he's about a seven."
"Yep," Kakashi says, sucking on his straw. "So, Yamato. What do you do?"
Yamato explains that he's studying at a university two hours away by train, which is why he was in so much of a hurry the other day. Not because he'd been incredibly flustered by the whole 'ten' thing. Not at all.
They both nod understandingly. "Two hours both ways?" Shizune asks in a sympathetic tone. "That'd turn my hair as white as Kakashi's."
"I don't think that's how it works," says Kakashi. The gurgling noise of air being sucked through a straw sounds from his plastic cup. He frowns slightly and pops the straw from his mouth, pulling the scarf back into place swiftly before resuming his conversation. "My hair's all-natural, anyway. nothing to do with stress."
"I-it is?"
"Yep," Kakashi says again, staring straight at Yamato. It's quite disconcerting to be looked at with such focus, but Yamato is determined not to blush.
He does feel bad for mentally referring to Kakashi as 'bleached hair man' when Shizune confirms that the hair is indeed natural, though. Unless it is bleach or dye, and they're just messing with him. He can't tell. Shizune is friendly, but Kakashi is just plain weird.
But really good-looking too, if the brief glance Yamato got under the scarf is anything to go by.
Shizune screws up her nose. "Two," she says.
Yamato isn't sure who she's referring to, but somehow, Kakashi manages to follow her line of sight and wrinkle his own nose. "Maybe a three," he offers.
"Two," Yamato says suddenly.
Kakashi and Shizune look at him with interest. "Who?" Kakashi asks, visible eye flitting around the courtyard.
"Uh, no, it's nearly two o'clock. So I need to get going."
"Oh." Kakashi actually looks disappointed this time.
Yamato crumples his coffee cup in one hand, tucking his other belongings under his arm with the other, and smiles at him. Both of them. "Thanks for the coffee. And the bag, before."
"No problem," Shizune says with a little wave. Then, as he turns to go, "Wait!"
"Did I forget something?" Yamato asks, puzzled.
Shizune elbows Kakashi, looking embarrassed. "Kakashi, aren't you going to...?"
There's a short, awkward pause before Kakashi blinks at her. "Ask for his number?" he finishes for her, glancing at Yamato. "He comes here all the time, right? And besides, I already know his number."
Yamato frowns. Shizune's brow furrows like she knows exactly where this is going.
"Ten," Kakashi says, catching Yamato's eyes and sounding extremely pleased with himself.
Yamato hurries away to the sound of Kakashi's quiet laughter and Shizune's audible eye-rolling, feeling a faint blush coming on despite himself.
~~
Tuesday rolls into Wednesday with uncomfortable swiftness, leaving Yamato tired and uncertain about the quality of the work he'd produced late last night. He sets off for the station - and by extension, the shops - about half an hour earlier than usual. He is not, for the first time in a week, thinking about how to avoid Kakashi and Shizune.
Actually, by the time he strides into the mall courtyard, Yamato's thinking of how to ask if he can sit with them again. They - it's ridiculous, but they interest him.
Shizune is sat with her back to his ordinary approach today. Kakashi is slouched in a chair diagonally opposite her, but his scarf-hidden face is further obscured by a thin book with a faded green cover, and he doesn't show any sign of seeing Yamato as he hands over his change to the girl at the coffee shop and walks slowly over to their table.
There's an awkward moment of silence before they notice him, in which Yamato considers dropping his coffee and running for the hills. It's awfully like lunchtime at high school all over again.
"Hello," Kakashi says, without looking up from his book.
Shizune swivels in her chair - difficult, considering the immobility of said chair, but she manages, with a nasty plastic-scraping-concrete sound. "Hi, Yamato," she says. "You want to sit down with that coffee?"
Yamato nods, and is about to take the chair to Shizune's side before Kakashi pulls out the fourth chair at the table, on his own left, and pats it meaningfully. He hasn't removed his nose from his book even to do this, Yamato notes.
"So," Kakashi says as Yamato settles himself at the table, "You came back."
"Yeah." He doesn't feel like explaining further than that, especially since he's not completely sure of the reason why himself. Neither of them seem that interested, anyway.
Kakashi tilts his head up from the green-covered book and eyes Yamato's coffee. "I'm not paying for that one," he says mildly. "It was a one-time offer."
Ouch. "I already paid for it," Yamato says, a little put out that Kakashi thinks he only came back for the free drink.
Shizune sighs from opposite them. "Don't worry," she says, resting her chin in her hands. "It's nothing personal. Kakashi's just a huge cheapskate, he does this to everyone." The corners of her mouth twitch up. "Especially people he likes."
Yamato wants to ask her exactly what that means, but at that moment a fairly large crowd of people drifts into the courtyard, rapidly dispersing towards the coffee stand and the paths to the rest of the mall, and Kakashi and Shizune begin rapidly exchanging ratings before their new targets move out of view.
While they're occupied, Yamato sips his coffee and studies the worn cover on Kakashi's book, finally discarded in favour of the flurry of numbers he's spouting quietly at Shizune. The words 'Makeout Tactics' are emblazoned across the top. Whether it's an instructional manual or a badly-titled trashy novel, Yamato cannot discern, though he suspects the latter.
When the last of the crowd disappears from sight in the direction of the car-park, Shizune relaxes back into her seat with another tiny sigh. "There was a nine," she says happily.
"Eight," says Kakashi, picking up his novel again.
"Nine," Shizune counters.
"Eight."
"That's pretty high," Yamato observes, interrupting the back and forth. "Do you see many people who rate... up there?"
It is again quite unnerving to have all of Kakashi's attention refocus on him in the space of a single breath. Flattering, but unnerving. "Not many," Kakashi says.
"I used to go out with a guy who was a nine," Shizune says dreamily. "He had to move overseas for work eventually. One of my other exes was a ten, though. She had these gorgeous red eyes - I think they might have been contacts, but she never took them out." She droops a bit. "She married someone else. It was probably for the best."
Yamato swallows a bitter mouthful from his cup. He's nearly out of coffee. "Oh," he says awkwardly.
There is an uncomfortable pause.
"Sorry," Shizune says, giggling nervously. "I didn't - um. You don't care about my old exes. Sorry."
Yamato tries to smile reassuringly. "No, it's fine."
"It's kinda nice to talk to someone who isn't Kakashi for once," she adds, ignoring Kakashi's quiet protest. "He's heard all about this stuff already."
"Twice," Kakashi mutters to Yamato. He sniffs and turns a page in his book, brushing white hair away from his covered eye in the process and giving Yamato a good look at it for the first time.
Oh, wow.
He tries not to stare, but he can see why Kakashi keeps it covered. It's red, not a dull inflamed red but a bright and unnatural crimson that stands out against the white of the eye. There's a thin scar running through Kakashi's silvery eyebrow to somewhere beneath his scarf, too.
Who is this guy?
Shizune must have noticed too, because she leans across and taps the top of 'Makeout Tactics' lightly. "Your eye," she murmurs.
"Hmm? Oh." Kakashi blinks twice swiftly and puts the book down on the table again. He turns to Yamato. "Acquired heterochromia," he says, pointing at the red eye. "From an - accident I was involved in. You may have heard of the condition."
"I have," Yamato says slowly, watching Kakashi run his pointing finger over the scar. "I didn't know heterochromia could turn eyes that colour, though."
Are there other scars under the scarf? He didn't see enough the other day to be sure.
Almost without thinking, Yamato reaches out with the hand not wrapped around his cup and touches the pale line on Kakashi's face, gently tracing it with his fingertip as Kakashi had a few moments ago. He stops at the edge of the scarf, and suddenly realises exactly what he's doing.
"Wow," Shizune says, grinning. Yamato snatches his hand back, fighting down the urge to jump up and sprint away.
Kakashi, thankfully, just looks amused.
"Um," Yamato says nervously. He goes to take a gulp of coffee to hide his own face, but the cup is horribly empty all of a sudden. "I -"
The digital display on the wall that he can see over Shizune's shoulder changes; one number flickers out of existence and is replaced by another, marking five minutes after he had planned to leave.
"I actually need to go," he finishes, substituting for whatever he'd been about to babble out.
"Sure," Kakashi says. He pulls some hair down to cover his eye and scar again, and smiles at Yamato. Shizune widens her own grin. "See you next time."
Next time, Yamato thinks furiously, ignoring entirely the part of his brain that questions why he's even thinking about another 'next time', he's going to make absolutely sure that he manages to leave both on time and without embarrassing himself horrifically.