Alarmed

There was distant screaming and dull booms but Iruka was not alarmed. He may be six and where his house had been only moments before there was only smoking rubble and he didn't know where his parents where but he was not alarmed. His neighbors face was inches away from his own, smoke curling up and around her face like a frame for a picture. There was a big bloody wound on the left side of her forehead and in the middle of that wound Iruka thought he could see white. Her grey eyes were wide open and glazed over and she wasn't blinking, wasn't breathing, wasn't smiling at Iruka and giving him a piece of hard candy and asking him how his day at school had been and telling him to say hi to his parents from her. But Iruka was not alarmed.

He was dimly aware that he was lying on his side, was dimly aware that left arm felt numb, was dimly aware that only moments ago that the sky had been blue but now it was covered in dark ominous clouds and-

And then there was a loud animalistic roar that was somehow so terrifying, so utterly horrible, that Iruka just froze, just stopped breathing. His heart skipped a beat and he was overcome with fear. But then it was over and he could hear other sounds again, mainly his ears ringing and breath shuddering and heart jittering, but that was better than whatever the heck that had been.

Iruka focused on keeping not being alarmed. His neighbor, the nice old lady who always gave him some cookies when she made some, continued not breathing. People in the distant kept right on screaming.

Iruka was not alarmed. He was calm, composed, in control; the three C's to always remember in confusing and dangerous situations. Be Calm, be Composed, and be in Control.

Everything was going to be fine. That awful roaring was far, far away and wouldn't hurt him, oh no, wouldn't hurt him (it sounded big, it could probably get to where Iruka was in three gigantic footsteps, if Iruka raised his head and looked he would probably see the monster towering over Konoha, tearing it apart with ease and remember the three C's), Iruka was pretty sure he was safe. He was pretty sure everything was going to be fine. Before the day was over their house would be back up and Mrs. Suzuki wouldn't have that red and white wound and mommy and daddy would be back and smiling and (Iruka had never heard his parents scream, they were brave ninja, they didn't scream, but Iruka had seen one of daddy's friends running by earlier, a supposedly brave ninja like them, screaming his head off, not sparing a thought to the kid laying prone on the ground that he knew, and he didn't know what his parent's screams sounded like, that could be them screaming in the distance, his parents, brave ninjas, could be screaming, terrified out of their minds, and that shouldn't be possible, it shouldn't be, parents didn't scream or be afraid, it wasn't just that they were brave ninjas, they were parents and parents shouldn't scream, the mere thought was unbelievable, but then again in the wake of the horrifying indescribable roar of that thing every horrible little thing in the world seemed plausible, all the bad things were possible, monsters under the bed were real when that thing roared, in a universe where something like that existed so could screaming frightened parents and wasn't that an awful realization to have, especially for a six year old that didn't know what the fuck was going on in the first place) Iruka was not alarmed.

Throughout the whole thing Iruka did not once join the chorus of panicked screams, not once did he cry, and not once did he look up and see what was making that awful roaring sound. In a few months when things were getting back on track and Iruka's parents and Mrs. Suzuki were six feet under and pushing daisies, when Iruka was living in an orphanage and there was a new house where his had once been that looked nothing like the old one, when Iruka was back in school and Konoha could start caring about what sort of psychological impact this may have had on the children of Konoha, their future, six months later in other words, the class was visited by a therapist.

The therapists' name was Mr. Sato but he asked for them to all call him Tsubaki. Iruka had thought that was just a girls name but apparently boys could have it too and that was just fine. Iruka wasn't the sort of kid who picked people about their names. He might be a prankster and he might be the class clown and he might crave attention with an intense need that was a little frightening if you stepped back and looked (but no one ever did), but he was not a bully. He was never a bully.

Instead of having a normal school day they all instead read in their history books as Mr. Sato call-me-Tsubaki took out one of them at a time, each for a different time span, ranging from an hour or more to ten minutes or less. They had Ms. Watanabe that day (his mother used to call her an old spinster and then giggled impishly and told him not to tell anyone she said that but she couldn't giggle anymore now could she, what with her mouth full of dirt and worms, haha, there had been so many deaths that barely anyone had been allowed the luxury of a coffin so they had just taken his parents and dumped them in a hole but he should be grateful, most had just been burned in a big pile, most had not even been found, haha) and Ms. Watanabe was a grumpy woman who tolerated no speaking in her class unless a hand had been raised first, so no one got to know what the therapist talked about before it was their turn.

About halfway through it was Iruka's turn and he was directed to another empty classroom (there were a lot of empty classrooms now, a lot less kids than there had been before haha, it wasn't funny though, Iruka laughed a lot more than before but nothing was actually funny anymore) and he sat in a chair (the kid whose chair this used to be is dead now, he thought absentmindedly, he had a lot of those thoughts nowadays, he had them all day, all the time) across from a desk where Tsubaki sat (the teacher whose desk that used to be is dead now).

Tsubaki smiled gently and held up a clipboard.

"Iruka, right?"

"That's my name, don't wear it out!" Iruka said cheerfully.

Tsubaki chuckled (Iruka's father used to chuckle a lot, he was a happy man married to a woman who liked to tell jokes, not that she could tell a whole lot more jokes now, not that he could chuckle a whole lot more now, because, as he'd remarked upon inside his head before, dirt and worms, dirt and worms).

"A joker, I like that." He said and smiled (dirt and worms, dirt and worms)

"So, let's cut to the chase. I'm here to see who's a little more… affected by the Kyuubi attacks than the others. Both your parents died didn't they?" and now his tone was concerned and gentle, like he was walking on eggshells here. Iruka had noticed the red and puffy eyes of some of the students who came back after their talk. He probably expected Iruka to burst into tears at the mere mention of the word parents.

"Don't worry Tsubaki! I'm not gonna break and cry on ya." Iruka assured him with a big grin.

Tsubaki relaxed and nodded. He asked some more questions and in the end Iruka was in there for a total of five minutes, one of the shortest amounts of time spent there.

Later Tsubaki wrote a report on each of the students and what he thought of their mental state and whether or not they should have further therapy sessions.

This was what Iruka's report said:

Will almost certainly not need further therapy. Seems to be taking the loss of his parents with good humor and behavior. When asked of what he felt during the attack he said "I was not alarmed."

A very mature way to handle a disaster for a six year old.

Iruka Umino: Mentally stable

Thanks to A Tale of Brothers for helping me come up with a title name! So I tried to see how long I could hold out without having a fic to write. Turns out I managed to last a whole 24 hours. Wow. Haha, and I who had been looking forwards to some relaxation too! Ah, whatever. Anyway, please review!