'Till the edge of the world
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He knows what this room looks like by heart since the time he comes. He knows by heart the pale green walls, with the posters fading with the passing years between the cupboards of whitened wood - the poster for , the one displaying the human's muscles, and the one in front of the door, a black and white view of the Fuji-Yama.
He can almost see himself sitting on the examination table in the white tiles of the floor.
Little to no noise or sound. It's probably a constant from doctors' offices and hospitals - every single one he's seen were like this. Like an impression of suspended time. Only the scenery behind the window indicates that time still flows.
The floor is cold under his feet. It doesn't bother him.
The door opens. He doesn't lift his head from his unconscious contemplation of the dust dancing in the ray of sun dying at his feet. There's a sound of put down papers, footsteps coming to him. And stop, just before the dust freely floating.
The person in front of him crouches to see him better, hidden as he is by his hair hanging like curtains on each side of his lowered face. The medic. He knows her well - since his birth, to be exact. She had birthed him, his mother had had complete trust in her, much more than in the medic-nin at the central hospital.
She raises her glasses with a finger, her eyes clouded with worry and concern behind the glass, frowning slightly.
She puts a hand on his jean covered knee, a large, warm hand, a mother's hand. He still stares straight in front of him. She sighs.
"Iruka..."
The light coming from outside reflects on the floor, illuminating the room, nearly blinding.
"Since when did you stop taking your medicaments?"
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He hadn't take his post at the Academy. A new teacher had took his former place.
He had volunteered to work full time at the mission office, and anything going along with - classifying, filing reports, giving the proper rank to missions and giving them to the right people. All that often implied to stay buried under stacks of paper in an office. Few people thought it was an important job; the others were wrong. He was giving everyday from ten to fifty missions, and received just as many - and from his upstream work depended as many lives.
He dove completely into his responsibilities. When thinking about other people, he didn't had to think about himself.
His friends at the office had looked at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head when he had said he was now working full time there. And then Genma had vigorously patted him on the back while laughing and saying those blasted brats had finally put his brain upside down - but that it was good that he was now staying away from them. The others had finally followed. The people in the office had joined the general hilarity.
In a corner, pretending to read his book, Kakashi had recorded everything of the scene, without taking any part in it.
When they had met later in the evening, Kakashi hadn't asked him anything. His moves had spoken for themselves.
Iruka had just answered to his moves by others. He hadn't said anything.
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"Two weeks."
"I suppose it's a lost battle that to try to make you come back on your decision..."
"I choose. I... This is better than to undergo."
"But if you carried on with the treatment, you could..."
"No. Never. I refuse to become a dead weight."
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Kakashi and him were often meeting at night, at one or the other's place ; even if Kakashi expressed his preference for Iruka's - something to do with it 'looking more like a home than mine'.
It was okay with him.
They weren't the best kept secret in the village, there was weirder stuff going on, but they preferred discretion and tranquility.
He was happy to see the other man, even more happy to have him just for himself at night. He was trying not to think further. They were both trying. 'Friends with benefices' was all they could afford.
It was okay with him.
And then, Kakashi was rarely there when Iruka was waking up. Hatake had rarely regular schedules and days off.
It was okay with him. It meant that Kakashi had less chances to fall on the boxes under the sink in the bathroom, or on the prescription papers safely tucked between rations boxes.
Anyway, he had thrown everything out now.
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"It's not becoming a dead weight! It's having some more time left - think of the ones you're going to left behind... What's Naruto going to say? Your friends? Kakashi?"
"They know nothing, and don't tell them anything. To anyone."
"..."
"Please. It's not an hindrance to my job, no-one need to know."
"... Okay."
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He didn't really knew how it had began. Maybe with one too many drinks at Anko's birthday - at least it was how they had ended up in the same bed. What had began as a one night thing had turned into something more.
Sometimes, Iruka was wondering what Kakashi was thinking about their relation. If he was really paying attention to him. And, if yes, how come he had never noticed the treatment.
And then one night Kakashi would come back with a lost child look, and seemed to come back to himself only between Iruka's arms. And then Kakashi would look at him for hours while he was thinking Iruka was sleeping. Then Iruka was telling himself he just didn't want to voice the question.
He didn't knew how the other thing had began too. It's safer to say he didn't want to remind himself.
He had lost more weight those last two years than in his whole life. His colleagues blamed it on stress and worry, and who was better informed on stress and worry than the ninja in the village? It was true that the missions were pilling up and that demands only seemed to increase - and also that Kakashi was more often out of the village than in. Outside and on missions no-one sane would have want.
He would have preferred it was because of all that. Stress and worry weren't making him take more pills and drugs than he cared to count. Stress and worry weren't cutting his appetite to the point he had to throw out the content of his fridge which had found a life of his own in the time it had been forgotten. Stress and worry weren't making him visit more often than his empty stomach could endure the staff toilet in the Hokage's Tower. Luckily for him that they were seldom used. Stress and worry weren't making him loose control over his limbs to shaking crisis. He didn't knew if it was a blessing or a curse that no-one found him at times like this.
He wasn't sure he could bear the pitying looks and the sympathy manifestations from the others if they knew.
He wasn't sure he could bear the automatic dismissal if they knew.
Because he knew one thing; that waiting without be able to do anything was the easier way for him to go insane.
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"How long?"
"Huh?"
"How long?"
"... seeing today's results, without treatment... six months at the best."
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He ties his hair back without hurry, before putting his shoes back and shrugging on his jacket waiting on the nearby chair. He nods to the medic, and leaves the office without another look, his bag on his shoulder.
He's going to go back home, without hurry, as if he was coming back from a walk. People are going to salute him in the street and he's going to answer to their waves with a smile as he uses to, talking a bit with parents of formers students, giving back a stray ball to kids, laughing to a cutting remark coming from a ninja on his way back to the Tower.
He's going to walk in the streets and the sign between the korean restaurant and the news-vendor will still be askew, the mobile cakes vendor will still be at his place under the tree two streets after Ichiraku, the old man will still be hunched over his precious ramen bowls at the Ichiraku, replying by a smile to the hello of one of his best customer.
He's going to go back home and the Academy will still be at the same place on the way, the tree and the swing still there too. He's going to stroll a bit in the streets before going inside and prepare dinner, hoping that Kakashi will be there today, gone for over two weeks as he had been, the monument and its carved faces towering impassively over the village darkened by the coming night.
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He arrives in front of his door, and it's already unlocked. The entry is always a bit dark, even when the light is on in the main room as it is now. A glance is enough and he stays here standing, not even thinking about sitting on the step to leave his shoes and stepping further in.
The couch in front of the entry is occupied. His mask is down for once, but as always he's wearing his uniform. He leaves his hitae-ate on the piece of furniture in the entry when he's there, and today's not exception.
"Iruka..."
And at this word, this simple word, Iruka knows the answer to the question he never asked. That he never asked and will never ask because know he knows, stripped bare in front of this lost child look in the face of a man who has never been a child.
In his hands, Kakashi holds an empty medicament box Iruka forgot.
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the end
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musical background for the translation : Marko Djurdjevic's DVD Character Ideation.