Hello all! This is a collaborative story between myself and my lovely friend Cord-chan (demondreams on LJ) that all started from a half-finished drawing and an email conversation. It's grown into quite the monster now.

Betas of doom: Demondreams, Micah_n10, Ookami_Kasumi and Fieryredqueen.

Some notes: This is slightly-AU concerning events after the timeskip. If you see where I diverged, bravo, if not, trust me, it's not that important. This is pre-slash thus far, though there will be some points leading toward this.

On with the story and please enjoy our humble offerings.

Prologue

Blood sprayed in a satisfying pattern on the white screens of the guesthouse. It was almost a pretty contrast, the fan of white and red and pink bits of gore from where the blunted ceremonial sword had literally ripped bits of his throat away.

He watched coldly as the body slumped over, like a marionette with its strings cut. His rage had drained away, leaving only numbness behind in its place.

The heavy blade dropped to rest in a pool of spreading crimson, and numb fingers lost their grip on the object he had been clutching in his other hand. The metal plate on the headband clunked dully against the polished wood of the floor, sliding in the blood to rest next to the cooling body. Moonlight reflected off the engraved leaf symbol centered on the thin piece of metal.

Shaking, he broke and ran, hands stained with blood.

Iruka found his fingernails digging gouges in the wood of his desk at the memory of that insufferable, annoying, stuck-up, half-witted prig who had graced the better part of his morning with his aggravating and none too welcome presence. Insufferable nobles, with more hair than brains. He'd been playing host to Makimura, the decidedly unpleasant heir to the Daimyo of the Land of Rice. Because of his high clearance and inoffensive manner, he had been chosen to escort the asshat around Konoha.

Makimura had let it be known that he was highly offended by being assigned a mere chuunin schoolteacher as his guide. And let it be known. Loudly. And in no uncertain terms. By the end of the first hour, Anko and Genma, both of whom had been assigned as guards for the Daimyo's party, had started taking bets on just how long Iruka's rather infamous temper would stay under control.

He'd held onto control, tooth and nail, for far longer than they anticipated, but when Iruka's considerable temper broke, it went with a vengeance. Iruka and the others had been escorting the now beyond insufferable Makimura to yet another restaurant, when a small girl from one of Iruka's classes darted out to greet the chuunin, smiling brightly and offering a handful of bedraggled flowers to her teacher. "Iruka-sensei!"

She had brushed past Makimura in her rush to greet Iruka, and the Daimyo's heir had flinched from her, kicking out with one of his embroidered slippers. "Get away from me, you filthy little wretch!"

If she had been a year older, and starting the taijutsu training that would be required, she could have dodged the blow. But she was still too young and uncoordinated to avoid the kick, and the force of it sent her sprawling into the dust of the road, her handful of tattered flowers flying everywhere. For an instant, the whole street had seemed to freeze as little Sora wailed, clutching her scraped knee and oblivious to the horse-cart trundling up behind her.

There had been no room to hesitate and less to think as Iruka dived to scoop up the little girl and pull her away from the hooves of the frightened, eye-rolling horse. For a few minutes, everything had been utter confusion as the driver sawed on the reins to halt the horse, and Iruka had ducked and rolled away from the rearing gelding. He'd felt a pawing hoof glance off his shoulder, but the pain was the least of his concerns. He'd staggered back to his feet, grateful when Anko's supporting hand had materialized under his elbow to steady him. Iruka sighed and let the adrenaline drain away as the danger had passed.

Sora wailed and buried her head in his vest, and he had quite the time soothing her tears, but he had managed to coax a smile from her again as he'd deftly bandaged her knee. She was even giving him a teary giggle or two as Genma handed back his fallen hiate'ate. By this time, her frantic father had managed to make his way through the crowd, gratefully babbling thanks as Iruka handed her back with a smile. Only then, when the other young chuunin and his daughter had faded back into the crowd, did he turn on the young lord, with a plastic smile fixed firmly on his face. Genma and Anko had both shuddered at the look in his rich coffee-colored eyes and reached for their weapons.

He'd stalked up to the young lord, every muscle tense. "What the hell did you think you were doing? She was just a little girl!"

Makimura looked down his aquiline nose at the shorter man and had huffed impatiently. "She's a peasant, and hardly worth the time and effort." He said superciliously.

Iruka had seen red. He'd never been so furious in all his life as he was when he drew himself up to his full height and hissed viciously in Makimura's arrogant face.

"Makimura-sama, I have been polite when you put me down for being a know-nothing schoolteacher, I said nothing when you degraded our Hokage's reception and hospitality, and I deigned to look the other way when you insulted not only my friends here, but every single place we have taken you to…" His voice had risen as he pointed, first at Anko and Genma and then at the bustling marketplace around them. "But I will be damned if you lay a hand on another defenseless child!"

He'd stepped forward until he was nose to nose with the spoiled, petulant lord and glared at him, radiating spikes of angry chakra. He'd known he was giving off killing intent, but this whiny little shit deserved it for what he'd done. "You are a useless lump of wasted meat, and I will personally see to it you never harm another child again, you arrogant, useless bastard!"

He knew he had overdone the killing rage when the acrid scent of urine seared his nostrils. The stupid prick had wet himself. Iruka had wrinkled his nose in distaste and stepped back from the fool. "Anko, Genma; would you be so kind as to escort the lord here," There'd been no mistaking the disdain and contempt in his voice on the last two words. "—back to his guest quarters to clean up. He seems to have had a minor accident. I'm late for my shift at the mission room." He'd turned away, but paused and looked back viciously. "Be assured that I will speak with Tsunade-sama about this and she'll see to it that you receive a new guide for the remainder of your stay in Konoha, and I assure you, they will be far less congenial than I."

Iruka had walked away, seething, and mentally reminded himself that he would see if Ibiki was up for giving the spoiled idiot a lovely tour of the torture and interrogation chambers.

It was late when he finally left the mission room. (As usual, Kakashi-sensei had put off turning in his Mission Report until the very last minute.) Iruka rolled his head to work a kink out of his neck and decided he was for a long soak in the bathtub and then bed. His shoulder was throbbing dully from the glancing blow the horse had given him this afternoon and he was bone-tired. He had no appetite for food, and thankfully, the mission room had been slow enough that he could get his grading done for Monday, when hopefully the daimyo and his entourage would be heading back to their Land.

He allowed himself a smile as he remembered the scathing report he'd given Tsunade on the brat's behavior and his recommendation for his replacement. Tsunade had laughed and smiled behind her cup of tea and agreed that Makimura would indeed benefit from an instructive tour of Ibiki's territory. Of course, by the time he had gotten back to the desk, news of his confrontation was all over the mission room and he had received several congratulatory slaps on the back by others who had been forced to deal with the idiot Makimura.

He was still smiling when he crawled into bed an hour later, after soaking the day's irritations away. He settled back against his pillows with a sigh after rubbing liniment into the black and purple bruise gracing his shoulder.

Makimura was no longer going to be his concern after tomorrow. He grinned and turned off the light.

Iruka woke abruptly, aware that he was not longer alone, and stopped his reflexive grab for his kunai when he recognized the bone-pale mask watching him in the dim light of pre-dawn. "ANBU-san." He acknowledged; feeling bile burn in his throat as saw another masked ANBU behind the first, this one carrying special Chakra-draining restraints.

"The Hokage demands your presence, Umino Iruka. You stand accused of the murder of Hanishi Makimura."