When it came down to it, Iruka-sensei was dead.
He was, of course, old, but not really old enough to actually qualify being old. In his forties, at least, but still, that wasn't exactly old enough to die having lived a full life.
Sasuke sighed, sprawling over his circular bed, funeral notice in his hand. He hadn't visited his old school far at least ten years. Hadn't seen much of his classmates or modeling team in that long either.
So why should he go to the wake and funeral of his former instructor, especially since he had never been particularly close to the man?
He sat up, cell phone in hand, heart set on a definite "NO." But his eyes caught the cover of a magazine, and the familiar face that adorned its cover made him realize a few things:
1) He didn't know who to call to offer condolences and an excuse not to go.
2) Although he didn't have a reason why he SHOULD go, he didn't exactly have a good reason why he SHOULDN'T go.
3) It had been awhile since he had seen his old team.
4) The more he thought about it, the more he realized how tired he was. Endless appointments, shoots, commercials, paparazzi... suddenly, the fact that an opportunity to rest was dangling in front of him became apparent.
The pros gained an upper hand over the cons.
He sighed heavily, made a few calls, and prepared for his unexpected trip.
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So precisely nine hours, forty five minutes, and six seconds later, world famous model Uchiha Sasuke found himself standing before the aged gates of the prestigious Konohagakure Modeling School.
As the taxi retreated from the vast and heavily forested school grounds, he vaguely wondered what on earth he was doing back.
But the dust settled, the cab was gone, and he was stuck between his Alma Mater and the middle of nowhere.
That still didn't make his choice come any easier.
Holding his breath, he pushed the heavy wooden doors, and stepped into forever.
He was, of course, old, but not really old enough to actually qualify being old. In his forties, at least, but still, that wasn't exactly old enough to die having lived a full life.
Sasuke sighed, sprawling over his circular bed, funeral notice in his hand. He hadn't visited his old school far at least ten years. Hadn't seen much of his classmates or modeling team in that long either.
So why should he go to the wake and funeral of his former instructor, especially since he had never been particularly close to the man?
He sat up, cell phone in hand, heart set on a definite "NO." But his eyes caught the cover of a magazine, and the familiar face that adorned its cover made him realize a few things:
1) He didn't know who to call to offer condolences and an excuse not to go.
2) Although he didn't have a reason why he SHOULD go, he didn't exactly have a good reason why he SHOULDN'T go.
3) It had been awhile since he had seen his old team.
4) The more he thought about it, the more he realized how tired he was. Endless appointments, shoots, commercials, paparazzi... suddenly, the fact that an opportunity to rest was dangling in front of him became apparent.
The pros gained an upper hand over the cons.
He sighed heavily, made a few calls, and prepared for his unexpected trip.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So precisely nine hours, forty five minutes, and six seconds later, world famous model Uchiha Sasuke found himself standing before the aged gates of the prestigious Konohagakure Modeling School.
As the taxi retreated from the vast and heavily forested school grounds, he vaguely wondered what on earth he was doing back.
But the dust settled, the cab was gone, and he was stuck between his Alma Mater and the middle of nowhere.
That still didn't make his choice come any easier.
Holding his breath, he pushed the heavy wooden doors, and stepped into forever.