A/N: In my want to avoid original characters, I checked up some obscure chuunin characters and used their names, appearances, and worked as much as I could from their scant information to provide a believable, tangible personality. And then I realized they went sort of into OC-land anyway. *Sigh*. I tried, I really did.
Disclaimer: I play with the characters and the setting, but I have no rights, nor do I make profit from this.
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The Academy was usually known for its noise; after all, it was partly a school, partly a day-care centre, and played host to some of the most mentally unstable children the village had to offer. And jounin thought they had their work cut out killing people. Not turning murderous when faced day in-and-out with little rug-rats intent on destroying all order into a mess of unrecognisable chaos required a patience that could stretch across continents.
Anyway, the usually exuberant school yard was silent with a blanket ban on noise. The students, having just been taught rudimentary field shorthand, were given the task of not talking for the rest of the day, instead working on the sign language to better prepare them for the real world. The teachers congratulated whoever had put that particular detail on the curriculum so long ago, because it was one of the few times in the year when the students would willingly fall silent during their classes and lunches.
If only it would last all the time, Iruka mused to himself as he walked around the grounds, correcting students here and there, especially when he noticed rather large gaps in correct grammar. Iruka had once heard of a mission where the cell-captain had given the orders to kill without question, but had slipped on one of the end signs and changed the order to question without kills. The orders were followed without hesitation, and half the squad was slaughtered for the leader's mistake. On his watch, Iruka swore he wouldn't let his students die for something so trivial.
When he was fairly certain that the kids weren't wholly incompetent in their grasp of field shorthand, and when he noticed some of the more confident students were helping the others, Iruka moved quickly to the Academy's staff room to eat a hurried lunch. He went to the effort of packing a nice lunch for today, and he fully intended on enjoying it. Especially since making the lunch made him miss out on his early morning tea which started his day off on a bad, grumpy note; one which his students thankfully noted and acted accordingly.
Upon entering the teacher's lounge, he was accosted by the level of noise, which—after being in the presence of dead silence for several hours—seemed unnaturally obscene. Everyone noticed his entry; they were trained chuunin, after all; but none moved in surprise or agitation at his appearance, in fact acting like there'd been no disturbance at all, so he moved to one of the unoccupied chairs, uncomfortable with their hard, wooden backs, and sat down to eat. Most of the other teachers were more pre-occupied with their conversations than their lunch, so Iruka dined alone.
As Iruka was halfway done eating the lightly steamed fish that was cold and tangy with soy sauce, Hijiri Shimon quietly sidled up from a window and took up the once-empty space beside him.
Iruka didn't mind the man's company; a few people were irked by the way he carried a slightly odd accent, emphasising the odd vowel in a not unpleasant way, and his occasional use of strange words that touched on overly formal. It reminded them of how Hijiri's family came from another village – not another ninja village, simply another civilian village from on the borders of Fire Country. It was different and therefore treated with automatic suspicion.
However, Iruka respected the man for his strength – he walked with a firm gait, yet when no one was looking, the chuunin was sure he'd seen his co-worker limp from an old injury. That, and he'd never let the whispers get to him. Iruka wondered how he'd fare if his family were foreigner to Konoha and if he were constantly questioned over it. Certainly his outlook on life would be a little more cynical.
Pale as ever, eyes seemingly forever hidden by bangs far too long, Shimon was something of a constant to Iruka. Although they were of similar ages, the other had joined the Academy first and was by default his superior. Of course, now they'd been working alongside each other for many years, but Iruka still grew amazed by the level of deference Shimon had over his own class. Then again, Iruka usually got the short straw and was stuck with the troublesome children; the geniuses, the vengeful, the especially eccentric—and even the demon-host.
"Umino," said the lanky chuunin as way of greeting, stretching his thin and long arms above his head, grinning as his spine cracked a few times with the contortion. "Why are you sitting all by yourself?"
"Because I'm eating and no one else is," Iruka answered with a shrug, taking another bite of his meal, wishing he'd added more fish to the box. Soon he'd have all rice and no sides and it'd be a plain meal indeed.
"That's quite the travesty, Umino," Hijiri hummed as he pulled a small flask from his vest and drank deeply from it. Iruka could smell the scent of herbal tea coming from it; the man knew better than to carry in alcohol to a pre-genin school, let alone drink it here. "I can't let this pass unnoticed; so I'm afraid you'll just have to suffer my company for a while."
Smiling and shaking his head, Iruka replied, "Don't you normally harass the trainee at this point?" His chopsticks were absentmindedly messing the rice around his bento box as he talked.
"Do you mean Mozuku? Me, harass him? Never," Shimon stressed in that overly innocent way that simply screamed incrimination. "I am offended by the accusation! Anyway, he's on ground duties at the moment." Other teachers who were half-listening to their conversation laughed at that comment—even if they weren't entirely warm towards Shimon, it was hard to favour the new chuunin-teacher.
Mozuku was a dull eyed, fresh chuunin graduate, just touching 19 years of age. Pale as Shimon, they could pass for brothers, but once you took away Mozuku's glasses, you would see how his bright blue eyes could never match Shimon's rarely seen dark brown ones. If you were ever to see Mozuku without his forehead protector wrapped around his skull in a snug bandana, then his early on-set baldness contradicted heavily with Shimon's long locks of russet brown.
Not to mention, as kind as Shimon normally was, Mozuku usually came off abrasive and bitter. As a student-teacher at the Academy, he was rather hot-headed and seemed to dislike children. Scrupulous about rules, the uptight attitude lost him a lot of points from the other adults at the Academy.
Anko had once mentioned going on a mission with the young man before—more like the words had slipped her radar and past her notice to care. Iruka strongly suspected Mozuku was a member of ANBU or would soon be. No normal chuunin went on the missions Anko took.
"I hear I'm going to get a trainee next year," Iruka commented after a hearty chuckle that painted a wide smile on his face, bunching his scar up at the ends.
"Oh, apparently you're getting a Nara."
"Shikamaru?" There was an affirmative nod. Shimon wasn't widely liked, but he had connections in the right places and seemed to know things a while ahead of time. "He'd a good lad; I taught him as a pre-genin."
"You've got your work set out for you though," Shimon said with a touch of sympathy sent his way. "Teachers need to be prepared to run after students. I can't see any Nara running for anything other than a zone-red crisis."
"I don't disagree," admitted Iruka as he pushed his empty lunchbox from him, leaning back in his chair, "but Shikamaru's smart. He'd probably rig traps to keep them from getting too far."
"If only the Third didn't ban that," sighed Shimon wistfully; "we'd still be doing it otherwise."
Iruka laughed as the door burst open with an angry bang. Mozuku stormed in with purple paint splatters down his crisp, ironed uniform and shaking hands that kept twitching at his weapons holster strapped to his thigh, instead moving to wipe the still wet paint from his glasses with a clean patch of fabric.
"What the heck happened to you?" one of the teachers finally asked, breaking the curious, cautious silence following the young chuunin's appearance.
Nothing was said in response, and Shimon eyed the man warily; after judging that the killing intent was getting reigned in and strongly muted, he nodded. Turning to Iruka, he commented under his breath, "Shimon has this nasty habit of signing insults to students to keep from screaming at them."
Raising an eyebrow, Iruka said casually, "Mozuku, didn't anyone tell you that we taught the children rudimentary field shorthand, or were you too above everyone else to read and memorize the curriculum?"
Patches of faint pink bloomed on the skin that wasn't stained purple and the teachers chuckled. Instead of the blowout some of the adults were expecting, Mozuku replaced his glasses and smiled—he actually formed a natural smile and said modestly, "I suppose I earned that one."
"Children are bastards, the lot of 'em," remarked one of the older chuunin. "No wonder parents shirk 'em off to us."
Finally the babble of conversation flowed once more around the room and no one ran further commentary about Mozuku's misfortunes. Iruka smiled and waved over the chuunin—clapping him on the back as Shimon lazily offered him a swig of some herbal tea from his flask; laughing when he asked for something far, far stronger.
Being humiliated and humbled by children was a rite of passage for the Academy teachers. Whilst Mozuku would no doubt continue being a trite bastard for the most part, the brat was one of them now.
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"Run around a kunai, a pocket full of sharp knives—a cut here, a cut there; we all fall down!"
The children left the Academy laughing and singing a twisted rendition of the old nursery rhyme 'Ring a-round a-rosie'. Iruka smiled though, even though the song was as morbid as hell, it showed the kids were still naive enough to play. It was when they wouldn't sing and laugh when he would begin to worry; and then later steel himself against their changed personality. The career path of a ninja did that to children.
Iruka was swiftly packing his things away, with an efficiency that belied habit. When he felt a chakra flare at the door—the ninja version of a knock—Iruka didn't look up, merely saying, "Give me a minute." There was another flare of chakra, a touch more irritated if you could judge by the added spark at the points.
Stowing away graded papers and a stack of test questionnaires for the next lesson, Iruka slung over his head a infinitely light work bag and looked up to see Hagane Kotetsu leaning against the doorframe, foot tapping impatiently on the floor as he waited for Iruka to finish.
Kotetsu looked like he always did; albeit his hair was a little shorter and the spikes a little more curved after a small mishap with a fire jutsu. Thankfully hair grew back quick—the trees that burned down would take perhaps a decade to return to their former glory. The bandage around his nose and cheeks was changed from its atypical white cloth to a soft baby blue for the occasion, Iruka noticed.
"Ready?" he asked hurriedly, moving toward the window to make a traditional exit before Iruka tugged at his arm and moved him back to the door with a laugh.
"He's not going to run away in the ten minutes you've been gone," reasoned Iruka calmly as they walked; Kotetsu an impatient two steps ahead. "You know that, right?"
"It's Izumo's birthday; I want it to be special."
"Is that why I'm going?"
"Ha ha, aren't you the comedian tonight?" the man said bluntly. Kotetsu normally would've been the one laughing at the poor, fretting soul, so Iruka couldn't help but twist his arm a bit – figuratively, of course.
"Well, I aim to please," Iruka said as he shrugged the bag on his shoulder a little more comfortably.
"I hate you so much right now," Kotetsu grumbled under his breath.
"Isn't Izumo meant to be the thoughtful one of the two of you?" Iruka queried lightly with a shadow of a smile he knew would irk the other man to no end.
"Screw you, Umino!" exclaimed Kotetsu with a huff. "I can make an effort if I want to. Unlike some anti-social people."
"Oh, I'm not anti-social," the shorter chuunin replied smoothly, "I just hate you."
"Thanks—you're too kind." Voice dripping with sarcasm, Kotetsu hurried his pace and seemed a little annoyed when Iruka kept in step without any trouble.
"Some of us have to make Hidden Leaf look good, you know."
"Thankfully they have me, then."
Iruka snorted and received a playful shove to his shoulder as they left the Academy. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky as they walked down the beaten track of the marketplace. Hagane was asking whether Iruka how he was faring being a dull paper-pusher to which Umino countered by asking Kotetsu how he enjoyed being the lapdog of Lady Tsunade. Their carefree teasing and laughter rang through the stalls of the market.
Their relationship had always been like that – ever since they fought against each other in their chuunin exams (and Iruka lost), they played the game of like and hate. Izumo had often had to act as a buffer between the two when their arguments breeched that of the friendly realm and weapons were drawn out. Yet even with all that, they had a deep comradely connection between them. Not that either man would ever admit to that.
By the time they reached the main gates, Izumo was signing off his shift to a pair of fresh-eyed chuunin—and when he saw Iruka and Kotetsu he laughed and grinned with teeth. His fringe that covered one side of his face was a fair bit shorter too, but that was because Kotetsu somehow got glue in that a few weeks back and it needed to be cut out. Iruka was still slightly paranoid that his ponytail was next in line to be hit by the wrath of Kotetsu; but thankfully the man had a short attention span.
"Happy birthday, you sorry bastard," Kotetsu slapped the other man merrily on his back. Izumo slapped away the other's hand when Hagane tried to rip off his forehead protector that worked as a bandanna for his hair.
"Get off me, you giant ignoramus."
"Big word, Izumo. I guess with great age comes with it great wisdom," Kotetsu said sagely as he wrapped a friendly arm around Izumo's shoulders, steering him and Iruka to where ever he planned to take them. "I just wanted to check for gray hairs and all. You are getting old after all."
Iruka raised an eyebrow and pointed out, "Kotetsu, you're older than Izumo, you do realize that, right?"
"Details," the bandaged chuunin waved off the comment. "Anyway, with my superior genes, I have years of youth—"
"Unless you want to protégé for Gai, I'd shut your trap right there," Izumo said quickly, just as Iruka added, "Green spandex would not suit you."
As the trio walked the streets of Hidden Leaf at a relaxed, leisurely pace, Iruka suddenly wondered what was in store for tonight. As if mirroring his thoughts, Izumo asked, "Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise," Kotetsu said mysteriously. The lights of the night stores were starting to turn on as the rays of the sun turned from brilliant yellow to auburn-orange.
Iruka laughed and said, "I think that means he hasn't planned that far ahead."
Kotetsu growled a denial and half-heartedly aimed to hit one of Iruka's pressure points, though the chuunin-sensei stepped out of the attack range easily before falling in step again with Izumo.
"Here we are," the spiky-haired chuunin finally said. They stopped in front of a building that was sinking into the ground, making it lean towards the west.
"It's your apartment block," Izumo stated bluntly with a touch of confusion. "I thought you'd take me to a bar or something." His tone was confused, but there wasn't displeasure in it, either.
Running a hand through his hair, Kotetsu replied bashfully, "I like the bar scene far more than you enjoy it, and you begrudge me that all the time. It's about time I did something you liked."
"How'd you figure I'd like a quiet night in with friends?"
"I haven't been your mission partner for five years and not picked up on things like that," Kotetsu said as he led the other two up a rickety staircase. "Heck, I even got you some of that terrible, bitter green-tea cake crap that you always seem to like."
Umino muttered in a stage-whisper, "D'you think Kotetsu's been kidnapped and this guy is an imposter?" Iruka deftly caught and pocketed the throwing star aimed his way by Hagane and remarked, "You've got to do better than that to catch an Academy teacher off guard."
"Then don't bloody accuse me of being an imposter simply because I'm trying to be nice for once. Am I that awful?"
After Kotetsu finished talking, there was a telling pause that made Iruka chuckle lightly under his breath.
Pulling down the edge of the mask that caught on his chin, Izumo grinned and replied, "I don't really care if that's the case. A replacement doesn't sound too bad. With this one's helpful, nice-guy attitude, I might actually be able to complete paperwork on time."
"With friends like you, I don't need enemies," Kotetsu complained loudly as he pushed his apartment door open. "I should've just given you ten gold pieces and taken you to the Scarlet Sun and brush my hands of this. But no, I make an effort and get ridiculed for it."
They removed their footwear and made it to the lounge, where Kotetsu momentarily disappeared to come back with the aforementioned cake and some light cherry sake.
"Crap," Iruka widened his eyes theatrically. "He even got you your favourite drink. Did he get brainwashed on his last mission?"
Izumo paused as if to think it over. "Maybe; he went to Stone and those bastards are pretty fucked up..."
The puzzled neighbours only heard the sounds of crashing plates and laughter for the next half-hour following. Overall, the night was a good one, and Izumo even got a birthday wish once they'd hog-tied Kotetsu long enough to have used a muted fire jutsu—unnecessary as there were matches, but oh well—to light the candles.
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"Wake up."
Iruka stirred blearily, his eyes searching for the dented clock by his bedside, and groaned as he saw it ticking over to 3 o'clock—in the morning if the darkness was anything to go by. The chuunin smelled ice and frost in the air, and figured it had snowed while he'd slept.
Something cold touched his nose and for a split second Iruka wondered whether he'd left his window open and the snowflakes were floating in, but then he fully opened his eyes and yelped at seeing his own face being reflected back at him from the glass of black-tinted glass.
His heartbeat had leapt at the shock, but it calmed in the next second as Iruka realized it was simply Bito looking down at him, eyes undiscernible as usual with the orange-framed goggles.
"Are you awake?"
Clearing his hoarse throat, Iruka replied, "If I say 'no', will you leave me alone and let me sleep?"
Bito bit his bottom lip as he paused to think. "Probably not."
"Then, yes," Iruka sighed as he rubbed at his tired eyes. "I suppose I'm awake now."
He felt trashed, even though he didn't drink much at Kotetsu's—then again, he wasn't entirely sure that the cake he ate wasn't spiked with something. There was a lingering taste of bitter tea in the back of his throat mixed with something else. Running a tongue over his front teeth, he felt a strong desire to brush his them and shower.
But first, there was the more important matter of asking, "How the hell did you get in my apartment without setting off all the traps?"
Bito moved back slightly, as if surprised. "I'd come here for almost a fortnight, and you only wonder now how I get in?" If he weren't so tired, Iruka might have considered bristling at the condescending tone. As it were, all the man did was yawn loudly.
Shaking his head, the teacher then explained, "You come in by the window when I'm eating breakfast; every time it's been like that. If I wasn't there, the chakra sensors of the traps would have listed you as an intruder and sprung. With me sleeping, the same should have happened."
"Are you sure about that?"
At the coy tone of the child, Iruka forced one tired eye open to scrutinise his early morning visitor.
"Pretty sure, yeah," Iruka mumbled as he rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Since you didn't slit my throat or anything, I'll let it pass. Next time—though may the Heavens forbid you wake me up this early again—can you use the doorbell?"
"Duly noted," Bito waved off concerns with a tone that didn't particularly drive faith in him.
Sitting up, the coverlet surrounding Iruka slipped down and the chill of the cold air surrounded him, making him wish his night clothes were thicker. At least the crisp frost was waking him up, and he stretched languidly.
"So, Bito; what can I do for you this fine morning?"
"I would like to meet you atop the Hokage Monument at noon."
"And you couldn't tell me at a more reasonable hour because...?"
"Not sure." There was laughter in the young man's voice.
Groaning, Iruka resisted the urge to flop back on the mattress and curl back into sleep-mode. Instead, he kicked off the rest of the blankets and touched the cold timber of the floorboards with his feet.
"What's so important at noon?"
"Patience, sensei, and you can see for yourself."
Iruka's frustrated growl fell on deaf ears – well, no ears at all, because Bito disappeared into thin air.
Only later, after he'd showered and brushed, did Iruka realize how calm he acted. Someone broke and entered his apartment; someone who was surprisingly bossy and manipulative for some yet unknown reason; someone who was essentially a stranger no matter how much they talked.
Thinking things over, the conversations they usually shared was more Iruka talking and Bito listening than vice-versa.
A shiver went down Iruka's spine. He'd been off-field far too long if he'd been slacking his guards so drastically. Yet standing in his kitchen, he still wasn't worried. He couldn't bring himself to be overly worried. Was it because the boy was merely a child?
When I see him later, I'm going to demand some answers, Iruka thought firmly to himself, resolving to get to the bottom of things. Though a small part of him recognized the high chances of being challenged to another absurd game of tag.
Berating himself regardless for flagging paranoia, Iruka started cooking eggs in a battered old pan.
Iruka could only ever cook three things that didn't come out of a package with labelled instructions; chicken and/or fish with rice, variations on eggs and a bland watery-seafood-noodle concoction. Today, he craved something warm and since he was out of tea leaves and bags, he couldn't believe his luck; and so scrambled eggs came in a close second.
Since he'd woken up so early, he got ready for work at a slow pace, partly fuelled by the left-over lethargy of having practically no sleep the night prior. His students noticed he was tired, and seemed to thrive that morning, attempting several times to take advantage of their lagging home-room teacher.
For the most part, the chuunin let the smarter, subtler kids get away with a few things, but when one of the younger students tried to sneak out of the classroom in plain sight, Iruka teleported a foot in front of the boy, grabbed him around the collar and transported right back to the front of the class.
When the boy steadied himself against the slightly unsettling feeling of double companion-teleportation, Iruka barked, "Recite the signs of recognising an illusion and how to break out of it."
At the open mouth about to protest, Iruka shot him a look, one that said, don't even bother, and the child swallowed heavily before listing slowly, cautiously, in that way that made it obvious he didn't study—
"—to escape an illusion, you, umm... you bite your tongue- or something, because, err – because pain is a reminder!"
"A reminder of what?" prompted the chuunin with a raised eyebrow. The class was watching with bated breath to see if their classmate would stuff up. Iruka was actually fun to watch getting angry – unless you were the target of his fury.
"A reminder o-of, o-of—umm—reality?"
Smiling, Iruka said, "If you can get rid of that stutter, you'd do well in infiltration work, because you can pull believable bull—I mean; believable lies from thin air. You got some of the signs wrong, but worded them well enough to pass."
The child blinked back up at the chuunin in disbelief at the praise. He snapped back to attention when Iruka ordered him back to his seat though.
Umino wasn't lying though – the child was a quick thinker. He made a mental note to recommend the child to undergo some extra training, perhaps as a protégé to a reconnaissance major.
The bell called out for the ten-'til-noon lunch period, and the class exited in a mass of babbling, excited children. Iruka, instead of following them to pass the teacher's lounge, grabbed his bento and made to jump from his class window to the branch conveniently placed outside.
The Hokage Monument was close enough that Iruka didn't even break a sweat getting there. Actually, the stroll through the forest was calming enough to subdue the growing headache he'd been experiencing.
On top of the Third's head, he ate a light meal of rice and leftover eggs from his breakfast. Wetting his lips with some water he'd the foresight to bring, Iruka entertained himself by whistling some simple bird calls. His father was a master of birdcalls, but only had enough time to show Iruka some of the simpler notes.
Still, it was enough to occasionally get a response from the wildlife, and it was enough to make Iruka smile and remember fond memories.
Pulling out his battered silver pocket-watch attached to his vest by a thin chain, Iruka saw it was nearing the time when Academy students would be making their way back to class.
"Damn him, he's late."
"I do hope you're not talking about me, because I was never invited."
Iruka froze instinctively, long ago trained out of jumping. A small section of his consciousness registered the action and cursed it. If he was on heavy field work, he wouldn't have even changed his demeanour. Stiffening his entire body was a slip that could've killed him on a mission. Mentally, he noted to train some more – later though.
After he'd addressed the fact that Kakashi was suddenly lounging beside him with the air of a relaxed and comfortable cat.
"Kakashi, what are you doing here?" His words were casual enough, but Iruka still seemed unable to fully rid himself of his polite tone.
"I could ask you the same thing," the jounin replied as he brushed some dirt off his shoulder. "Since you'll read this later, I'd suppose in a report, I'll tell you that I've come back from that mission. Total bust; can't seem to find the bastards anywhere – they'd gotten disturbingly quiet."
"They say it's the quietest before the storm."
"I'll gladly bring the lightning."
Iruka chuckled. Naruto, and later, Sasuke in the chuunin practicals, had filled him in on Kakashi's rather spectacular abilities with concentrating his chakra into rather revolutionary jutsu. He'd taught enough geniuses to know that once a genius, always a genius.
"Aren't you meant to be looking after some wannabe-ninja brats?"
"It's not my round to look after them in lunch duty today, praise the deities."
"Huh." The Copy-Nin tilted his head to the side with a look of mild curiosity. "I'd pegged you as a mother hen."
"I'm more a sadist than a doting parent," the chuunin admitted unashamedly. "There's nothing like a little fear and public humiliation to help you remember how to throw a kunai."
"Nice. Seems our teaching policies don't differ that much then."
"I don't send kids out when they're not ready," Iruka snapped.
Whoa. Where'd that come from? They were talking calmly enough. A flash of echoed irritated heated up his gut, and a shadow of a memory passed through him; the chunnin exam nominations. Iruka thought he didn't hold grudges, but apparently, he did. Part of him was seething at the comparison of his own teaching skills to that of the jounin's.
"I thought it'd been established that Team 7 was ready," Kakashi's voice became deadpan cold, "but I shouldn't have put them through the test anyway."
"Please, pardon me. I was out of line." Formalities were back. So was the stiff tone. He didn't think they'd need to be back, but apparently Iruka had a little too much fire on his tongue which he couldn't keep in check.
Kakashi turned his face away – a pointless action, because his mask was on, the one of the cloth, and the one that made his eye go as flat as marble slate.
"Never mind, sensei." Hatake's voice became dull; indifferent. "I'll leave you be now so you can wait for your guest."
And even before Iruka could reply—to defend, to protest, he wasn't sure—the jounin had disappeared without any smoke to indicate he was even there. Only the sudden silence of the wildlife showed something was up.
The young chuunin was left with a hollow sensation and the strangest feeling he'd somehow fucked something up.
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"Where were you?" Iruka asked Bito, who was walking around his ceiling with chakra-infused feet aiding him along.
The boy continued his upside-down stroll, stretching his arms high above his head – or was that below his head, with the way things were turned around?
Regardless, there was a heavy paused before Bito replied, "You looked busy, sensei, talking to that strange looking ninja."
"He's not strange," Iruka defended without thinking. The words left his tongue, but he quickly recovered by adding, "Especially in comparison to some of the gems Leaf can create. I should introduce you to some of the others in the village. Anko would love you. She's fond of scaring brats."
"So I'm a brat now?" His tone was bemused, as if the thought was familiar and somehow comforting.
"I suggest you take that as a term of affection rather than anything else."
"Anyway, getting back on track," Bito said as he passed the main ceiling light, "I thought I was meant to meet up with you at noon."
"It was an unscheduled interruption, believe me," muttered Iruka as he moved a small pile of paperwork to his left and began editing some drafts of his pre-genin students.
"Well, I may be a brat, but I am anything but impolite enough to interrupt a conversation."
"For some reason, I don't believe that."
"I am devastated, sensei," a childish frown became present on the boy's face. "How could you say that?"
"Easily; I have a tongue and a set of lungs, don't I?"
"One that cracks like a whip and a pair that bellows like a gale," remarked Bito as he transferred the chakra to his hands and flipping around, essentially doing a handstand with his body the right way 'round on the ceiling.
Iruka paused in his markings, the red ink starting to stain his fingers. It was casual and offhand, but... his mother used to say something similar about his grandfather.
That thought, and the odd feeling of warped déjà vu that followed, prompted him to say in a no-bullshit-tone, "I need some answers."
Bito jumped down from his spot up high, and landed with a soundless grace on the timber floor. Exhaling heavily, he said, "For that, I'll probably need some questions."
"Are you a danger to me or Konoha?" Iruka rattled off without pause. Best start off with something important that he was pretty sure he'd established, but some re-enforcement wouldn't go astray.
Bito threw himself on the couch next to Iruka, and the dip in the seat was practically imperceptible; what was this kid – some kind of lightweight?
"If I was, I wouldn't say 'yes', now would I?" The grin was as wide as it was infuriating. He'd do well as an interrogator, if the child so wished to pursue such a career.
"Just tell me," Iruka sighed heavily, capping his pen and putting it away, along with his many papers. Those could wait.
"No," Bito admitted after a long pause. "I am the least threatening thing you could cross at the moment. Now, if you switch the word to 'manipulative', then that's another world entirely."
Strangely enough, instead of being unsettled, Iruka merely laughed. He couldn't disagree to that statement. Though the idea he was being played was filed away for later contemplation.
"Do you always wear goggles?" Iruka asked as the younger male's black tinted glass flashed white from the glare of the lights.
"Yes. I've got an eye injury, so it needs covering."
"How come you wear ninja clothes but don't appear on Academy records?" It was a somewhat petty inquiry that had been bugging Iruka for a while. Civilians usually did all they can to be clearly identified as 'civilian' as opposed to 'ninja'.
Bito looked confused, but there was a teasing hint in his face that screamed mischief. "How come you thought I gave you my name?"
"But you yourself said it was," Iruka pointed out slowly.
"Think back. Did I ever say the word 'name' in that exchange? I merely informed you of what to call me."
Thinking back, Iruka saw the boy was right. There wasn't a lie, merely a twisting of the truth. If Bito ever needed a recommendation to the Reconnaissance and Misinformation department, Iruka would write the letter himself.
"I concede that fact," Iruka finally said, his voice halting as he chose his next words. "So can you give me a reason?"
"I am on the records, but you can't access the files without using my full name specifically, and I'm not quite inclined to tell you that yet. It'd be more fun for you to find out... using some round-a-bout means."
"What's that even mean?" groaned Iruka as he slumped back on the couch.
"The fun's in finding out, isn't it?" The annoying part was that the excitement in the boy's voice was anything but faked.
Suppressing a weary sigh, the chuunin persevered, "Why are you here?"
"I'm here to help a friend in dire need; and perhaps save a life. Depends what I've got on my schedule," Bito replied dismissively, waving his hand as if it were of no concern.
Iruka briefly entertained the thought of continuing that line of thought, but he knew it would give him nothing but another headache. "Where do you come from?"
"Man, I know you're somewhat naive, but there are some things I thought they covered in basic Academy sex-education—"
"Firstly, I resent that 'naive' comment, and secondly, I ask for some seriousness."
"I come from Leaf Village, and that's all you'll be getting from me."
Rolling his eyes, Iruka asked, "How old are you, anyway? If you've gotten the sex-ed talk, that means you're at least—"
"Thirteen."
"Does that mean—"
"I'm a chuunin. Fresh graduate. Well, I was."
Iruka couldn't explain the sorrow. His own, the boy's. It was just inexplicable sadness. It suddenly weighed the room down like a wet blanket.
"I'm feeling a bit lost here," Iruka muttered. "It was one thing for a strange child to be pestering me, but a chuunin graduate? What the hell's going on?"
"Trust me. It'll be clear in the end." And there was an earnestness that marked a truth and a childish naivety that was hard to say no to.
"I swear on my life," Bito added on the end; Iruka didn't understand the strange laughter that followed it though.
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A/N: I'm thinking of just making Kotetsu and Izumo good friends in this story as opposed to the slash couple they're normally portrayed as. I love stories with a whole bunch of slash pairings, but sometimes I want to step back a little and realize that not everyone would be gay in reality. But, I won't stop you reading them as a couple. ^_^
If it's not too much trouble, I'd love some feedback. :-)
