The night outside Iruka's tiny window was peculiar in its clarity. As he sat staring out, leaning back in the sturdy wooden chair and propping his feet on the side of the tiny desk, he couldn't help but examine the air closely, expecting to see billows of summer fog or a gathering storm, but instead, in contrast to the hazy humidity that clung to the air and his skin, the stars were bright and clear, and the wide moon lit up the streets, making the shadows a stark contrast against the ground. Iruka didn't know whether it was the heavy moisture in the air that had built up over the past few days, ready to spill over into thunder and showers, or the uncertainty of his current situation that caused him to expect inclement weather.
Genma should be traveling back now, he thought, and as much as he wanted to picture his friend sprinting across the flat landscape trailed by three other people, bright with hope and the promise of a safe return home, Iruka could only picture him alone. Ever since the bottom had fallen out from under them, the despair of a failed mission had hung over him like the clouds he expected to hang in the sky, weighing him down with personal failure and anticipation of the consequences that failure would surely bring.
All of this was compounded by the fact that neither he nor Genma had any idea what they were supposed to do. It didn't matter how much training you received, how much experience you had with covert missions, how much information you had gotten before leaving, or how many refresher courses you had attended. Nothing really ever prepared you for what to do when you were found out. Because, really, what could you do? Especially in their situation, in which the accusations had been made vaguely, loaded with threats and questions, but containing no real confirmation of anything.
It was infuriatingly clever of the Sound nin, Iruka had thought to himself earlier that evening, when the panic of being left alone, exposed, in an enemy village, was still fresh in his chest. A few well-placed comments, and both sides knew the Konoha operation had been revealed, but not enough information had been given away that Iruka and Genma could make a decisive movement. If they made a break for it and got home safely, the lack of definite information or proof their cover had been blown would make it seem as if they had abandoned their mission voluntarily. But if they stayed, they would effectively sign their lives--and valuable information--away. Or would they? The oto-nin had never technically made a threat, and however miniscule, there was still a chance that idle comments had been exactly what they were at face value, and that any perception of danger was nothing but insecurity and oversensitivity on part of Genma and Iruka.
With no other workable options, the duo had decided the evening before that Genma should continue according to mission parameters as if nothing were wrong. He would leave that evening, traveling at a civlilian's pace along main roads until he was far enough from the Sound village and reasonably sure nobody had followed him. Then he would cover his tracks, leave the road, and fly at a breakneck speed across the landscape to meet their contact at The White Hare by sundown. If their comrades felt that danger was imminent enough, they would rush back with Genma and assist in extracting them safely. If not, Genma would hurry back alone, and the two of them would reevaluate their options.
Genma had hated the idea, wracked with guilt for leaving Iruka behind and anxiety that, if he had also been compromised, instead of following him, his would-be pursuers would instead use the opportunity to come after Iruka for the copious information his security clearance gave him access to. But there was nothing else they could do. If they had elected to stay, Genma would have had to travel to meet them anyway.
"It's really no different," Iruka had reassured him as he prepared to leave, "and it's not as if we didn't know we'd have to split up from the get-go. There's no reason to agonize over the whole thing."
Well, that wasn't entirely true, Iruka said silently to himself, shifting his weight awkwardly in the hard straight-backed chair. He had tried to keep up appearances, to go out like he normally would, socialize over lunch by a popular stall, shop, talk to people... but as the day wore on, it became more and more difficult to pretend he didn't know they were probably watching. The itch on the back of his neck and the unease in his head had compounded with every exchanged glance and with every jostled shoulder as he moved through throngs of people. He had given up on the idea of dinner, and had remained in the room, chewing idly on a ration bar, glancing over his shoulder, staring out the window, tensing every time he heard footsteps and even more every time he didn't.
The chair was really uncomfortable. Maybe, he thought, pressing one hand against the cool glass as he shifted weight yet again, if he concentrated on that, on how unforgiving the design was, how he could feel his bones digging uncomfortably into the wood, how precarious his balance was as he leaned back on two chair legs, on how stiff his joints felt having sat there too long in such a bad position... Maybe if he concentrated on that, he would be able to ignore the unnatural way the shadows fell across the street, suggesting human presence with perfect line of sight into his window. Maybe he would be able to ignore the tiny lights, glinting in the darkness like they would off the retinas of some sort of animal. Or maybe he could stop thinking about the fact that the two rooms adjacent to his had suddenly been booked, both at the same time, right on either side of Iruka even though the whole inn had been, with a few exceptions, basically empty.
But Iruka was kidding himself. If his and Genma had truly been uncovered, there was no way he would have made it to their rendezvous point on time. What self respecting hidden village would just allow an enemy nin to leave the village? If Genma wasn't dead or wounded already, he had missed their allies, and if that were the case, their chances of escaping Sound were slim to none.
For that matter, given how obvious his watchers had become after Genma left the village, his friend's chances of returning to find Iruka at all were slipping away into nothing. Iruka took a deep breath and tried to think like a teacher. What would he tell his class? In a situation like this, obvious eyes can mean one of two things: they're trying to scare you--to smoke you out, or it no longer matters whether you see them or not. Knowing this, the decision to flee was made a lot easier, though the idea of fleeing a mission without any real information sat like a stone in his gut.
But Iruka wasn't sure he could do it. Escape would be difficult with both him and Genma, but alone, with all of Oto watching? Iruka wouldn't stand a chance. All the same, time was slipping away. Sound was gearing up to make a decisive move against him, and Iruka wasn't sure he had the time to wait for help.
No. He had to wait. Fleeing now, with all these watchers, in the dead of night with no provocation, was as good as signing his life away. Besides which, if Genma returned to find Iruka gone without a trace, he would assume Iruka had been captured or killed in his absence, and there was no way to ensure they'd meet on the road to prevent this. It was better, safer, to wait for Genma to return. Maybe he was just being pessimistic. Maybe he did make it on time. Maybe everything would be fine.
