This one's a little odd, but it grew on me. More up soon, thanks for reading! SHQ
033. Prison
Iruka has always had a hand for earth jutsu.
He's not as good as Kakashi, of course, but Kakashi is on Iruka's back, bleeding and silent.
So when the world goes to hell, and he's left watching three squadrons of Konoha soldiers begin to choke on their own blood (What the hell kind of poison is this?) he does what he can.
He takes a deep breath (eyes screwed shut, because it might be his last) and performs a jutsu he's only ever read about.
His eyes and chest burn with misrouted chakra.
The dark press of earth smothers his scream.
oOo
It hurts to breathe.
It feels like there's a weight on his chest, something heavy, something… warm?
Iruka frowns. Tries to open his eyes, but his efforts are met with more pain than he wants to deal with. One thing at a time. Eyes still closed, he cautiously flexes his fingers- no pain. He moves his hands, wrists, arms. Sore. But okay. Slowly, he brings a hand up to the weight on his chest.
Cloth. Skin.
Kakashi.
Somehow Iruka manages to find the edge of his mask, tug it down, press shaking fingers to the soft skin of his neck. A small eternity passes before he finds a pulse. The relief is a blessing, and gives him the strength to roll onto his side, gently letting Kakashi slump onto the cold, stony ground beside him.
The effort leaves his heart thumping uncomfortably. It doesn't hurt to breathe anymore, but his chest still aches. Iruka frowns, sits up. The dizziness almost knocks him back down, but he grits his teeth, waits for it to pass.
When it does, he deepens his breathing and concentrates. Listens. Somewhere, water is dripping, echoing off stone. The air is damp. He smells mold and moss. He reaches out with his chakra, senses bugs, a few snakes. Feels the vaguely electric hum of Kakashi's chakra, weak and faltering.
He still can't open his eyes.
oOo
Time and sunlight happen to other people.
Certainly not to him. Not in this place.
Iruka has learned every corner and bump of the little cave, learned on his hands and knees, because there is no room to stand. There is one way out: a tall, narrow cliff, slick with mud, that he has no hope of ascending.
Kakashi won't wake up.
Iruka forces handfuls of rainwater down his throat and waits, waits, waits. Feeds his chakra into Kakashi's when he can. Passes out afterwards. Slips into long, dark dreams. Wakes up in a panic because he can't open his eyes without screaming, heart thudding in his chest, and it hurts, his heart hurts.
He wants to hate it, this sanctuary turned cell. But what he hates is how the back of his eyelids has become a prison.
Lonely, and lightless.
oOo
More and more his thoughts turn to death.
What it feels like. When it will come.
The idea of death, of dying, doesn't scare him. Not like it used to. He's got everything to live for: his students, his village, Naruto. But he can't bring himself to be afraid. Death is loss, of life and living. But death is also release. From flesh and mortal pain.
Iruka is a soldier, and no stranger to suffering, but crawling from one end of the cave to the next leaves him gasping, leaves him desperate, leaves him clawing at his chest as if he could just tear the damn thing out and make it stop.
Mostly he stays by Kakashi.
Stays close by his side. Talks to him. Tells him, voice raspy and weak, about his students. Old missions. His parents.
Kakashi shows no signs of waking.
Iruka isn't afraid of death, but one thought is beginning to terrify him:
What if it's dark?
oOo
Years pass, maybe, or days.
Sometimes, when he's dreaming, Iruka hears the ocean. He can hear it crashing and rumbling just beyond the cave, he can smell it, he can almost see it, wide and blue and so, so free.
He can't crawl anymore.
He buries a hand in Kakashi's hair.
Panic and fear roil in his gut, and his heart is a rhythmic agony. Dark hours creep by.
A slow, strange calm overtakes him.
Iruka exhales.
He takes his index finger. Bites. Warm wet blood seeps out.
Inhale.
He slumps down beside Kakashi. Reaches out. Under cloth. Feels the sluggish thump of Kakashi's heart.
Exhale.
He presses down with his nail. Hard. Skin breaks. Warm wet blood.
Inhale.
He presses his index finger to the cut. Whispers a jutsu he's only ever read about.
Whatever happens, they'll go together.
oOo
A shining ocean. The crash of waves against the shore, the cool sea wind. Everything is clean and bright.
Someone takes his hand.
oOo
He can't open his eyes.
Iruka tries and tries and he can't, there's something there, and he reaches up and tries to claw it off because it's not fair, he can't go back to this, he won't-
His wrists are caught in a firm grip. Iruka yells, falls deeper into panic.
"Sshhhh…"
The voice is hoarse, raw with disuse. Has he heard it before?
"Ssshh, it's okay, hush now, you're fine…"
Iruka stills.
"Kakashi?" he croaks.
"Right here."
Iruka swallows.
"Where…?"
"Konoha. We're safe. We're fine."
"You're okay?"
Weak laughter.
"I should be asking you. Yes, I'll be alright."
Iruka sighs, slow and deep.
His heart doesn't hurt.
"Your bandages come off in a few days," he continues. "You'll be fine."
Iruka nods.
He hears Kakashi take a breath, as if to speak further, but stops himself.
"I'm going to get back in my bed," he says finally. "Before Tsuna-"
"No," Iruka interrupts. "Stay, please."
A long moment stretches by, and then there is a warmth beside him, a hand in his hair.
"Thank you," Kakashi whispers. "You saved my life, you know."
""Did I?" murmurs Iruka drowsily.
The bed is soft. Kakashi is so warm, and his voice is oddly soothing. It's a struggle to stay awake.
"Yes, you did."
"So you owe me?"
"Yes… You could say that."
"Good," Iruka yawns. "You'll go to the sea with me, then."
Kakashi makes a thoughtful sound. Iruka feels himself drifting into darkness, warm and unafraid.
"All right," promises Kakashi. "We'll go to the sea."