Sorry, this chapter might seem a little long . . . but it gets better soon. I just had to lay out the story quick so we could get to the good part. So . . . enjoy! I promise it gets better! Neonn, please read this! It's just like your "Engagement" story! Again, sorry it's so long (almost 3000 words!!). I promise you'll get to the funny/juicy stuff soon!
Disclaimer: I don't own Iruka, or anything pertaining to the manga/anime Naruto. I do own the little girl and Masamune Hayake, though. And the plot.
A Great Reward
All that could be heard was the sound of the breeze sweeping through the palm trees accompanied by the ambience of the white horses. Every once in a while, they would gallop up to shores of the Wave Nation where they would dance momentarily, then swiftly travel back again to the deep blue hue of the sparkling sea. The beach was anything but populated; every once in a while, someone would walk by the tanning man on the shore, but other than that, there wasn't much excitement.
It didn't bother him at all. This was heaven.
I can't believe I actually made it through until now. It's summer break—and now I get to relax for a month-and-a-half. No bratty kids, no tests to correct, no cramped, stuffy office or classroom. It's just the wide, blue sky above me, the white, warm sand below me, and . . . overexposure to the sun.
Iruka sat up after realizing he'd been in the sun's rays for close to four hours. Now he looked like an overcooked lobster, but to make it worse, he was wearing his sunglasses, which would give him a lovely raccoon tan. To make it better, he'd also been sleeping with his hand on his stomach. Now that would be attractive. Wonderful. "Oh, how lovely," he groaned sarcastically, smiled at his oafish actions. It was better than complaining. He'd worked hard to get to his much needed vacation, and he wasn't going to let a funky tan get in his way. From the sun, he could tell it was about time to get back to the condo and find some place to eat dinner. So, with only minute complaining from the pain of his sunburn, he picked up his things and started back, only to stop short and realize that his flip flops were buried somewhere in the sand. Some kids had probably thought it might be entertaining to hide them from the sight of the sleeping man. No bother, he told himself. It didn't take long to find them, for the kids who'd buried them had marked the spot with the words "ha ha" made from rocks. Dumb kids, he thought. Just like in Konoha. So, he dug them up, smiling through the chore, and began the walk back to the condo.
The walk wasn't far, but Iruka enjoyed it all too much. The air here was so fresh, so reviving. I'm so glad I got here before I went crazy. Those kids are too much to handle sometimes.
He stepped up to the door, fumbled with the key and unlocked the door. A rush of cool air danced along his senses as he walked in, giving him the renewal needed to relax. No, he thought, I'm going to go to a restaurant to eat. He tossed his things on the bed, then sat down in a chair at the table and looked over a list of places his friend had written for him to go. They were all supposed to be good, and he didn't feel like being too picky, so he just chose the restaurant closest to the condo—a hole-in-the-wall in a small, nearby village. "It's a tepan restaurant. Barbeque sounds good, I suppose." So, half-decided, he treated his sunburn, changed attire, and pulled his hair back up in the bathroom. While fixing his hair, he decided that since he was wearing no hitai-ate, he'd let his bangs loose. It was a change; he hadn't worn his hair that way since he was a boy. Since he was another one of those "dumb kids" that roamed the streets of Konoha. A smile again crept onto his face, which pushed him to look at his face in the mirror.
Despite the raccoon tan on his face, he examined the other features that marked him: his hard-set jaw, the scar horizontally marking his portrait, the cowlick that sat higher on the right side of his head than the left. People knew him by these features, but that was only visual examination. I wonder, he began, how people really see me. Do they see Iruka, the school teacher, or Iruka, the chuunin, or just Iruka? Do people actually see me for who I really am? A cranky, restless, yet hopeful young man?
No matter. No time to worry. He had some serious eating to do.
Walking down a desolate road, he soon beheld on the near horizon a little village—the one he was told had a pretty good tepan restaurant. Another smile. Dinner would be good tonight, because there weren't any students who'd decide they'd have a chat with him in the restaurant while they did something to his food. Dumb kids.
But . . . there was hardly a sign of any life from this far away. No matter, the streets would probably be throbbing with busy, hardworking, simple people, eager to finish any unfinished business before sundown. It was probably one of those dock towns on the shore where people who came from across the sea could stay in the inn just down the street, then continue their trading within the village. He approached more still, and he found, with every step closer that was taken, the village seemed all the more dead. Had there been massacre? Why would this village be the one his friend would recommend him to? Perhaps a considerable amount of time had passed since the time his friend had actually been there, and within such an allotment, the village had become run down, or become abandoned, or whatever. The people, maybe, had considered their village bankrupt, and abandoned it to hideaways, missing nins, or whoever or whatever saw it fit to hide out.
Further curious, Iruka continued into the village, pondering its sad fate.
Nearing the village, and finally entering, he realized lights—lights that indicated business or residence in the buildings. There was hope for this little town, after all.
His stomach growled. He was still hungry, but he also wanted to explore, gathering more information about this town. In his exploration, he identified graffiti indicating threats like, "Justice will be paid," and, "Your debt will be your end." Some religious group, perhaps? Or harassment from neighboring towns? Or probably some dumb kids. Yeah, that was probably it—but look at these doors. They're all marked with black, as if someone had carelessly gone by defacing whatever they felt necessary. And the streets were abandoned, dirty for the most part. What story did this village have to tell?
He'd been walking for—who knows, ten minutes?—before he finally snapped out of his eerie trance and realized the restaurant waited with open doors before him. Another smile, and he casually walked in, hands in pockets. At least they could have a good place to eat.
This restaurant, too, was desolate. Only about five other people were there, all crowded around one tepan. They sat in their chairs, chatting quietly among themselves, looking hard and solemn in their hardly social state.
"Oh, master, would you like a seat?" came the voice of a young restaurant worker dressed in a flowery kimono and adorned in the style of old. Iruka looked at her, and from what he determined, she was fairly young, about the youthful age of ten. Her features were fairly odd, uncommon, often unseen and only told in tales: dark hair and tan skin, sure, but these features were set off with bright, big blue eyes—a highly unlikely combination that was actually rather stunning to the beholder. It was quite beautiful to him.
"Yes, I suppose so," he replied. She grinned, bowed slightly—a sign of utmost respect and admiration. He was probably their first customer in a while, and she showed grace in accepting him into the restaurant.
"Come right this way." She walked before him, taking him to the tepan where sat the solemn party of five. "Father," she called out to them, "we have a customer."
The man sitting at the end of the table turned to face Iruka, revealing that he possessed the same features as this young girl. This was her father? The man looked at Iruka solemnly, as if he had to think about greeting this stranger into the restaurant. Iruka anticipated another moment of staring before the man said anything; this belief was contradicted, however, when the man stood up and took Iruka's hand in a firm, welcoming handshake.
"Welcome, foreigner," his voice boomed—or at least that's what Iruka expected. This man was soft, dressed in very business-like attire, as if he'd not had an ounce of hard physical activity in all his adulthood. Yet, his handshake was very firm and leader-like, as if he held some high position in this village. Iruka only smiled again as the man smiled back. "Come, sit. Dinner's about to start. We are honored to have you with us, master."
Iruka thanked him, but it couldn't be heard above all the rest of the talking that had mysteriously become louder and brighter as soon as the man invited him to sit down. As he was seated, the girl came around to Iruka and gave him—only him—a menu. He thanked her also, but she was away just as he began to speak. She'd scurried over to her father, whispered something into his ear. He nodded, thanked her as she hurried away. Were they talking about me? Iruka wondered. No matter. He only looked through the items on the menu. All looked particularly appetizing, and the price was pretty reasonable. This would be the most difficult thing he'd have done all summer.
"It's not often we get foreigners—we hardly have anyone from outer areas come, not even from this entire nation. We're delighted to have you with us, especially in these difficult times. It's a privilege, master—" He stopped as the girl again came around the table, offering drinks to the customers. Iruka looked at her, a busy little girl, running here and there, always disappearing before he could ever say thank you. Cute little girl. It was almost as if she were purposely evading his eyes, as if there was something about him that drove a subtle disturbance into her. "I, uh, didn't catch your name, young man. Where are you from?" Iruka's eyes moved up to meet the man's own across the tepan. He stared sternly, yet warmly, inviting information about his customer, a foreigner.
"I'm Iruka," he began. The people smiled, spoke among themselves, and in their newly sparked conversation, he heard that they were repeatedly using his name.
"Oh, Iruka," that man smiled. "I am Masamune Hayake, the leader of this village. This is my council."
"Oh—" Iruka was suddenly surprised, and stood up from his seat quickly. "I was unaware that I was in such important company. You see, where I come from, my position isn't quite so important. I'm not used to being in the presence of such highly honored people—unless it's the Hokage, but he insists that we do not treat him so highly."
Hayake laughed heartily. "Master, I ask you to do the same with me. I am nothing to your Hokage—and by Hokage, I assume you are from the Fire Nation?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"Ah, what village?"
"The Hidden Leaf, sir. I'm a teacher at the academy."
"Very interesting." Hayake suddenly became fairly interested in this topic. "What is it that you teach?"
This conversation was getting a little too deep. "I'm at the ninja academy." At this comment, Iruka received more solemn stares from around the tepan, especially from Hayake. What did I say?
"We have no such academy here . . . may I ask what rank you hold?"
Why? Why had they become so suddenly interested? "Chuunin. May I ask why?" The man laughed, as if Iruka were to be ashamed of his answer.
"Why not jounin?—forgive me for intruding."
"No," he began, partially annoyed, yet secluding his annoyance with a very good mask of friendliness. He didn't exactly enjoy being questioned so thoroughly by strangers. "I, uh, just didn't feel as if I wanted to pursue my studies. I'm happy with my current status—just a teacher who doesn't like kids." A joke, of course, that earned a few good laughs. Hayake laughed particularly loudly, attracting Iruka's attention. What on earth was going on?
"Master, before I ask you one last question, I must explain the situation of my village." He sat back, as if preparing to tell a lengthy tale. Iruka braced for the worst—especially since this was his summer vacation, and his time would be wasted. But, without interrupting, he allowed the man to continue—further delayed by the entrance of the girl once more, who'd only come to pick up orders from around the table. She came to Iruka only, taking his order and hurrying away.
"And for you—master?"
"The, uh—oh, yes, the sukiyaki beef, please." She quickly took his menu, but as she turned to scurry away, he called, "Wait!" She paused, and he noticed she was frightened, or startled, or something by the wide look in her eyes as she turned to him. He smiled brightly. "You're not going to run off without me saying thanks, are you?" Laughter emerged from the party, which seemed to ease the look in her eyes. She smiled, giggled, and hurried away. Cute little girl.
"Charming," came the voice of Hayake. "She is my youngest daughter—cute little thing if you ask me." Iruka laughed a bit, turned again to face Hayake. At that time, in a flurry of frustration, he listened in again to the leader's message.
"This is my village. I love it with all my heart and enjoy keeping its watch, but," he paused and suddenly got more serious, "a certain sequences of events, ranging from two years previous, has rocked my village to the core; thus, its abandoned state." He paused, as if he'd expected Iruka to comment. Before he could express his sympathy, however, the man halted him with and upheld hand. "I do not ask for pity—pity will get me no where. I ask for aid."
Iruka didn't know what to reply. Why would they want me to help? "Before I accept, Master, I must ask what aid you seek."
Frustrated, the man continued. His plan had been crushed, apparently—a plan that would get Iruka to agree before knowing the details. "My village remains in a false debt, which constantly remains the reason for my village's state—threatening notes defacing walls, marks on our doors, stolen assets, and in some cases, kidnapped children. All these warnings originate from the chain of three bandits—not ninjas, mind you, but three untrained bandits (as was told by those who have already encountered them, but have failed to stop them)—who've been defacing our home because of this false debt we have owed them for the past two years. For this reason are the streets barren at night. There is nothing we can do, for we know not when they will strike, and they always seem to slip through our fingers because of our fear of them and what they might do. We have been constantly refused when we ask for aid from the Mizukage. Every time we ask, he only says that a strong village is built upon strong people, and turns us away—or he claims that it's just the result of bored kids with nothing better to do than practical jokes." Iruka thought of Naruto at that thought, and giggled. "Or, in other situations, he will remind us that we are not in the proper vicinity to be asking for help—that we are practically not from the same nation. We have no help from ninjas. None of us can do it. We have no skills to stop these bandits."
Iruka knew what he was asking, and face remained blank. I only came here to eat, not to accept a mission from a stranger. Why are they asking me this? Who do they think they are? "I'm sorry, but I don't have time for this—" Slightly annoyed, he rose from the table and approached the exit. Who do these people think they are? Asking a stranger like me to help them, of all the . . . As he came right behind the tepan, he heard Hayake call his name in a last effort to keep his interest in what his offer was. Iruka thought his head would explode with stress, and in a brilliant flash of severe annoyance, he suppressed a yell that came out as an almost comical, "What?!"
A soft tone of voice invaded the short silence—the voice of a frightened little girl. She took a hold of his hand, and he looked down at her pretty little face. "I pray," she pleaded, pulling on his hand, "do not leave so quickly." It was that very tone of voice that made Iruka's shoulders suddenly droop in relaxation as he breathed out a bit of annoyance. Cute little girl. How could anyone resist that? Eerie thought overtook him, and he thought of the chance that she might be the next child in the village kidnapped. Why would anyone do that—especially to such a cute little girl? Turning to see the back of Hayake's head, he listened to a final, "We're desperate." Iruka weighed the outcomes of each decision. Sure, it would be easier to just refuse and let the village suffer.
Suffer. I've heard that word before—I'm very familiar with it, I've known it since I was about this little girl's age. My parents suffered for their village, and left me alone to suffer when they died for it. Like he said, they don't need pity—they need aid. Help. They can't protect themselves, not even from these mere bandits, because they're untrained in the ninja arts. It wouldn't be so hard, would it? Surely, he could easily take them out—how hard could it be? He might also be able to pick up a little extra cash in the doing, also.
I can't believe I'm doing this, Iruka groaned as he relaxed even more. I'm too nice sometimes. I'm a sucker. Before he could accept with a question of reward, he was interrupted by Hayake's further speech. Iruka could tell he was smiling by the way he said it, knowing Iruka had already accepted the task long before.
"Your reward," he began, "will be great."
Hey, it's me again! Just thought I'd apologize once more for taking a long time with this one.
Oh, and another thing about the little girl . . . I've had concerns arise that Iruka's gonna get hitched with the little girl. I promise, he DOESN'T. That would be disgusting.