AN: Right now I'm studying for my finals (in 3 weeks!) but honestly I just needed a break - this story is a result of this break. It focuses on Iruka, and two major battles in his life - not because of the actual fighting but because of the aftermath. So, anyway, I hope you enjoy, and of course if you can, please leave a comment!

Oh by the way, Happy Easter to all those who celebrate it, (and those who don't as well!)


A day after the battle Iruka walked through Konoha; ruined, burned, smoking Konoha, helping, like all the adults in the cleaning of the bodies. The bodies lying cold and stiff in the dirt, lining up the village brought back memories, dark, terrible memories, and Iruka knew that he wasn't the only one. They were all silent, the chunnin and jouunin, picking up the dead, getting everything ready for the burials.

It was so realistic, so down-to-earth, so terribly practical; there was nothing that reminded of heroism in the slow tedious work after the battle. The shinobi of Konoha moved around stiffly, many had swollen eyes, everyone wished for comfort, Iruka knew this very well, but he also knew very well that there was nothing to say. Tomorrow, at the ceremony for the fallen maybe, but not today.

A shout and then a sob brought him out of his dull musings. Iruka looked around to see a little girl rush through the streets, sobbing, tears running down her face. She ran to one of the bodies. The one he was just going to pick up, in fact.

"Okasan!" The little girl lounged herself onto the dead body. "Okasan! Okasan!"

Iruka looked away.

"Hien!" came a shout, and a middle aged man, presumably the girl's father seized the girl and tried to pull her away. "She's gone. She's gone!" he vainly tried to explain to the child in a haunting voice. Iruka wanted to close his eyes, to shut off the sobbing of the girl and the hollow voice of the man. He wanted to shut it all out.

Finally the father managed to lead the girl away from the corpse, when they were gone Iruka picked up the dead woman in a chuunin vest. At least the identification of the bodies wasn't his job. That was the worst. Seeing who all these massacred people were. Writing down the names on long lists. Another routine job: Identify. Write down. Next. Identify. Write down. Next...and so on and on, for the whole day - you went numb after a few hours.

Iruka sighed and tried to push the thoughts away. The numbness made him feel sick. The methodical, slow job of picking up the bodies and collecting the stray weapons, the smell of dried blood on bodies and on the pavement, the silence, brought his mind to the first time he walked across a battle field the next morning. The time that forged his whole childhood, the time he shouldn't have been there. Unwatned memories stirred.