Chapter 6 – And the Bonds Break

The lamp cast a moving backdrop against the kitchen table and across the faces of the room's two occupants. It laid their shadows long against the floor, so that they stretched into the other room and over the quiet sleepers. Iruka looked at them over his shoulder. In this light, his dark eyes appeared black.

"Rumors about that massacre followed me for years," he said quietly. "Some of those children had relatives who eventually looked for them. A few details were released, to give them closure."

Naruto couldn't stop his hands from shaking. Anger – rage – bubbled up as he heard the story, which seemed too awful to have really happened, right here in his own village. "Why?"

"I still don't know. There was nothing truly valuable there. No reason for anyone to hurt those children. Someone just killed them."

There was a long moment as both followed their minds back over those old images when a huddled, helpless group of civilian children had died for no reason fathomable in this saner time.

Finally, Iruka continued, "Some good did ultimately come out of their deaths, though I didn't know that until much later."

Naruto baulked at the very idea. He wondered incredulously, "Good?"

His teacher squarely met his gaze. "Yes. The men who rescued me that day were members of the Konoha Military Police Force. They brought me to the Sandaime, and something Fugaku said convinced the Sandaime to open the Academy again."

It was strange to think about the Uchiha in a context unrelated to Naruto's own experience – without thinking of Sasuke. It made him feel uncomfortable. Nonetheless, understanding began tricking through. "They opened the academy so the kids would have somewhere to go."

"It was a turning point." Iruka nodded. "Sarutobi had just been reinstated as Hokage, but he was still hesitating to seize full control and –" There was very slight pause, in which his eyes flickered briefly over Naruto. "Well, there were other things on his mind."

Naruto looked back at him without comprehension.

Iruka cleared his throat. "Anyway, later, he told me the story."

From the height of the Hokage Tower, Sarutobi looked out at the ruined skyline, his eyes bunched with a thousand creases. The forest and the earth seemed like a tattered remnant before him. He remembered how the village had looked during the days of his former leadership, and it made grief swell around his heart. He pressed against his chest, feeling his age in a way he never had before.

He barely recognized his own voice when he spoke. "Where did you find them?"

Uchiha Fugaku stood behind him in the audience chamber. "In district 4. By the time we arrived at the house, it was too late. There was no rational that could be determined. It was senseless, brutal murder."

Sarutobi closed his eyes. He felt deadened by the story. Recently, there had been so many like it. "And the survivor?"

"We brought him back with us," Fugaku confirmed. "It seems that he had been protecting those children."

Sequestered in his voice was a trace of accusation. Sarutobi lifted his hand to respond to it, then let it drop. "I see. You can leave the boy here now. He'll be looked after."

Fugaku's eyes went as hard as splinters of onyx. "Should I turn him over to your shinobi? It was shinobi we rescued him from, and not interlopers either. They were men of Konoha, rouge, intent on despoiling a child. Things like this should not happen, and yet you've done nothing to stop it."

It was a brazen pronouncement, a challenge to his leadership without concession. That this representative of the Uchiha, with their strained relationship with the ruling house of Konoha, dared to say such a thing caused Sarutobi lift his head in sudden, sharp attention. An almost smothered flame of anger flickered back to life.

"What are you suggesting?"

Fugaku seized this opportunity. "The Yondaime was a leader that I respected, and his death was a tragedy, but turning inward will not honor him. You must do something, before the village loses itself to the beast even now."

"The fox is sealed," Sarutobi insisted immediately. Sweat had broken out over his skin, thinking of Kyuubi. If anyone knew the entire truth –

"I'm speaking of the aftermath of war," Fugaku interrupted. "The Uchiha are ready to help rebuild, but not by this ugly show of force as we have been doing. My people are getting angry. We're meant to keep order, not to be scarecrows and brutalizers. We are doing what we can. However," he punctuated. "There is some justice that only the Hokage can administer."

Sarutobi felt the edges of these hard words, fingered them with keenness that he had wetted during his years as a leader of men. The implications were far greater than the fate of one boy. "I know this," he finally said.

"Then begin making changes," Fugaku demanded. "Before this prevaricating becomes a weakness that cannot be abided."

The Sandaime turned, his back bent. "I never wanted a world where my children live in fear."

"Then it's time to rebuild."

"Yes," Sarutobi agreed. "Yes, it is time."

The Uchiha nodded, and in his face was a determined energy that Konoha and its allies would need to recover from this massive misfortune. "Where shall we begin, Lord?"

The Third thought of the survivor of the terrible massacre that had claimed small lives somewhere in the heart of his wounded Konoha, children who had been struggling to survive. It made this first decision easier than the many that would follow.

"The Academy."

"Of course, I didn't know these things at the time."

Naruto felt grim. Even knowing that the academy had been reopened didn't make the loss any more bearable. From the creases that had gathered on Iruka's face, he felt the same. The lines around his eyes seemed deeper as his mind ran over those old, troubled memories.

"So you went back to school."

Iruka shifted. "Yes. Once the dust settled, civilian children were placed in homes or sent to other villages that hadn't been hit so hard. Those of us who were shinobi started training again under the supervision of our academy teachers."

"What were things like then?" Naruto asked. "Were any of the classes the same?"

Iruka made a peculiar motion, as though he were reluctant to explain. "We were pushed very hard. Every rank of shinobi had experienced massive casualties. Replacements were needed."

The lamp flickered. The oil needed to be refreshed.

Iruka's eyes took on a glassy cast. "I remember that first day we all came back. No one laughed." A shake of his head. "It was like being in a graveyard. Missing faces. Usually, there would be people running up to greet each other, and parents saying goodbye, and the little ones playing. Not then. Instead the teachers lined us up, all of us in the yard with the front gate of the building sagging behind us, and told us how things were going to be from then on."

Iruka stood where he had been placed and kept his head down, unwilling to speak. He hadn't said much since he'd been brought to the Tower and put into the village's custody. The temporary housing had been terrible, be he hadn't been in any shape to protest. All he'd wanted was to be left alone. For the most part he had been – terribly alone – but that was all changing now. He'd been moved into the academy assembly hall that very morning and assigned a narrow strip of floor and a threadbare futon.

Now he was here, with the morning light still cold and heatless on his back.

The academy yard was barely recognizable. The grass had been seared, and lay in long strips of burned yellow and scorched black. A forlorn, one armed swing hung from a branch, it's seat scraping the ground. Iruka looked at the slowly spinning rope that secured it fixedly. He ignored the other students, most of which were avoiding each other's eyes anyway.

Finally, their head teacher limped forward to stand in front of their imperfect lines, looking gruffer and leaner than before. He spoke frankly to their young, worried faces: "This is not the same academy as before," he began. "We don't have time. Those of you in your final year will be assessed. If you qualify, you'll be promoted."

Iruka looked around and saw the members of the senior class. Some appeared troubled by the pronouncement, but most looked determined.

"If you still have family in Konoha, that's where you go directly after classes, or to the cleaning patrols to which you're assigned. Otherwise, you'll be housed here until we figure out what to do with you."

One of the youngest children burst into tears, overcome by the tension that was hanging in the air. A bigger student stooped and pulled them together, one an arm around the tiny, narrow shoulders. Iruka watched them as the academy sensei continued.

"When classes are in session, you'll take them seriously. We won't tolerate any foolishness. For all intents and purposes, you're soldiers of Konoha now, and it's your duty to defend this village by preparing yourselves for full service as quickly as possible. This is your number one priority. Do you understand?"

"Hai, Sensei!" A hundred voices answered, some hoarse, others smooth and high.

Iuka looked at the first year students and swallowed back nausea. The future stretched out in front of him like the color grey. Iruka tried, but couldn't feel anything. His body was dead, senseless flesh. Aside from that, the only thing left was the deepest, most solitary ember of a burning, bitter rage.

Naruto looked across the table to where his sensei sat. He looked older, and Naruto's hand went out involuntarily to grasp his hand. "Sensei?"

His teacher's shoulder's straightened. When he raised his eyes, it was with complete composure, as steady as Naruto had ever known him to be.

"Anyway," he said after a moment. "They pushed through the older students in only a few weeks, and the other groups were accelerated, too. That's why I graduated so early, just after I turned eleven. I wasn't truly qualified. It was five more years before I made chuunin, and I never had a jounin-sensei."

Naruto was flabbergasted. "I thought everyone had jounin-sensei."

Grimly, Iruka said, "Most of the shinobi still alive do, or did. You should know this, Naruto. One day it might be your decision."

And abruptly Naruto realized that this was what Iruka had been fighting against for most of Naruto's boyhood. Early graduation. Hasty promotions. Shinobi who were merely soldiers, not men and women. Mere fodder, he realized suddenly, and the sound of breathing from the next room became suddenly very loud. Tonight, they had been speaking of the Reconstruction, but now he wondered about the time beyond that, to what Iruka had faced in the line of duty as a fresh Academy graduate.

As though he sensed how troubled Naruto had become, Iruka spoke reassuringly. "It was a different time, Naruto. Even before the Kyuubi, Konoha was at war with other shinobi. We almost destroyed ourselves, all of us, by murder and deceit and competition. For more power, rather than for a safer and better life."

He thought about Kakashi-sensei, and about Sasuke and Itachi and Gaara, and then he remembered Iruka's uncomfortable words about lasting harm.

"But you survived."

"I saw a lot of my peer group die. But things improved, thanks to the Sandaime." A wan smile peeked out. "He eventually even made time for a traumatized brat known for setting rainbow colored tracking tags in people's showers."

A bark of laughter was startled out of Naruto at the very thought. "You were bad, Sensei!"

"Positively, but I was also very lonely and hurting a great deal."

"You were a prankster."

"That's a kind word for it," Iruka said. "More accurately, I was a thief and a troublemaker. I don't know what I was trying to do, exactly. Mizuki, for one, didn't have a very high opinion of what he called my 'bouts of melancholy'."

"Mizuki." The name still made Naruto uneasy, even after all this time and the man in question long since dead.

Iruka's brows furrowed, and as though in explanation he said, "I was alone, and he was my friend."

"Was he always, you know –"

"It's not an easy question. I look back, and I sometimes think I knew how angry he was. His father was also killed, and he experienced some of the same hardship I did. However, he could never really forgive the village. Later, I suspected it had even deeper roots in his history."

Naruto swallowed. "I don't really like thinking of him like that."

Iruka's smile was understanding. "It's harder not to feel pity when your enemy is a person, isn't it? But it's important to remember. Everyone you face has a story and secrets and sorrowful things they'd rather forget. Just like us."

Naruto wanted nothing so much as to forget Mizuki existed. That day and Iruka's words may have been the most important of his life, but every time he saw Sensei's shoulders stiffen when it rained, or on the rare occasions when he saw the man's bare back, he was reminded of how his naivety that had left such a permanent mark.

Which reminded him –

"Iruka-sensei, there was something else in the files that I didn't understand." Iruka raised his eyebrows at the mention of his snooping, but nodded for him to go on. "There was something about a criminal record. It was dated several months after the Kyuubi was released."

A true frown came over his teacher's face, hard and dark and unhappy. An unknown emotion passed over his face, before it finally subdued. He ducked his chin.

Concerned, Naruto asked, "Sensei?"

Faintly, his teacher waved him off. "Yes, that file. Not many people know about that. It is part of the answer to your question, though. About the kids and about, well, about you."

Something froze inside Naruto. Even without being told, he knew that this revelation could not be anything good. And suddenly, Naruto knew he did not want to know. "S-sensei," he tried to stop the looming revelation, but Iruka would not let him go back. Eyes like a tide met his own in an inevitable flood of knowledge and water.

He said, "There's one last part of the story."