Hi and a million thanks to my patient and forgiving readers. And it's been great to hear from you reviewers!
Well, it's not exactly in the spirit of the season. but nevertheless here is:

Chapter 7

Their meeting in the clearing was becoming a regular thing, regular in that it happened often, although not with any kind of a pattern. Mizuki was taking missions, and the time had come for the school to reopen and for Iruka to return to classes.

Mizuki was disgruntled when he heard that Iruka's class was to be accelerated. With the exception of individuals who had disciplinary actions or flat failed completely, all of them were going to receive a sort of boot camp-style compressed training and be elevated to genin within six to eight months. The next boost would be at twenty-four months: an unheard-of automatic ascension to chunin. The journeyman-level ranks had been decimated, parents had pulled children off of shinobi track, and the resulting smaller pool of up and coming pre-genin would barely be enough to sustain manpower even if everyone advanced. Some slightly marginal genin had been promoted to chunin, some chunin were advanced to jounin early, and the vacancies rolled downhill. So many shinobi died or were permanently disabled fighting the fox demon it was feared that Konoha could fall from its position as the strongest power.

Mizuki hadn't been chunin long enough to get that shortcut quite yet. When he first heard about the promotions, he'd preened at the idea of making jounin so quickly. But as usual, timing that paid off so handsomely for others fell flat when it came to him. When they listed the new jounin on the board he watched in bitter silence as so many others whooped and pounded one another's backs. He blamed his teammates for it, they were soft and slow in the field it and they'd drug him down with them. Sometimes he just wanted to kunai them both to a tree and do the mission by himself. His chakra was twice what either of theirs was, and he had no problem exerting plenty of force to get the job done. He concentrated on perfecting the most devastating jutsus, never leaving a survivor if the choice was his.

Sometime he wished he had the choice to just eliminate his teammates altogether. Looking at the list with his name nakedly absent, it became one of his fondest wishes.

So it was that his mood was black, his heart blacker, and his self-restraint stretched to the breaking point when Iruka bounced into the clearing to share his good news.

"Mizuki, guess what?" Iruka smiled, running up to his friend sitting on the riverbank. He slid to a halt sitting next to him, enthusiastically grabbing his arm. "I'm on the six-month track! Six months and I go full genin! Even with all the time I missed between the stuff that happened and the school being closed, I'm promoting for sure!"

His cute face never looked better since Mizuki met him. He looked much healthier, happier, alive.

Mizuki smiled, but his eyes stayed narrow and fierce. "You think that's for your benefit? You think they're doing that to recognize you?"

"Uh…well," Iruka was thrown off by the unexpected reaction. "I don't know. I mean, it's a promotion; it's what I'm working up to. So I get it early, that's great, right?"

"Right. You go into the field before you're really on that level; and then I get to come do a crayon rubbing of your name on the memorial stone for my bedroom wall. Sweet," Mizuki sneered.

"Who says I won't be on that level? I'm capable. I'm gonna be a chunin before you know it, then a jounin, maybe, who knows, a sannin! It was decided a long time ago."

"You're stupid then. Come on, you're so ready, so sharp. Come spar with me. I'll try not to hurt you, but let me come at you like a real enemy comes at you. Then you'll see what I'm talking about."

Iruka frowned, but he was determined to make Mizuki see that this was something to celebrate.

"Okay, sheesh, I spar all the time. I don't know what your point is. You could beat me easy, you're way more advanced than I am, so why do you have to prove it?"

"Less talking more walking, hurry up. You'll see." He took Iruka's hand; they sometimes held hands when they walked, but this was different. It reminded Iruka uncomfortably of the usual reason his mother took his hand, to pull him along for discipline when she wanted to make sure he didn't have an opportunity to bolt.

It really, really felt just like it. They closer they got to the training field the more the back of his neck prickled with sweat.

"Mizuki?" Iruka asked quietly, his wrist beginning to protest from being jerked roughly. "Are you angry with me?"

The older boy stopped short and spun him in his tracks. "This isn't a game. You can die in the field. And worse. People do every day. Hell, being skilled isn't even a guarantee. Look at your parents, hn? People may think they were hacks, getting blown away so easily, but they might have been first-class shinobi and it wouldn't have mattered."

Iruka shook his head and quickly looked away from the flashing, pale eyes. Did Mizuki just insult his parents in their graves? His face heated in anger.

"They were first-class shinobi, and nobody thinks otherwise!" His brown eyes sparked with fire, and he wrenched his arm free.

The smile that spread across Mizuki's face was as angry as the scowl it replaced. "Quit fucking around. Fight me, little boy. Little genin-in-waiting, little hot shot. Look at you, one little insult and you're out of control already. Think the enemy will have nice things to say about you and your heritage while you're trying to kill each other? Don't they teach anything vaguely related to reality in that nursery school you call an academy?"

"Why are you doing this? Why are you being this way?" Iruka fought back tears of betrayal.

"Because I care about you, of course," the angry tone belied. He shoved Iruka forward, and once one small foot crossed the boundary of the sparring grounds, the platinum-haired shinobi attacked.

Iruka rolled, unprepared for the fight to start, coming up on his feet in a crouch grabbing for a kunai. A boot was already connecting with his shinbone with a sickening crack. His suddenly deformed leg no longer supported his weight, and it should have ended the match immediately.

Mizuki was not in the mindset for mercy. He was well aware of the celebration the newly promoted shinobi were having with their new peers. The one he wasn't invited to. The one that meant the sparring field was theirs alone for the rest of the day. He stood over Iruka, watching him roll on the ground grimacing, clutching his leg.

"You're ready to die properly now. Disabled and captured. Then comes torture. Rape. Maybe amputation. Then death."

He took his much larger hand and clamped it on Iruka's groin, a move that claimed his attention in spite of the pain. It was getting better now, the hurt and disappointment and anger melting into interest in exploiting this suddenly provocative situation. Iruka writhing on the ground was breathtaking, a distraction worthy of letting go of his original plan to beat him to a pulp to teach him a lesson about the joys of shinobi life.

His hand gripped hard, and the pain from that grip began to rival the pain from the shattered shinbone.

A very un-Iruka-like string of curses filled the air.

"You think this is that bad touch we're all supposed to pretend doesn't happen? Your enemy has no such rule. He'll do to your body whatever it takes to get his job done. This is nothing." He leaned down to whisper in Iruka's ear, undeterred by the crippled flailing that tried to push him free from his assault. "Nothing."

"Break it up!" Rat sprinted across the field, ANBU speed bringing him in contact with Mizuki before he could break off voluntarily.

"Okay, okay! We were just..."

The armored nin shoved him back without comment to kneel by the injured boy.

Iruka saw the glazed rodent mask through eyes squinting with pain. A calming hand held his shoulder for a moment before releasing him.

"Why didn't you stop and take him to the infirmary after the leg injury?" The voice was neutral behind the mask.

Mizuki shook his head, searching for the right words…this was a breach of conduct considering Iruka was so young and a much lower level nin. Inspiration hit. "I thought he was faking, I barely made the hit. I thought it was a trick to get me to drop my guard. I was trying to call his bluff."

The ANBU nodded slowly. "Well, he's not faking – that's a compound fracture."

"I'll take him right now. Iruka, hang on. We're going to take you to the hospital."

"We? You hurt him, you take him. Got it?" Rat said, almost bored in his tone of superiority. He had far better things to do than supervise stupid kids.

"Of course, ANBU-san. Grab my neck, Ru."

Iruka grabbed that neck reluctantly, allowing his body to be lifted and carried. "Thank you, ANBU-san," he said, his voice shaking in pain.

He gave Mizuki the silent treatment all the way to the hospital. The older boy signed him in, and the intake clerk's comment went unnoticed in his sullen mood.

"Back so soon?"

Mizuki frowned, but Iruka didn't seem to have heard. "Training again," he mumbled quietly. The clerk scribbled and Mizuki was relieved of his charge by a humorless orderly. He nodded to Iruka and left him to face the healing alone. The surprised, almost panicked face Iruka made when he realized the older boy wasn't going to stay with him was deeply satisfying.

That should teach him to act up when someone was just trying to educate him, Mizuki thought smugly.

o0o0o0o0o

Iruka had been moving along steadily, but now he was slowly losing his resolve. By the time he was in sight of his destination, he stopped and supported himself with a hand against the compound's wall. The healers had done a good job, the pain was bearable, and he could limp along without a crutch or cane the very next day. He was supposed to stay off of it, take a day to rest. But he couldn't relax at the teen ward; if he tried to rest there, he'd just be asking to be harassed.

He couldn't go to his usual sanctuary, either…he just wasn't sure about Mizuki right now. Everything he'd said sort of made sense, but the treatment he'd received from the older boy spoke louder than his words. It felt like he'd been punished, not trained, and he had no idea what he'd done to deserve it. Since Mizuki left after dropping him off and still hadn't been back, there had been no way to clear up what had happened. His intuition told him that even though he couldn't remember doing anything wrong, it had been anger that motivated his friend. If that were true, he'd still be upset, and something else bad could happen.
The only other place that came to mind was the Aburame's place. He wasn't sure about this either – he knew the man had something to do with his being sent to the orphanage. Sure, he'd offered to let Iruka stay here with them, but his motives weren't clear. Putting bugs on him, spying on him and trespassing, forcing him out of his house…he had many reasons to distrust the man. And it might have been his imagination, but it seemed like there was some sinister reason for those dark glasses. It would have helped to be able to see his eyes, to get a better feel of his intent. Iruka gnawed on a fingernail and waffled.

When he had trouble at his home and Aburame-san found out, it had been elevated to the higher authorities, and it had resulted in Iruka getting attention that was very much not in his best interest as far as he was concerned. If he went and asked to rest here now, there would be questions. If he gave truthful answers, there might be more trouble.

But it was the memory of being so safe when he'd hurt his head and they had taken care of him that tugged at him to go in. They had been so careful of him, like he was some little baby. He was certain that they would help him again. But the price had been too high last time.

What if they took some sort of action against Mizuki, or if they decided that Iruka had engaged in some sort of irregular training that wasn't allowed? The infirmary was far too busy to send up issues from injuries except for the most heinous of crimes. So, if they were going to get into trouble for what happened, the reason for it would likely be this visit.

The light in his liquid brown eyes shimmered. He would have liked staying in that spare room, in the safe, soft bed, listening to Shino babble and play and sometimes come up close and be so friendly and curious. The parents didn't discipline him like they should, but he didn't seem to be suffering for it. At least, not yet. It was a cruel mistake to be so lovey-dovey to a little kid like that. When his parents died in battle that boy would suffer too much. That was the curse of the open-hearted. As much as Iruka's parents had tried to strengthen him, it was his soft heart that failed him still. If he had been reared as this boy had, he could only guess at how unbearable his life would be right now.

He rested his head back against the wall. He had to face facts. He couldn't go in there after all. And he needed to find a place to lay low, away from the bullies and anyone who might question his truancy and follow up on the incident.

Mizuki was starting to look like the lesser of all these evils; he would have to go to their spot to rest after all.

Speak of the devil…

"Hey. Umino. All better?" The taller boy scanned the area casually as he sauntered up, satisfied that no one was around.

Iruka blinked at Mizuki warily. "How did you know?"

"That you were released? I went by the infirmary and you were gone." And how did I know you'd be here? Since the bugman offered to let you stay and this is where you recovered before, it was elementary deduction.

Iruka fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Mizuki was uncomfortable as well, for different reasons. He wanted Iruka away from here. The last thing they needed was supervision, and if the Aburame found out what happened, he could complicate things. And if he did end up resting here again, Iruka might start to feel at home; after all, it was certainly better than the teen ward. If Iruka lived here, it would make it very difficult to get him out for the night without arousing suspicion. He might even refuse to come out and prefer to stay home. That was beyond unacceptable.

"Are they expecting you?" Mizuki asked mildly.

Iruka shook his head, looking down.

That answer was the best one the older boy could have hoped for.

"Hey, you don't want to be hanging around here too much. Especially after we got chewed out by that ANBU. This guy'll make a negative report to the academy. You wanted to advance, didn't you? This could screw that up for you. I'm surprised he hasn't gotten you expelled already, what with the problem at your house. If he forgot to report that, you sure don't want to be reminding him. You should make sure he doesn't see your face until after you promote."

Iruka slumped against the wall and nodded. The injury was starting to hurt more and disobeying the order to rest had not been a good idea. It wasn't for lack of trying to find a safe place to comply.

"Kid, you're still messed up. Here." Mizuki held out a hand. "Come on, don't be proud. You'll just make it worse. Aren't you supposed to be taking it easy?" He punctuated that offered hand with a smile.

I shiver of relief went through Iruka's thin frame when he saw that smile. The comfort of knowing that he had their shared sanctuary to escape to had been returned. He took the hand and let Mizuki put an arm around his waist to help support his weight. Before he could protest, he was being pulled along a little too fast for comfort away from the compound in the direction of their spot in the woods.

This close call impressed upon Mizuki that, while he had most of the variables in Iruka's situation covered, he would have to be diligent in keeping watch for potential threats. Iruka was adorable, smart, funny, obedient and caring. Those traits were quite evident. It would no doubt tempt others in all sorts of ways, ways that might interfere with their relationship. He would have to be careful to keep Iruka convinced that Mizuki could provide him with everything that he needed, and that no other could be trusted. It helped tremendously that Iruka's disrupted existence made it harder for him to cope with people, and that his classmates had responded to his plight as a homeless orphan by avoiding or harassing him, making him an outcast.

"Iruka-kun," Mizuki's deeper voice rumbled into Iruka's neck, making him shiver and laugh nervously. "I just hate it that you got hurt. You do forgive me, don't you? I'm just way too good at training. My teammates just expect that it will mean a trip to the infirmary when we train."

The ponytail bobbed as he nodded. It felt so much better to have the situation resolved. When they reached their spot, Mizuki was so gentle and kind. He even insisted on watching over him while he slept, and gave him the pills from the hospital that made the world fade away and brought the painless sanctuary of sleep.

The look of great happiness that the platinum-haired shinobi wore as he watched closely over Iruka, waiting for the pills to take effect, was comforting indeed. Iruka counted his blessings once more for having such a good friend to take all this time to help him when he just couldn't seem to keep his guard up again.

o0o0o0o0o

He knew that he didn't do as he had been told. Too much standing around and walking. The next morning, he felt sore all over, and still groggy from the painkillers. Mizuki must have been worried, because he had obviously spent the night there, too. It gave Iruka a little pang of guilt. After he had been thinking such suspicious things, Mizuki had shown such selflessness.

"Hey," Mizuki said softly, rolling on his side and resting gentle fingertips on Iruka's cheek. They'd slept with bedrolls zipped together; the older boy must have brought them from home but Iruka couldn't recall it at all. The chill morning air leaked in a bit from the movement. It made getting up seem even less appealing. "I'd love to stay here all day, but I have duty. You might want to stay here, though. I don't think you're ready to go back to school quite yet."

Iruka groaned softly. "They only gave me one day's excuse."

"I'll go by the academy and tell the office. You stay and recover just a bit more." He playfully poked the end of the scarred nose and smiled.

"But…" Iruka shifted guiltily.

"Ru. It's my fault you're hurt. Let me make it right?" Mizuki's smile was kind, and his voice was hushed, making the moment feel intimate and sweet.

The feeling of being cared for tickled perilously in the younger boy's stomach. Mizuki's pale eyes were looking deeply into his. So much attention, and he was so starved for it. He wasn't sure why he had any hesitation at the prospect of accepting this relationship. They weren't equals by any means; but still, the more advanced shinobi was willing to make him his partner. He knew of several tight teams of two or three nin among the mature shinobis, clockwork performers in the field and inseparable companions at leisure. Some even shared apartments. To make a connection like this so young was considered a blessing. There were a few teams that had formed up already among Iruka's contemporaries, like Izumo and Kotetsu, so why not him and Mizuki? The other kids in his class didn't seem to have much use for him. He was so lucky that fate had brought them together. It seemed like it was time to stop questioning it.

When Mizuki took his hand, warm under the cover, he allowed it. He timidly squeezed it to return the sentiment.

The effect was immediate. Mizuki's unbridled delight was almost too much. He pulled Iruka to him in an embrace, ignoring the startled resistance.

"I'm sorry, I do have to go. I sure don't want to." With that, he placed a kiss on Iruka's forehead and reluctantly crawled out from the slice of heaven he'd carved for himself.

Iruka was looking up at him, wide-eyed from the display of affection.

"We fit together well, Iruka-kun," Mizuki smiled, straightening his undershirt and shaking out his folded clothes. He was well-muscled already, impressive in the sleeveless tank, his body much more mature in comparison. The brisk morning air didn't seem to bother him at all. "We make a good team. It's like we've always been like this."

Silence greeted that comment. Iruka was so lost in his reactions he had nothing to say. It wasn't that he didn't agree; but it seemed that way to the older boy.

"You don't have a lot of options. Trying to make it on your own with no partner, when you have no clan or anybody, that's stupid. It goes against all the teachings, too, you know. We're comrades. It's our duty to team up if it maximizes our potential. Is that a problem?"

"N-no. No, I'm glad we can be a team."

"Good!" Mizuki, dressed out and ready to go, squatted down and traced a finger down Iruka's neck, following the bare skin until his now-cold hand found its way into the very warm region under the covers. He took the hand that came up in reflex and gave it a squeeze before letting it go and standing to leave. "Rest today, Ru-kun. See you when I'm off-duty."

Iruka was left to wrestle with his next move. It seemed that the sleeping bag began to fill with ghosts.

His parents, of course, would be disapproving and severe that he had hesitated to get up for even a moment. He was due back at class. He was not dead, dying nor confined in the hospital. Therefore, he needed to go to school.

His Mikoko-baachan would tell him to rest and take good care of his body, because it was a valuable tool of great worth to the community, and the precious residence of his heart and soul, for which there was no replacement.

His classmates would harass him today for showing up injured. Or they would harass him tomorrow because he didn't show up today. No difference there.

His teacher, given the message that he was out ill, never seemed to care one way or the other, either.

Aburame-san would have encouraged him to rest, but left it up to him.

And Mizuki really wanted him to stay put; they had just patched things up after their misunderstanding. He didn't want to cause another one.

Iruka made a conscious decision to do something against his parents' wishes; and for the first time in his life, it was because there was someone else he chose to please instead of them.

He decided that it was more important to cooperate with Mizuki, his new partner, than to follow the projected expectations of his parents. As he nestled back down into the warmth of the bag and winced at the ache in his tailbone and leg, he tried to convince himself that this decision was a sign of maturity. He wasn't his parents' little boy anymore, anyway. They had left him alone, with no guardian, with no provisions for his care. They must have thought him mature enough to be on his own; so he was free to do as he saw fit, and to make new alliances to replace his family ties. Surely they had no idea that he would end up like this; their guidance never covered such a situation. But he was resourceful and adaptive, and he was adapting to this as best he could.

The soft lining had a slight unique scent of its owner, and Iruka was comforted that he recognized this scent easily now. They were building experiences together, getting more familiar, learning about each other. It was all new and a great feeling, even with the odd moments and moods. Mizuki's brave statements about liking Iruka made it so much easier to believe in him and trust him; after all, he was trusting Iruka not to make fun of him for being so open and honest.

He began to fall back asleep, vaguely puzzled at being so tired after half a day plus a full night of sleep but deciding that the recovery must have been stealing away his energy. Once again, his friend knew best - Mizuki was vindicated in his opinion that more time was needed to heal.

o0o0o0o0o

After that incident, things improved between them. Mizuki was comfortable with things as they stood now. So long as Iruka was in that six-month period, accelerated or not, he was still pre-genin and far lower-ranked. His lower rank seemed to show in his clumsy, coltish accidents that kept landing him in the walk-in, the emergency room, the doctor's office, or under his friend's adequate combat first aid.

Mizuki never judged him, even as his classmates cruelly chided him for the bandages, the absences, even the occasional dizzy spell or loss of consciousness at school. He was sympathetic, helpful, and never shy about changing bandages or helping with adapting clothes around casts or slings. He was the best friend Iruka could ever have imagined.

They met at the riverbank again, Mizuki grinning in delight at the sight of Iruka in only his shirt and underpants, sucking the thumb he'd just pierced with the sewing needle. Iruka grinned right back, so wide his eyes closed in happy crescents.

"They make fun of me, but I can't help it. I don't have a mom to mend my pants all perfect, but I do a pretty good job. I'm so lucky I have you for a friend. Why doesn't it bother you to be seen with me?"

"They're idiots. They don't see you, Iruka. You're different, sure, but in a good way." He stood back a moment, taking in the sight of the long, tan legs, noting how they were starting to take on some definition.

"What way?"

"It's hard to explain. It's just you. You're important to me. Just take my word for it, kiddo, you have a very positive effect on my life, and I can't imagine anyone else ever taking your place." Mizuki stepped close and tapped the end of Iruka's nose playfully. "So, what'd you do to get them to stop?"

"Mooned the teacher. I have afternoon detention and I have to pick up trash at lunchtime for a week, but it was worth it. Nobody's worried about what my pants look like anymore, they're just wondering when they'll drop again!"

"See, how can anyone resist you? Clever and entertaining!"

Iruka's answering grin and enthusiastic hug squeezed a laugh out of the larger boy.

"Settle down!" Mizuki said, smacking Iruka playfully on the top of the head. "Don't make me hurt you."

Iruka squeaked in pretend upset at the thump on the head. "Big threat! You'd never hurt me on purpose."

"Of course not, not really." Mizuki reached into his backpack, pulling out a bottle. "Look here, I brought something different."

"Hey, where'd you get that? We're not old enough to drink."

"Yeah, right. If I'm old enough to cut somebody's head off to make money for the old man, I'm old enough to drink. You're old enough to make your own decisions. Not old enough, that's crap. Here, try it."

Iruka pushed the bottle back. "No, I don't think I'd better. What if the sensei found out? I mean, what would he think?"

"He'd think you drank something, big deal. They don't care, have a clue. Come on, don't be a lightweight. Take a shot."

"But I thought you were going to practice tracking me again. That was fun yesterday!" He looked cross-eyed at the dark printing. The label said bourbon, that wasn't even a drink he'd heard of. Sake, everybody drank sake, and it wasn't all brown and heavy like this. Iruka sniffed and turned his head away quickly, his face scrunched up from the smell. "Yuck!"

Mizuki's eyes flashed in anger.

"I'm sorry!" Iruka said. "I just didn't expect that smell!" He held his breath and took a burning swallow, choking on the unexpected impact of the alcohol in his throat.

Mizuki took the bottle from him and took a showy swig, in actuality only letting the barest dribble in his mouth.

"Takes practice," he said smugly. Iruka was still choking, eyes watering. Mixers, Mizuki thought with irritation. Next time, cut it with a mixer. He rubbed the heaving shoulder a little too firmly.

"Let's just spend the night out here, what do you say?"

Iruka nodded, not quite able to speak yet. The mouthful of booze had progressed to his stomach for the most part, radiating a peculiar warmth. In a few minutes he felt a little more open, slightly relaxed.

Mizuki pitched a pebble into the stream, his eyes distant. He absently watched Iruka, the setting sun, the flowing water.

"Thanks for staying out here with me tonight. I didn't want to go back."

"I like taking care of you, Ru. Don't even think about it." Mizuki was only partially satisfied with the results of alcohol. Enough to put Iruka out of it would be enough to make him ill, now and the next day as well. The instructors might notice. Iruka would be resistant. There had to be another answer to bringing him under complete control.

The problem was complicated. When he tried a suppression jutsu after Iruka fell asleep, it worked, but he couldn't hold it if he got too into the activities. Sure, using pulse points to knock him out worked for now, but too many times and the cumulative effect could become apparent and spoil everything. There had already been a few mishaps.

He was able to hold him tight all night tonight, though, something that would have made the kid too uncomfortable without the booze. That only served to make Mizuki uncomfortable in a much more specific way. In the largely sleepless night, the strapping chunin's brain wrestled with the problem again…and he hit on an idea. The idea grew into a carefully considered plan.

The next morning, Mizuki met with the training coordinator and launched into his request. Because he had been passed over for jounin promotion, he needed an edge. A specialty. He was talented in the sciences, and wanted to focus on chemistry: poisons, poisoned weaponry and chemical-based jutsus. He did love lab work; truly, he had taken extra classes and worked as an aide in the lab when he was younger. He wanted to be tutored and have self-directed study as intensive preparation to ready his skills for the next selections. Mizuki was far and away one of the strongest shinobi of his age group in chakra and physical strength, and number one in termination skills. He lacked in stability, reliability, and the fact that he had no specialty.

He submitted that he could address all three shortcomings working at the lab. The coordinator, seeing no harm in it, concurred. Pandora's Box was open now, and Mizuki had full access to the dangerous delights within.

tbc