Betas: ashcat (here at fanfiction[dot]net ) and txilar (at livejournal[dot]com).

Additional AN: This chapter might seem slow because it persists in focusing on Iruka; forgive my indulgence.

Chapter 6: The Measure of Time
Time has been transformed, and we have changed; it has advanced and set us in motion; it has unveiled its face, inspiring us with bewilderment and exhilaration.
-Kahlil Gibran

Iruka fell into a daily routine that was so boring he was ready to scream his head off after only one week of being locked up in the Hatake home... but he endured it with an attempt at poise as the days crawled past almost inexorably. After all, this was for his own protection and more importantly, that of the baby.

Every morning, he would awaken before dawn and do some light stretching. His growing stomach made this slightly awkward, but Iruka wanted to maintain at least a nominal level of fitness. He would breathe in and out very slowly, moving his limbs through deliberate and practiced motions as the sun rose and filled the room with warm light; even though it irked his pride to do so, he stuck to low-level katas, beginner moves, in fact.

Then, he would pad out of the small, ground-floor suite; this particular room had been open and waiting when Naruto and Sasuke had done a thorough check of all the levels on the day of their arrival. He had been surprised at the state of the rooms; he knew that Kakashi had an apartment in the jōnin barracks of the village, so he had assumed that this compound didn't see too much attention from the Copy-nin. However, apart from the courtyard that had been overgrown, the buildings had been obviously well-kept; he had noticed where some sections of columns, walls and sliding doors had been recently repaired.

He would pass the now-tidy courtyard on his way to the main kitchens; Naruto had set into it with a vengeance on the second day, leaves and grass flying in the air while Iruka and Sasuke had looked on with a mixture of bemusement and exasperation. Now there was clear water trickling through the stone fountain and the tall bushes tamed. Iruka often wondered if he would be here long enough to grow some koi in the serene little pond.

The massive cooking area must have seen an army of cooks in its heyday, but now it echoed when Iruka prepared his morning tea and breakfast. Groceries were brought on a weekly basis by the ANBU guards, Iruka always trying to hand them money out of his carefully hoarded savings and the ANBU refusing to take it, declaring that Iruka's expenses were now taken care of by the village. Iruka hated that; he didn't want to be 'taken care of', he wanted to be self-sufficient. In any case, he would make sure to have at least one meal ready for his ANBU guards; he still didn't know who Aki and Haru were, and he never stared at them when they appeared at the kitchen door and dived towards the large breakfast that Iruka spread over the counter-top.

If Natsu and Fuyu were on duty, Iruka would be certain to have ramen, much to Naruto's endless happiness and Sasuke's resignation. Then, when they were all finished eating, Iruka took his daily walk on the wide, fenced-in field at the back of the property; the ANBU would lurk in the early morning shadows as Iruka inspected the abandoned garden tucked in one corner near the back-corridor of the compound. Possibly, he could plant some tomatoes there very soon. He wouldn't venture too far out; he could see the active farmlands beyond the border of the Hatake estate, and there were a few times that he spotted small distant figures which were undoubtedly farmers hard at work. He wouldn't want them to spot him in... well, in his current, pregnant state.

Once, though, when he had ascertained that the farmers had left their fields for the day, he had trekked carefully down the gentle slope. He had been inspecting the topography of the land when the wards had buzzed around him in alarm. Iruka had flinched, more surprised than afraid. He hadn't realized that the protective family shields extended so far and he wasn't sure why they were reacting this way. The wards calmed down, as if they realized that they had startled him; Iruka had let out a chuckle when he recognized what the problem was.

"I'm not going to leave," he said aloud, feeling just a bit silly for talking to layers of seals, of all things. "Don't worry. I won't wander off."

The wards hummed in contentment and settled down back to their usual quiet state as he turned around and went back to the house. It was a pity that they couldn't actually talk to him.

After a sizeable lunch, he would have a studying-session, of a sorts; Iruka would enter the small library that was accessed by a door in his suite and either continue a text he had been perusing the day before or start a new one. He wondered if this set of rooms had belonged to the master of the household; it certainly appeared so. That meant that Kakashi's father had lived in these rooms and probably even Kakashi himself. Iruka wondered what kind of books Kakashi liked to read when he stayed here, before trying to control his thoughts. Yet, he couldn't help a little smile when he found a few books of fairy-tales and myths, with a clumsy script declaring that these were once the property of Kakashi Hatake, aged five.

What a precocious child he must have been, Iruka mused as he flipped through the pages. He could almost imagine a tiny, fair-haired boy demanding a story from his father. Iruka's smile had dimmed at that point; his father would have been on constant missions at that time... and Kakashi himself would have been at school, putting childhood to one side and taking up arms on the other. Iruka had replaced the book on the shelf, hating this unsettled feeling that had settled on his shoulders.

When he grew tired of reading, he explored the other rooms in the house. He found what was undoubtedly Kakashi's boyhood room: instead of boxes of well-worn favourite toys in the closets, he only saw neatly folded shinobi clothing, well-patched and piled in the cupboards, along with damaged gear that had been made for a shorter, smaller frame and were not appropriate for a grown person now. Iruka vowed that, as much as possible, he would let his child have a lot of simple, honest fun.

To be quite frank, he would probably spoil his child rotten, because he remembered how his mother had treated him: she would sweep into their modest house, still dressed in her shinobi-gear and gather him into her arms. Her voice was like the comforting trickle of a stream as she sang in a strange tongue that Iruka could nonetheless comprehend. She had sung to him of the water, of the sky and the trees; she sang to him of his father and himself, her little brave 'Ruka-Blue.

At dinner-time, Iruka would head into the kitchen again, tied back the loose, wide sleeves of his dark yukata to prepare more food. He hadn't been much of a cook, but he had located a rolled-up sheaf of parchment filled with simple recipes, written in an elegant hand. He followed these recipes and was proud to know that he was very good at following directions ...and even better at adding to them.

During the sixth week, he started talking to the baby. His bodyguards must have thought him insane upon hearing him ramble on while he chopped and mixed ingredients. He related stories about and from his mother and father, imparting those tales from Mist they had carried over as their only family heirloom and sharing fables from the forests of Konoha. He repeated lessons he had taught for years at the Academy, telling the baby about the best way to track a wounded animal through the plains and how to use a broken broomstick as a weapon. He even made up a few himself; his favourite was about a little dragon princess or prince that left their secret land, growing up to be a strong Konoha shinobi, protecting their village to the best of their ability.

There were times he wished he could talk to Naruto, too; but Natsu showed up more than Naruto did, a strong silent presence with Fuyu. Iruka attempted to maintain a professional distance from the ANBU, though, speaking to them only when it was absolutely necessary. They were his bodyguards, or rather, the baby's bodyguards... but he felt so isolated.

It was surprising how this whole situation was so difficult for him to deal with; but not so long ago, he had enjoyed the town's attention. People of all ages had hailed him as he moved from one place to another, and he found that he missed that. He had always thought himself to be a person that loved to be left alone, like Kakashi (oh, how it hurt him to even think about that name, but he kept doing it) but apparently this was not so. He missed his classes, the bright faces of his students, the banter of his colleagues and the greetings of his neighbours.

He wondered what they all were doing now; even after all this time of living on the Hatake compound, he still couldn't decide if he was angry at the fact that he had to be hidden and protected, or resigned to his fate.

He also missed Kakashi and he could only admit this when he was about to go to sleep. He would go to bed fairly early if he didn't have to endure an examination from either Tsunade or Toshiaki; stretched out on the low, flat mattress, he couldn't help but wonder if Kakashi had slept in this same comfortable bed from time to time, and if he curled into a pillow the way he used to curl into Iruka. Blue continued to be distressed, sending waves of unhappiness radiating into Iruka's mind until he had to force himself to sleep, just to escape from Blue's simplistic need. He knew that Blue was just one facet of his own personality, but it was upsetting to understand just how much Blue missed Silver.... and how that translated into his own distinctly human feelings.

Iruka was so lonely; so very lonely. He never even begged to be taken out, though, not even when he was told that he could make up a list of what he needed for himself and the child, whatever he needed. He could have asked that they disguise him so that he could go back to the town and immerse himself in the lively beat; but he simply told them that he needed to think about all the items and left it at that. He wasn't quite sure, anyway, but there had been a book in the library that seemed to be of some help.

Most of his loneliness pertained directly to his own singularity. He was a pregnant, male, human-dragon hybrid. There was probably no other being in the world like him; no one else would understand what he was going through. If his mother was alive, then he would have been able to talk to her, to share how uncomfortable he sometimes felt in his own skin, how he had sat on the bed on one occasion before bed and let tears run down his cheeks... not because he felt weak or it was a womanly thing to do (and therefore he should, because being pregnant was normally a womanly undertaking... a feat which he thought was turning out to be fairly intense indeed), but simply because a person just had to cry sometimes.

And one day he simply couldn't take it any more.

"Natsu-san," he asked one morning as the ANBU changed shifts and Natsu inspected the pots eagerly. "Would it be possible to request a visit to Kurenai-sensei?"

Natsu stopped rummaging and turned, tilting his head. "As you wish, Iruka-sensei," the ANBU answered calmly, and not for the first time Iruka marvelled at how different Natsu and Naruto were, to the point where Iruka thought of them as two separate beings. Then, in a far softer tone (more Naruto and less Natsu), the ANBU said, "You... are lonely?"

Iruka smiled, trying to be braver than he felt. "Not so lonely, no."

Natsu regarded him steadily. In the doorway to the courtyard, Fuyu stood dour guard, the edge of his cloak flapping in the crisp breeze.

"I'm sorry Naruto can't be around more, to keep you company," Natsu finally said, his tones deeply regretful. That brought a smile to Iruka's face; obviously, Naruto and Natsu were indeed two separate people, even to Naruto himself. "He wishes he was less busy with other missions and... he always sends his love."

Iruka grinned outright, warmed inside and out. "And I always send my love to him."

Natsu nodded. "I will inform the Hokage."

Aki and Haru fetched Kurenai after lunch that same day, after the Hokage sent a response indicating that she had been awaiting his contact for quite some time now. Iruka hurried out to the front gates when he felt a trembling in the wards which indicated that there was someone outside, to whom he had not given constant access privileges like the ANBU; as the great gates opened, Iruka saw Kurenai standing on the outside, her small child held securely in her slender arms.

"This is Kurenai and Hiru-chan," he said to the wards, one hand pressed on the seals as usual. "Please let them pass."

The wards humped companionably under his fingers and there was that low, tuneless him that indicated their acquiescence.

"Hello, Iruka-sensei." Kurenai's tone was neutral as her red gaze flickered quickly behind his shoulder, where an ANBU was most likely hovering. Hiru-chan goggled openly; he was a plump little thing, with big brown eyes and wispy black hair.

He reached out a chubby fist, yelled, "BU!" and looked up in his mother's face for approval.

"Yes, ANBU," Kurenai answered calmly as she stepped through the gates. "They were the ones who brought us here. And I suppose one of them will place some kind of seal on me to ensure my silence."

"I'm not sure," Iruka hedged, trying to be polite even when he knew that that was very a likely outcome at the end of her visit. He withstood her sharp gaze as it raked over his body, taking in the dark yukata and how the cotton sash was wrapped fairly high on the rise of his stomach. "Would you like some tea?" he asked when her silent inspection was complete.

"Thank you. That would be nice."

She followed him into the kitchen, but said briskly, "No, you sit down, Iruka and I'll get the tea. Here, hold him," and the baby was handed over quite unceremoniously. Surprised, Iruka held the baby out at arms' length for a moment before locating a nearby stool and sitting down. Little Hiruzen Yūhi twisted anxiously as Iruka finally held him close. He made faces, held out both arms for his mother and let out fussing noises before abruptly resigning himself to the inevitability of Iruka's lap. Iruka gazed into his face; he resembled his father and the Third Hokage that he had been named after. Iruka was probably very biased, but he had always liked that name.

Iruka touched his hair and fou nd it to be as soft as it looked. To him, the baby's apparent fragility and smallness was such a huge consideration. Iruka fretted; was he holding the baby properly? What if little Hiruzen lunged for something and Iruka let him fall? It hit Iruka that soon, he would be holding his own child in this manner; that thought made him feel extremely elated and afraid all at once. The baby reached up and grabbed Iruka's fingers, dragging his hand down to peer at it as if he was some infant palm-reader.

"What is it like?" Iruka murmured when Kurenai set down two steaming teacups on the tiled eating-counter out of Hiruzen's reach and sat beside him.

"It's like the best and worst mission you will ever undertake," Kurenai said. "At times I wonder, what if I'm doing everything wrong? Will he grow up to be good or bad?" She sipped at her tea in a meditative manner. "I thought it would be easy, but I find that I am overwhelmed. I'm lucky to have Shikamaru and Hinata helping me... and Gai and Lee as well."

"Gai-sensei?" Iruka chuckled incredulously; Kurenai grinned and stood up, one hand perched on her hip and the other hand stuck out in a firm thumbs-up.

"Gai-sensei believes that Hiruzen will grow up in the full power of youth!" She boomed in a fairly good approximation of Gai's exuberant tone. The baby clapped his hands and giggled. Kurenai shrugged as she returned to her seat. "You think it's funny, don't you, my darling." She leaned close to nuzzle her nose against Hiruzen's; the baby giggled some more, both hands pressed onto his mother's cheeks. "But Gai-sensei is very serious."

From the way Hiru-chan laughed, it was obvious that he would always find Gai-sensei to be the embodiment of hilarity. His merriment danced around the corners of the kitchen, seeming to lighten the shadows that lurked at the corners of the ceiling. Iruka bounced him a little and then tickled him; Hiruzen was such a wriggly little bundle of fun.

"I feel very lucky to have him," Kurenai said. "I can look at my son and see Asuma. That is good." Her expression was peaceful and for a long moment they simply sat there in silence; the baby discovered the material of Iruka's sleeves and began to gnaw on them.

Kurenai began speaking again in her practical manner about a range of subjects, like wet-nursing, since Iruka would probably not produce milk. She spoke of the sleepless nights when the baby was much smaller, but the shinobi training they had all undergone had been quite a help. As she talked, her eyes would rest on the baby from time to time; she would smile at him, lovingly, and Iruka wondered if that same expression would ever cross his own features.

A sudden sensation occurred in his stomach just as he thought this. Iruka actually said, "Oh!" in a soft tone and placed one hand flat against the cotton sash. It felt as if a crowd of tiny butterflies were flapping happily in there. Hiruzen babbled up at him as Iruka's eyes widened; then he put his head against Iruka's chest as if he was trying to discern a coded message.

"The baby is moving!" Kurenai told Hiruzen with a grin. Hiru-chan nodded seriously.

"Bay-di," he repeated in his rough baby-voice and went back to his all-important listening.

The fluttering feeling faded away very soon... but even as Kurenai continued with her impromptu parenting lecture, Iruka kept that one hand pressed to his stomach, waiting for it to happen again.

When she was preparing to leave, Iruka said, "I hope that the both of you can visit me again," and wished his voice didn't sound so desperate. He was just so happy to have her company, even though he and Kurenai-sensei hadn't interacted much in his 'other' life. Kurenai's expression was mostly surprised and then she smiled; in that moment, she appeared impossibly beautiful. Even her son gazed up in her face, entranced.

"I hope so too," she said solemnly and held out her free hand towards Iruka, who took it. "Even if they seal me into silence, I really hope I can help as much as I can." She smiled again. "Izumo and Kotetsu miss you... and your classes do too. And Genma." She bounced Hiruzen in her arm. "Nearly every one does."

Have you seen Kakashi? Does he miss me? Iruka wondered and Blue twisted miserably in his head, but he simply returned her smile.

He simply replied, "I miss them, too."