Naruto's life before Iruka had held few distinctions. He'd lived. He'd woken up in the morning, played when it was time to play, ate when it was time to eat, and he slept when the sad, overworked people who ran the orphanage said it was bedtime.
For a penniless orphan with no friends; his comfort had come in the form of a small monthly published comic book. The Adventures of Captain Kakashi had thrilled the young orphan. He'd spent every dollar he earned from the odd jobs he sometimes worked on that tiny little tri-colored booklet. The one hundred and some odd page publication had tantalized his eager imagination with tales of valor, stories of good overcoming evil, true love conquering all, honor and truth.
Of course, there had been other popular superheroes at the time. He'd enjoyed the tales of the XYZ men and had even stashed a few of 'Superior Woman's' comics under his bed. But none could compare to Captain Kakashi.
Naruto had idolized the man, respected his humility and selflessness and he had loved him for one fundamental truth. Captain Kakashi had started out just like Naruto: an orphan with no friends and no one to turn to. But instead of becoming bitter, Kakashi had risen above his meager beginnings; the man had taken on the mantle of courage and honor and paid the price for his choice. For Kakashi had lost an eye while defending his friend from the attack of a brutish thug. In the end, his friend had died when the building they had been fighting in, weakened by the ferocity of the assault, collapsed. But just before he died, Kakashi's friend had given him a gift: an eye made out of celestial ruby to replace the one that he had lost. The eye would give Kakashi the power to copy any super power that he saw once.
At the time, Naruto hadn't really thought about how unfair this was to the other superheroes who only got one or two powers, but was instead, immensely jealous of the man's incredible abilities. Although, in the end, it seemed that no one really took the cheesiness factor into consideration, because two short years after the comic was released, a Captain Kakashi movie came to theaters. Which Naruto had begged and pleaded with his tired guardian's to let him go see. The graphics had been terrible, the acting worse, the storyline weaker than wet soba…and Naruto had enjoyed every second.
The blond had inherited powers of his own a few scant years later. And Captain Kakashi, illustrious paragon of all that was good in the world, had become more than a hero to a confused orphan boy that grizzly night. He had become a soul mate.
The blond knew that the famed hero of truth, justice and the ninja way was not real. He could not come through the paper and comfort the orphan boy with calm words and reassuring embraces. But he could show Naruto how to live better than anyone else in the world with the gifts and talents that fate had bestowed upon him.
To Naruto, the hero with a super powered eye was his icon, his role model in life and eventually, for his career in crime fighting. He'd even taken a few of the Captain's costume ideas into play while he was designing his own. Well, at least his new costume was a tad more subtle than his first. Although that unfortunate choice in apparel would be a secret the blond was planning to take to his grave and all that he would ever even admit to himself was that in his younger years, he'd had a frightening fetish for the color orange.
Yes, his redesigned costume was a vast improvement; it was all black, and mostly leather. The pants and boots he'd picked up from a friend who worked with hides and sold all his own products. The jacket had been Iruka's, from a bygone age, far before the straight-edged brunette had ever met the dejected orphan boy whom he was destined to foster. Naruto had actually stolen it out of Iruka's closet just before he'd left on his long two year sabbatical to parts unknown. It was silly, but in hindsight, the blond supposed that he'd wanted something of his father to carry with him for the long-term trip. When he'd come home, the Uzumaki had been certain Iruka would demand his jacket back, but to the blonds' eternal surprise and gratitude, his father had smiled that knowing smile of his and told the man to keep it.
The only part of his costume which wasn't made out of an animal was his shirt/mask. He'd gotten the inspiration from his Captain Kakashi comics and had actually worked the material himself. He wasn't really sure about how one got a hold of the flame retardant, cold resistant, bulletproof cloth that the Captain always had to make his gear, but so was life.
Given the importance of the cartoon character in Naruto's life, it would have pleased the blond more than to meet the most important hero in the world. However, when Naruto entered his father's apartment around six o'clock in the afternoon, the last person he expected to see sitting on his father's old beat-up green couch, reading an X-rated novel was his childhood hero.
And of course Naruto did the only thing that any self-respecting fan suddenly confronted with their idol would do: he stood dumbly in the entrance between the front hall and the living room for a solid five minutes, staring at the man on the couch who took no notice of him, while trying to think of something intelligent to say.
Which was exactly how Iruka had found his son: standing straight up as if someone had shoved an iron rod down to replace his spine, the blonds' coat still in his hands, his wide crystalline eyes riveted to the guest, his mouth working furiously open and closed as if he were trying to say something, but couldn't seem to connect some key pathway between his brain and vocal cords.
The brunette had given the blond man a quick hug which brought the man somewhat back to reality and had ushered Naruto into the living room.
"Hatake Kakashi, I would like you to meet my foster son. This is Uzumaki Naruto."
A still dazed blond shook the proffered and had mumbled something incoherent in acknowledgement. But the guest smiled all the same, an honest smile filled with affection that reached to his eye.
They all had gone into the dining room then, sitting down to one of Iruka's famous (at least in Naruto's mind) home-cooked meals. The appealing aromas of ham steaks, buttered mashed potatoes, hot rolls and steaming green beans had all wafted together to form the most tantalizing odor Naruto had smelled in a long time.
They all said blessing and dug in; the warm food and the equally felicitous company making table talk an easy affair.
It was during this polite dinner conversation that Uzumaki Naruto found out that Hatake Kakashi bore more than just a passive resemblance to his favorite childhood superhero.
"You what?" The blond nearly choked on the bite of ham he'd been chewing.
"I modeled for the comic." Kakashi eased a loaded fork under the handkerchief he apparently never took off. The man chewed thoughtfully and will obvious relish before continuing.
"It was an unfortunate series of events that led up to the actual job. I never would have considered answering that stupid ad in the first place. But…well, let's just say that between being unemployed for three months, and having your best friend triple dog dare you on pain of losing your manly pride, I didn't have many options at my immediate disposal."
"So…" Naruto eyed the man, keenly interested in the man's answer. "Do you still model?"
"Good grief no!" Kakashi said forcefully, as if horrified that Naruto had even asked. "I got out of that frightening business as fast as I could, before the first issue was even published if I remember correctly. I'm a detective with the Konoha PD."
"Ah," The blond tried not to let his disappointment show. He knew the story all too well. It was too bad that Iruka had chosen to become friends with such an obvious low-life. If this guy was a cop, he was no good. It was just how things worked nowadays in Konoha.
More for the sake of keeping the flow of conversation than out of any real interest, Naruto asked. "So, what kind of case are you working on right now detective?" How many donuts are lost between the counter and a policeman's stomach? He thought snidely to himself. Or maybe he was looking into the disappearance of coins into parking meters. Everyone in the city limits knew that the police were for show anymore, or worse: in the pocket of one or more of the gangs. It was those illegal organizations who basically ran Konoha behind the scenes, they at least had the decency to elect their own puppet officials, unlike some of the gangs in other provinces. Naruto had even heard rumors during his time away that the leader of a 'Sand' gang called Shukaku had gotten elected as the prime minister, or whatever it was that they called their head honcho over in that part of the country.
"I'm looking into a recent string of violent crime related to a gang calling themselves the Akatsuki."
Naruto paused, fork half-way to his mouth. The memory of last night flashed into his mind. The voice had mentioned that name just before disappearing into the darkness and distant haze. "The Akatsuki won't wait for long…" Naruto had wondered if they were real, if in fact they hadn't just been made up. That no longer appeared to be the case. If this guy was working on a case involving this group, it certainly gave Boss Hebi's claim more of a foundation. With a start, Naruto realized he'd been staring at the man again. He gulped and forced a nonchalant smile. Trying to hide his embarrassment, the blond asked. "Oh, really, how's that going?"
"Not well," Kakashi confessed, stirring the remnants of his meal around the flat porcelain dish. "The gang is new to Konoha, but very well established in other parts and used to running illegal operations. Apparently, they have built a reputation as a very powerful group merely on torture and death. If they even suspect anyone of being a mole, that person is as good as buried. In fact, the person is better off buried alive from what little I've been able to wriggle out of my contacts. They are vicious and brutal in their punishments and have never been heard to shy away from what most other gangs would consider 'over the top' retribution. There was actually an incident a day or two ago…" The cop stopped his gaze far away. He seemed to be recalling the details. "The report had been sent in, but the commissioner was going to smother the thing in paperwork so deep it would have taken it twenty years to see daylight again. But I intercepted it on the way to his office and man," Kakashi whistled. "It was bad. Sixteen or so men had been basically mowed over, cut up and then blown up. It was the sickest crime scene that I had ever seen in my twenty years as a police detective. The only problem is I'm having trouble connecting the Akatsuki to the attack."
"So they cover their tracks well?"
"Yeah, very well."
Naruto swallowed before tentatively commenting. "So the only way to get these guys is by having really good source of information, like say…another gang boss?"
Iruka's dinner guest became deadly serious. His gaze snapped to Naruto, weighing the man with his one uncovered eye.
"If we could get someone on the inside of one of these thug organizations it would give the department and incredible edge in taking out not only their drug operations, but would go a long way into stopping their violent crime before it happens. But if the head itself were willing to feed the law information…" The detective trailed off. "Why are you asking? Do you know someone-"
"Don't be silly." It was Iruka who interrupted Kakashi's question. "He's a waiter at a bistro café. Who could he possibly know connected to that seedy part of Konoha?"
"Of course," Kakashi speared a long, thin bean and brought it up to his curtained lips. "Silly me."
Naruto chuckled self-consciously, picking at his plate for the rest of the suddenly very silent dinner. He might've actually dodged a bullet as far as Kakashi was concerned. But the blond had not missed the look his foster father had given him from his seat across the table. It was the 'I am your father and we are going to talk about this later young man' look; the same one that he used to get on a daily basis in those early years of foster care.
The remainder of the evening passed pleasantly by. Desert had been as delicious as dinner, apple cobbler with homemade vanilla ice cream to go one top and once everyone had finished, Kakashi had volunteered to stay and help clean up. The man had then regaled father and son with the stories of his reckless youth. To Iruka's horror and Naruto's twisted delight (more because of his father's reaction to the story than of the actually tale.) of a few nude poses he'd undergone as Captain Kakashi which had exponentially sped his retreat from that career; and of the trouble he and his best friend Uchiha Obito had gotten into while going through police training.
Naruto had smiled at Iruka's sheltered reactions, nodded and laughed at all the appropriate places, but his mind was on other things. The Hebi leader had not lied to him. This new information had cast the entire incident in a new light.
Why had the man come to him for help? Was he that desperate? Was Akatsuki putting so much pressure on Hebi? If so, why deal with him, Kyuubi, the self-declared nemesis of all illegal gangs? Why not go to the police, or leak the information to bounty hunters? What was he missing?
Kakashi left soon after, bidding both men a pleasant night.
Naruto had discreetly headed toward the living room after the detective had bid the blond his farewell and immediately turned to the man's father.
Naruto wasn't blind and he doubted that even a blind man could've missed the affection Kakashi seemed to radiate every time his one exposed eye flicked to the brunette. Nor had Naruto missed Kakashi taking Iruka's fingers in his gloved hands before he had even begun to say 'Abiyo'.
He didn't care, Naruto told himself. He didn't care about Kakashi being a man, or his frustratingly loving smile. He didn't care about Iruka blushing to his toes every single time Kakashi gave him one of those compassionate looks. He didn't care that his father looked so happy. He didn't…he wasn't…
Jealous…
But the emotion persisted, clawing at the man's stomach, a ferocious beast that threatened to consume him.
It wasn't fair that Iruka should be so happy while Naruto sat, alone. Iruka had spent his whole life happy and now, here he was again, as carefree as a lark in a blue sly, standing at the door with his special someone.
He wasn't jealous.
Naruto had been looking, he'd been searching and looking and yearning for his precious person, for that one someone to show him true, passionate love. And he was twenty-three now…and still he waited. Would he ever find his precious person? Did that person even exist?
Iruka sauntered into the living room, a slight flush dusting his cheeks, a blissful expression covering the rest of his face. He was even humming quietly to himself.
The tune died in his throat when he spotted his son curled up on one side of the sofa. It was just like that; Naruto did this every time he was trying not to cry. Iruka had seen the blond like this many times over the long years of foster care. Some children went to their rooms, some went on walks, but Naruto had chosen the old torn up couch as his refuge. The couch was where Naruto went to wage war with himself.
"Naruto," Iruka sat in a chair opposite his foster child, the old parental instincts rising up to clutch at his heart.
"I approve." The blond said abruptly, his eyes focused directly on the white plaster wall behind the old sofa. "That's why I'm here right, to meet the guy and give my blessing? Well, I've met him, so go at it man."
"I don't' care for your tone." The brunette's voice was stern as steel and deadly calm. He let the bond's vaguely rude comment go, it was the hurt behind the words he wanted to get to. "I never let you speak to me that way when you were thirteen and I'm not about to let you start now."
Naruto closed his eyes. He didn't want his father to see the pain in his eyes, the sadness. He couldn't believe he was yelling at his father; letting his emotions get a hold of him so completely. This was unreal, this was wrong. It was not Iruka's fault that he was happy. His father could not change his reality anymore than the blond could bring his parents back from the dead.
"Naruto," The brunette tried again. "I don't want to fight about this."
"No of course you don't," Naruto said, sarcasm giving his voice a bitter edge. "Why fight over such pithy things when we both know you really want to harass me about my horrid career choice."
Iruka's eyes narrowed and the muscles in his jaw clenched before he said. "So, I suppose I was right then. You've come back after these two long years. You're back a month…maybe and you're up to your old-"
"My old what?" The blonds head whipped around and he jerked off the sofa, anger tensing every muscle in his body. "My old tricks? My old habits? What if I was? What if I am? I don't live with you anymore Iruka. It's not your job to puppy-guard me from myself; that's not your burden anymore! You've somehow managed to get me to adulthood and set me free; I thought you'd be glad to be rid of the headache!"
Silence rained down on the small living room; its dispassionate howls pounding in both men's ears.
"Is that what you think that you were?" The older man said at last, struggling down tears. "A burden?"
"No, you're right," Naruto spat contemptuously. "It was all daisies and tulips, the whole time!"
"Don't mock me." Iruka stood also. "Of course there were times when you frustrated me. Of course there were moments that I wished that I hadn't chosen to foster you, but they were moments! Every parent has those and I had a built-in excuse; you manifested superpowers for heaven's sake! No first time father could have ever anticipated that! No first-time father should've had to handle that kind of situation! I did the best that I could!"
"And look, you've done so well." The blond spread his arms wide as if revealing himself. "Congratulations."
"Hey," His father placed gentle hands on tense shoulders. "I am very proud to be your parent. I am honored to have guided such an incredible young man like you to adulthood. It was my privilege to cherish you and my joy to watch you grow."
Naruto felt tears in his eyes, stinging his nose and threatening to spill down his face. And when Iruka's arms stiffened, drawing his son forward into a tight hug, he didn't resist.
"You are my son." Iruka's fierce whisper ruffled the golden tresses covering Naruto's ear. "There is nothing you can ever do that will make me stop loving you. I just…" The confession came out quickly, surprising Naruto and Iruka a little.
"I worried so much when you were sixteen. I knew you were sneaking off; I knew what you were doing. But I let you go, because I knew that you had to bring your little bit of light to this dark and chaotic part of the world. It was all you ever talked about when you were younger, before the power even showed up. You would finish reading the latest Captain Kakashi, rush over to me and declare that you were going to save the world. I couldn't help but believe you. So I let you go, for yourself, forcing myself to believe that it would be okay and you would come back home safely to me. And every morning, I would come into your room and pray that I wouldn't find an empty bed. And every night for years, you would be there waiting, lying sprawled across your bed, safe for one more day. And then my worst fears came true and you were shot, you were hurt. When I got that call from the hospital, I thought my very soul had been torn from my body. But you were alright that time and you left and now you've come back to me. You're safe."
Iruka's hug became brutal, protective.
"If I ever lost you, if you disappeared one night, killed by some drug dealing animals and dumped in a trashcan, how could I go on? How could I live, not knowing if my son were alive or dead?" The man's voice was choked with tears, but he managed to go one, his words strained and uneven.
"And now you want to destroy the Akatsuki. How can you expect me to simply stand by and watch as you take on the most violent gang that has ever come to Konoha? How can I willingly share your light with this world when I know that this world would love nothing more than to smother and destroy it?"
"Dad," The blonds forehead had come to rest on the older man's shoulder, his fists against his father's back. He had known, the whole time; about Kyuubi, about his powers, about…everything. And now, this man who had raised him, who had done his best to shield and protect him from the few realities of this world he had not tasted, was now letting him go.
Suddenly, Naruto realized that it had not been Iruka who had needed approval tonight, but himself.
This was a farewell for them both. This was their goodbye. This was Iruka giving his blessing to a young man to walk his own path, to seek his own way. It was not the way that Iruka himself would choose, for Naruto was not Iruka, and for that, both men were profoundly grateful. But it was a path that the boy, for better or worse, had always been destined to walk. And as much as Iruka detested, as much as he fought and struggled, he could not deny the thing his precious child want the most. To show to a bleak, unfeeling world that love could steer the stars.
"He's a good man." Naruto said, shrugging into his coat, his feet already shoved into his running shoes. "One of the few left in the city. He'll take good care of you."
Iruka had the grace to blush while still wiping the quickly drying remnants of tears from his cheeks.
Naruto turned to smile at his father, a hand resting gently on the door handle. "I couldn't let you go to anyone less deserving."
And then Naruto was gone, released out into the crisp evening air as the door closed finally behind him.
The blond began to walk, in which direction he didn't care. His mind was too full with the night's events and the implications which those events cast upon the previous night. He had so much to ponder; so much to consider it hurt his brain to even think about thinking about it. But that was the difference between the sassy teen whose overconfidence got him shot, and Naruto. He had to think about this, because he wasn't going to end up dead. That just wasn't the blonds' style.
.:xXXx:.
His head lolled to one side, a broken and tattered rag doll. His thick, purple bloated tongue stuck out from between jaggedly broken and blood-stained teeth. His eyes were open wide, an expression of horror eternally set on his swollen features. His nick was blotchy and marred by deep blue-black bruises. His cloths were torn and caked with his own fluids, whether blood or urine it was hard to tell. Both had mixed in the man's final moments of panic, smearing his skin and clothing which had frozen to his body in the chill of night and oncoming winter. His legs and arms hung limply, having long since ceased their agonized struggles. A huge wooden spike had been driven savagely through the man's chest and deeply embedded into the gray concrete slab which pressed tightly against his back. Whatever blood the man had not splattered against the wall's drab surface in his short-lived death throes or himself, had been smeared over the concrete to form gruesome letters. The message was simple, warning other gangs and any other unfortunate passers-by away from taking down the corpse from its prominently displayed local.
Sasuke took it all in, his eyes flickering over every detail, his perfect alabaster face revealing none of the rage which curled in his belly. The man was one of his; of this the raven had no doubt. And that he had died at the hands of Akatsuki's was equally undeniable.
At least he was alone to witness this newest atrocity leveled at his organization. Sasuke would take some solace in the fact that he did not have to bear Karin's incessant moaning and whimpering about the state of the body. That succor was slight, and it did little to change the unfortunate man's fate, but Sasuke could not bring him any help from this side of the grave, no matter how much pity he levied at the cold carcass.
The raven turned away from the wall and its gruesome trophy. He would send men to take down the body in the morning and wash away Akatsuki's message.
He was not afraid of the consequences such action would bring to himself and his gang for two reasons. One: it appeared as though Akatsuki had already decided that Hebi was sport enough for their tastes. And two: if his plans turned out as they always did: perfectly, than Kyuubi would have spent this day and tonight affirming Akatsuki's existence. Tomorrow night, the self-proclaimed superhero would seek him out and then, Sasuke would have the meddlesome creature exactly where he wanted him. All that the gang leader had to do until then was wait patiently, a skill which Sasuke Uchiha had perfected over the long years of his life.
The raven sighed, the warm vaporous mist of his breath curling past his nose, twisting and turning with subtle fingers to toy with the crisp air before disappearing wistfully into the starlit sky above.
Either way, Sasuke was glad that he would meet with Kyuubi tomorrow evening.
What he'd said to the blond superhero last night had been meant to tease and torment the man, but they had turned out to be very true.
Akatsuki would not wait for long.
Author's note: There, it's done. Thank you for bearing with me. I promise that this is SasuNaru and yaoi will be coming soon. I just don't want this to be tacky. It will come, be patient.
Oh, one last thing: I'm not delicate and I love the positive feedback. (Bear with me) If you have a constructive critisism but are afraid that I'll fly off the handle and not finish (unless that's your ulterior motive) please, I'd love any feedback whatsoever. I feel like any cratique which isn't simply pety, but well grounded, is very helpful to an author. So, please, if you have any comments to make at all, I would love to read them.