Chapter 26
It was quiet now that Naruto was gone. The setting sun cast long shadows from the tree with the tattered target, the children off now, no doubt having dinner and doing their homework and chores. All but one.
The lone boy with the long, dark hair stood next to the tree again, staring in the general direction of the infirmary. Iruka wondered, not for the first time, if the boy had a family member that was ill or injured being cared for here. He remained to stand and watch after the all others left, and that flew in the face of Iruka's first assessment, that he was just hanging around the outskirts of the group waiting to build up the courage to join in. Still, it reminded Iruka somewhat of Naruto's plight; and actually, of his own. As an orphaned child shunned by most, the time spent standing alone in the place where everyone else had just finished their games of camaraderie was painfully familiar. The weight of the knowledge that they all went off to the warmth of their families added to the burden of sadness, a load so unbearable it could only be shouldered by denial of its existence. At times, the weight was so heavy, it held you in place; until the pain began to fade, your feet were reluctant to move.
He extended a hand just shy of the glass, the urge to reach out to the boy goading him beyond reason.
Why is he always alone? Why does he stand there, what is he waiting for, looking for in this building? Where is his family, does he have no one and no where to go?
It seemed like their eyes might have met; but from the outside, with the glass, with the glare, it was possible that the boy didn't even see that there was a person looking back at him.
He persisted despite the shock of the warning barrier, seeking to get closer somehow; his fingertips came in accidental contact with the glass, triggering the security jutsu. The result was immediate. Iruka was thrown back hard, rolling until the wall stopped him. It hurt – a lot. It was mean and uncalled for. It was separating him from that poor, lonely soul that needed him. He was a teacher with no students, a useless animal caged for experiments. It made him suddenly angry.
He staggered upright and stubbornly returned, swaying dangerously close to peer out, to see if the boy had noticed. He didn't appear to have moved at all. Iruka strained to see his face as clearly as possible, to examine his expression more thoroughly. His eyes, though far away, impressed him as being both calm and powerful beyond his years. He was drawn to try and look into them, and he did, and he did not question why that would be.
But in the pleasant, surreal, strangely peaceful pursuit of trying to see into those eyes, the complex answer to unlocking the window's containment jutsu came to him as if from nowhere. He chalked it up as one of those memories that slipped through the blocking, rare though they were, and this one highly opportune.
He could swear that the young boy, staring in his direction still, smiled at him before turning and strolling away.
xxxxxx
"Some of your memories are going to be a curse, I won't lie. Perhaps they are a blessing in some ways as well. I can't know your life's every detail. But before we go forward any further, I'm going to give you a bit of foreshadowing. I've given this some thought, and I think it only fair to offer you some options. It's not quite the same as undoing the past. But it has its merits."
"Your Ladyship? I'm not sure that I understand."
"I'm going to tell you a bit about your life since an assignment I gave you years ago. The assignment that led to the end of your career at the Academy. And then I'm going to let you decide how we should proceed with the restoration of your memories. That is…if you decide to proceed. I am going to give you the option of letting those sleeping dogs lie."
"Left the Academy…" Iruka looked at his hands and arms for the millionth time since his awareness returned, still trying to fathom how they could have changed so much. Of course. They had been hardened by some other line of work, full time – not by mere diligent training and semi-annual missions.
"Yes, Iruka."
"Naruto and Sakura are the only ones who call me sensei," he whispered, confirming aloud the suspicion that had been brewing in his soul.
"You haven't been anyone's sensei in years, Iruka. It has been a great loss to the Academy. That can be fixed easily enough. Once your physical elements are in synch again and you stabilize, there's no reason that you can't return to teaching."
"May I...may I ask...was I ordered to leave?"
"No, not per se. But as certain things developed, you no longer had a desire to teach there."
Iruka's face cast down as he considered her words.
"Keep in mind that I can strengthen the seal and prevent the return of your memories indefinitely, but I can't erase the past. Others know of your history and they will likely tell you about much of it. If you stop now and return to teaching, I doubt you'll be treated as you were before. Your presence will be a bit intimidating, at least in the beginning. I just want you to give this some thought. We still have a few days before you're improved enough to advance your memory setpoint again. The next advancement might take you to, or even past that point where you left the Academy; my control isn't precise enough to stop you just shy of it. So if you choose to stop in order to return to teaching, we must stop here. Unfortunately, a good deal of your later Academy experience will be lost to you as well. As such, you would most certainly be looking at a downgrade back to chunin."
She brushed his hair back to uncover his face, still finding it hard to believe that it was smooth, unbroken flesh but for the scar from his childhood. He seemed to tolerate her touch without too much distress now; an improvement, but likely to be reversed with the next advance in his memory, as it had been each time before.
"The Academy, and being a chunin, is all I really know." He looked up at her, still grieving over the loss of the Third, his revered unofficial guardian. He could not fully accept that it had been years since he had passed on, and that this woman was truly his Hokage. One thing seemed certain - whatever had come to pass in his life that had left him in such a state, it was likely the direct result of following her orders.
His life had been decent enough, certainly good enough to suit him, as far as he remembered. It was balanced with sacrifice and reward, humility and triumph, and in general he felt like he had placed himself deliberately in the lines of work that were of most benefit to the village. When he thought of his life, it was just the work that came to mind. From sunrise to sunset, it claimed all of his time, talent and energy, from the predawn moment that he set out for the Academy to the return trip after dark from locking down the mission desk.
He looked again to his arms, all lean muscle and hatched with defense scars. He knew full well they belonged to a seasoned shinobi of higher rank. There were a number of reasons that he'd passed on aspiring to that life. Ability had never been one of them. The ugly reality of having to be a member of the jounin subculture had truly been a strong deterrent. The code of conduct there was not something he could embrace in good conscience; he had by default opted to be the victim of it rather than one of the perpetrators. There was no middle ground among nin.
Could he truly trust her? When he couldn't be sure of his own identity, could he take everything presented to him here as the truth? Or had he fallen in genjustsu, or enemy hands, or was he mad and imagining it all?
Madness would certainly go a lot further in explaining why he felt like he was just leasing space in his own body; why it sometimes felt like there was someone else there, itching to take over, wanting him erased for good. Were they manipulating his mind, using some form of interrogation technique, to fool him into cooperating and telling them anything they might want to know?
"You don't have to decide now," she said, her voice now quietly sympathetic. Her eyes were drinking in his sight, and for the life of him, he didn't think that anyone had ever inspected his face so closely before.
"Just tell me…was I dead?" he asked. For someone of her importance to be so rapt at seeing him, it had to have been something that serious.
She smiled. "No, you're as mortal a man as any. I must ask for your decision soon, Iruka. Once you decide, at least you'll have a direction to take. If you wish to stop and heal at this point, you should beware of digging too deeply on your own. But if you do want to continue on…digging will be the order of the day. For now, just keep working on coordinating your body and mind. Once we have that properly restored, the path you decide on will dictate how we go about releasing you back to your life."
Gathering up her cloth roll of examination equipment, she stepped sideways to the door, keeping him in sight for a few more seconds than if she had turned to walk away. It was almost like watching the young Iruka-sensei of the past, to see the play of unguarded emotion on that familiar face. Her lies, heartlessly crafted for a greater purpose, seemed to have been swallowed whole. It would give him something to dwell on, pushing him to look at his situation as if he actually had some control over his fate, and distract him from seeing the reality that he was being held in custody as tightly as any prisoner. Perhaps Even held hostage all of the defensive strength of ego on his side of the divide, including self-defensive and skepticism. "No exertion yet. And no more trying to stand away from the walls without a spotter. If I find out you've hit the floor again…"
"No, m'lady. I'll do as you say."
She was leaving, and he was once again left in isolation.
The Third, with his gruff, supervising voice of authority, had been a constant presence in his life since the loss of his parents. He had been the one constant that, even through the betrayal of his only true childhood friend Mizuki, never wavered or threatened to disappear. Surely, he hadn't lived in complete solitude after Hiruzen's passing.
Stopping his memories here...what would be the point? What would it spare him? What would be lost? It was sweet of his former students to dote on him as a hospitalized patient...but after he was released, what reason would they have to interact with him further? Mere nostalgia? There was no way to turn back the clock and resume their teacher-student relationship. There was no other meaningful element of his life he could think of that might have endured clear up to the current, confounding times.
Her offer didn't make any sense from any way he looked at it.
It had to be some kind of ploy. But was it to help him recover, or was it to trick him for some other purpose?
The Third would never have had to resort to fooling his own men. He had his power of second sight, bestowed upon him because of his worthiness as a leader, and he would have used it to seek truth in his own way.
It was lonely to imagine how it would feel to stand in this female Hokage's office, facing her deceitful and heartless smirk instead of the old man's earnest if cranky expression and well-meant words of criticism and reproach.
She swept out the door, pausing just outside to wait for it to close completely. A lone ANBU seemed to materialize from thin air in the otherwise empty hallway, dropping his cloaking jutsu to step out from his post across from Iruka's room.
"Anything at all?" she asked, starting to feel more than just a touch of pessimism.
"Nothing here, Lady Tsunade." He brought a gloved finger up to touch his ear. "He hasn't gone near the jutsu on the window again. I've been monitoring communications and no one is reporting unusual movement outside, either."
A noise from the adjoining corridor prompted the ANBU to disappear as abruptly as he had materialized. It was merely a cart, pushed by a lone worker gathering dirty linens, but the ANBU stayed in hiding, and Tsunade moved on without exposing his presence.
She didn't need Ibiki to tell her that this was coming to a decision point. If Danzou planned to interfere in some way, he was certainly late to the party. The information on Iruka's compromised condition, purposely leaked at large, gave any potential interloper only four more days to make their move.
Of course, they never really planned to allow Iruka to stay like this anyway. Nothing short of permanent brain damage could ever hope to seal away the persona Danzou had created; only Danzou himself, by reversing the secret process he had used to extract and mold it, could have any chance of making it go away completely. And besides, vital elements of Iruka's emotional makeup were trapped there. Without them, it was doubtful that he could have anything close to a satisfactory quality of life.
Iruka would have to do battle within, and there was certainly no assurance that the result would be a sound singular mind in the end. It seemed much more likely that he would have some degree of schism if the separation was merely discontinued and not undone by the caster.
But Danzou was smart; Iruka – no, Even - was valuable, but not worth losing everything over. He managed to avoid their entrapment too many times to take bait this obvious.
Which took them back to Plan B, at the risk of even further degradation of Iruka's cognitive function: the clinically controlled re-establishment of his memories paired with Ibiki's surgical assault on whatever seals and traps the old fox was installing in his ROOT agents these days. They couldn't risk waiting much longer; Even was growing more cohesive behind the barrier, and it wouldn't be long before he started causing trouble that would be very difficult to counter. If he took a hard look and realized his situation, his sworn duty to sacrifice his life before betraying his sadistic master could be carried out despite her best efforts to suppress it.
She would have to confer with Ibiki right away. Four days might be too long to wait.
xxxxxxxxxxx
Kakashi's encore visit had been upended. He had managed to find his way into a wheelchair with help from unauthorized personnel, enraging Sakura as she caught Naruto wheeling him out of his room, both of them wearing the guiltiest looks that she had seen since Academy days.
"You!" she barked. "You just got off the respirator! You need the oxygen! Naruto, are you trying to kill him? He can't go anywhere without the I.V.! How did you disconnect it? You idiots!"
"Well…it's just for a few minutes, right? Iruka's still not really up for much company - isn't that what you said? So what harm could…" Kakashi started in his defense.
"What harm? What harm? Is dead harm enough for you? You need all of this, Kakashi-sensei! All of it! All the time!"
Naruto bravely shuffled forward and cocked his mouth sideways. "He wants to do this, Sakura. So fix it up for him."
"And you! You don't have any say in this!"
"I think Iruka needs to see him right now. That's what I say in this! I mean, back before things got all weird, they were pretty good friends. Kakashi-sensei wants to help him, so let him help!"
"Sakura. I know you're just trying to enforce the rules. We might not be following the letter of hospital policy, but you must realize that what I'm doing is right," Kakashi said evenly.
Cursing under her breath, she yanked the I.V. pole out of its stand by the bed and secured it in the holder on the back of the wheelchair.
"If you're going to do such stupid things, at least do them as intelligently as possible. You leave this in place, you move the holder here, and you don't ever interrupt the flow of the fluids. Got it?" she growled, re-establishing his medication. The portable oxygen tank clunked into place next, hung on the other side of the chair, and she settled the tubing around his ears and let it go; it landed in place on his cloth-covered upper lip with a snap.
The pink-haired healer stood back and shook her head, hand on her hips. Then she grabbed one of the thin blankets and covered his legs.
"You look awful. Be sure to tell him right off that we still think you'll live, or you might scare him. Okay?"
"Hn."
Naruto pushed his stubborn former sensei into the hallway at top speed.
Iruka jumped when the door banged open, pushed gracelessly by the bare foot of the ghostly form in the wheelchair.
"Ah, sorry, didn't gauge that correctly," Kakashi said, eye raking the nervous man to assess his condition. He looked pretty good, but instead of that spacey, confused expression he'd worn before, he seemed worried and heavily weighted in thought.
"I might have pushed you a little hard," Naruto chuckled. "Hi, Iruka-sensei! Just thought I'd bring you some company! He's not much to look at, but he doesn't have anything else to do, so I thought I'd drop him off for a while so you can keep an eye on him. That all right with you?"
"Of course," Iruka said, a little unsure as Naruto turned back to the door. "You're not staying?"
"I'll come back to visit in a while before I drag him back to his room," he said, scratching his head sheepishly. "Seems I have a little business I need to take up with Sakura right now. See you!"
If he didn't go catch her, she might get worked up and go rat them out to Granny. The whiskered nin was sure of his ability to annoy and distract her long enough so Kakashi could visit for a decent duration.
The door whispered shut and sealed the the pair in a long moment of expectant silence.
"So you're back," Iruka said, as if it confirming some belief he wasn't sure of. "I have a feeling from your entrance that I should have expected that. You act like we have a connection. Do we? I can't put my finger on it...but as much as I can't make sense of it, you seem to have a vested interest in my well-being."
"You might say that. Are we...okay to talk about your past now?"
"I honestly don't know anymore. What do you mean, 'might say'?"
It's kind of an understatement, actually. We've been...quite close...off and on...for years."
"Close. Really." Iruka shook his head in mild disbelief. "Off and on. So how is it between us now? I guess if you're coming to see me, it must be on?"
"Well, no. It's been 'off' for some time, up until recently. Not that I want to keep it that way. It would be nice to think that 'on' is just long overdue."
"I really have missed a lot, haven't I? The concept of this..."
"What we had…I guess you could say that it ended. It didn't end because one of us found someone else. At least, not anyone special. It just ended...in large part because I behaved badly; but that's not unexpected, is it? That's just kind of what I do."
Iruka shook his head, a little stunned by the jounin's candor. So they had been...partnered up for a while? On the same team? A falling out severe enough to break up an established team would be a very serious matter. "Did we end up as enemies?"
"No. I've never hated you. Ever. And you…" Kakashi's mind replayed the journey through Iruka's light tragedy of a mindscape. Iruka didn't have a serious grudge against him, he knew for a fact. "You didn't hate me either. Hard to understand why, though. I never understood the things you did, and I hurt you for it in spades. That's my style, too, I must admit. I'm an offensive player. I retaliate tenfold by attacking. Not a very good quality in a lover, eh?"
"L-lover?" Iruka boggled, truly stunned. "Are you serious?"
Kakashi nodded without giving away any reaction, too pained and amused all at once to risk making a foolish reply.
Iruka shook his head, still unable to believe that he had experienced some sort of intimacy with the awe-inspiring, legendary copy-nin. Kakashi was talking far more than he'd ever dreamed of hearing him talk, giving him so much information, even though everyone was banned from telling him the things he did not remember. It only seemed fair to respond in kind.
"I have the option to stop here and start over. I had been thinking of taking it. There's a procedure, something the Hokage and Moreno-san can perform. I can end the progression and start all over again, with just what I know right now."
Ibiki! Damn them, Kakashi thought. Still up to trickery when it came to Iruka's mind, still trying to use him without giving him any support. Their focus on seizing all of Danzou's dangerous secrets hadn't flagged a bit. No way would they just stop here and give up on extracting data, not for the sake of a man they were willing to risk destroying to obtain it.
The lone eye was revealing in a way that never revealed a thing. The pale orb glistened calmly on the surface, yet Iruka's keen emotional intelligence detected a fully rolling boil of serious thought and opinion, if not emotion, at his comment. Looking into that eye was a call to curiosity tempered with caution at the veiled threats clearly communicated in the lazy-looking nin's constantly humming chakra, evident now despite his deprivation sickness.
The reason behind the deep interest and direct stare was still a mystery. Maybe it angered him, that Iruka would still speak of wanting to eliminate his memories despite the news that some of them would allegedly be intimate memories between the two of them.
No, he still couldn't imagine that any relationship he might have with this higher-ranked of a man would be that important to him, even if it was an intimate one. His keen interest had to be centered on the matters at hand.
"I apologize, Kakashi-san. If you've come to learn more of my situation, I'm not going to be of much help."
"Ah." Kakashi nodded, reluctantly looking away from the unguarded, earnest expression he hadn't seen in years. This was the Iruka he had come to be involved with, the man with goodwill and heart in ridiculous supply, unafraid and unprejudiced despite the ungrateful backhand with which Konoha rewarded him time and again.
It was not unlike looking at a departed friend come back to life.
And soon, he would be taken away again.
The silver-maned head twitched in realization. No, that wasn't necessarily true. If all these precious qualities had been extinguished long ago, just erasing his more recent memories shouldn't revive them to this degree. Hammered and hardened, this precious core personality had survived clear through everything he had experienced. Did Tsunade understand the kind of tinkering this was? That there had to be some way of bring him through this whole, if there was enough guidance to soften the blows?
Why not contribute the power of his Sharingan?
"Well, actually, this did just occur to me, Iruka-sensei. Would you consider allowing me to assist when they advance your memory again?"
Iruka smiled uncertainly, touched by the kindly tone and use of the honorific, making a great effort to conceal how flustered he was at the very thought.
"It's kind of you to offer, but the Lady Hokage seems to have no problem with it on her own." He swallowed hard. "She already has Moreno-san and Sakura stand by in the room. But they don't do anything but watch, as far as I can tell."
"My idea was a little more involved than just standing by. With my eye technique, I can be present deep in your awareness to provide support, and it might help considerably."
"Well." Iruka stared at his hands, nervously tracing a long scar that begged to reveal its origins. "That's remarkably kind. I don't know what to say." He looked up and met the cool gaze; with a great gulp of worry, he spoke the complete truth. "My first reaction is pretty unprofessional. I'm thinking - what if something is revealed during all this that I would rather keep to myself? A man has a lot of things that happen to him over time. Not all of them are fit for public knowledge. I understand that I seem to have some information that our T&I department wants very badly. For that I will cooperate to the fullest, but I think that the fewer people I allow into my head otherwise, the better."
"So you've already decided to let them advance your memory."
Iruka shook his head. It was already incredible, sitting here blabbing about the weakness and confusion in his heart and soul to an elite jounin, trusting his offer of help. In his experience, a man of Kakashi's level would be sneering and disgusted by his behavior, or at minimum plotting ways to hold it against him or looking for an opening to use him with it mercilessly. He'd concluded from the evidence in the mirror, together with being treated as an equal by everyone he'd been in contact with so far, that after he left teaching and returned to service, he must have experienced a period of unimaginable success.
If he let them freeze him here, he couldn't decide how that might impact his life. Eventually, once he was out of the infirmary and the gag order was old business, he would surely hear at least some of what happened. It didn't make sense to refuse his past, when everyone else knew about it. It seemed that a situation like that would just give other people the upper hand. Then he'd be left to try digging it all out on his own in self-defense, with no privacy at all.
"I don't mean to pry, but...you're not feeling uncomfortable talking to me, are you?" Kakashi asked, breaking the over-long silence.
"Well. I'm..." Iruka looked away, nodding. "I don't want to offend you. It's not you, exactly. But truthfully, I'm uncomfortable all of the time. Nothing seems to come naturally."
"I see. So it must be difficult for you to make decisions."
"Kakashi-san, I know they want information and I know they plan to get it. I'm not convinced that the offer to leave well enough alone is a real one at all. I just haven't figured out why they decided to make such a disingenuous offer. Especially since I believe that I have cooperated to the fullest so far."
"Hn." The silver-haired jounin wished that he knew, as well. Smart; even in his damaged, half-sealed mind, Iruka was smart and perceptive. Ibiki knew that, too. He would know that the offer would set several chains of thought in motion. The contemplation of the false offer of sheltering in place would distract him, turning over the pros and cons; but the greater realization that he was being prodded for some other purpose would weigh on his mind as well.
It might make sense as a test of his level of trust and dedication; except that, in this damaged state of flux, testing those things made little sense at all.
Iruka interpreted Kakashi's shrugged response as a final answer. If the elite knew more, it must be things he was not allowed to reveal.
It occurred to him more than once that this man's unusual behavior might be orchestrated and presented to him as part of his incarceration. It seemed that he'd stumbled onto another truth hidden underneath the underneath; he was not in the hospital primarily for medical treatment and they just happened to be trying all this debriefing here to save time along the way; rather, for reasons unknown, this was the facility best suited for his detention and interrogation at this point in time.
"It's difficult to say what is the right thing to do for me, for myself. I don't have enough information. So I have to default to what is best in service to Konoha. I will continue to submit and cooperate with the treatment. And honestly, even if it were to disadvantage me personally, I would still feel duty-bound to carry on."
"Exactly the answer I would expect from you," Kakashi said, not unkindly.
"I almost feel like they don't trust me somehow. I just wish that they'd at least tell me if I'm here because I did something wrong."
"I can tell you with absolute certainty that it isn't about punishment or anything you did wrong. You didn't bring this on yourself. In truth, you were doing your best to..."
Kakashi scowled; a split-second before it happened, he felt in his bones. The door flew open so hard it hit the wall with a loud report.
That damned Ibiki.
"Shut up, Hatake. You've said enough. I think that we're just not getting through to you," Moreno barked, shaking his head at the disruption he was forced to create for the rightful occupant of the room. Kakashi was making this difficult, and making a painful situation worse for the person he professed to care about. Not that his bad behavior and lack of self-control was in any way unexpected.
He's listening all the time, Iruka's fretful thoughts warned, trying to decide how that meshed with the seemingly private way the female Hokage had spoken with him. She would know her Intelligence Specialist was listening. He didn't see her make any signs or sense anything like a privacy screen or jutsu. Why, anyone could overhear, then, anyone nearby. His room didn't even have the standard, basic sound suppression for medical privacy.
If he had the most fledgling of skills, even that young boy standing outside could have been picking up some of this drama. The thought was mortifying, and it pierced his fragile ego with the knowledge that he had carelessly trusted them too much, when he was so sure that he was being clever and just pretending to drop his guard.
Drenched in his own confusion, he paid little attention to the snarling between the two enigmatic men.
Xxxx
Jeninki was not opposed to floating aimlessly like this for a little while. Well, not actually aimless...his goal was clearly visible behind a simple pane of glass, a moving work of art, a tempting sample in a dessert case awaiting his inevitable selection. But timing and patience were his stock and trade, and this was no thing to be rushed just yet. Unless, of course, he felt them moving to hurt his precious future companion. Any attempt to return Iruka to that cruel, filthy state of subordination perpetrated by Danzou would be be met head-on with resounding defeat.
But he listened and watched, and briefly even appeared before those haunted, bottomless brown eyes. The Konoha operatives were being so transparent in their fruitless trolling, temptingly dangling Iruka in this ridiculously helpless condition like so much wriggling bait. Danzou would never bite; he had his youth, and his seal upon Even's tongue was quite an excellent one. And it was Even that had all of the damning knowledge locked down tight, despite the fact that Iruka had experienced much of that extreme training and brainwashing. So no obvious trap like this would ever have any chance of being sprung on the cagey old menace, no matter how long they dragged this out.
The Leaf nin did not know of their dispute over ownership, and Danzou's reluctant concession to allow Jeninki his right of first strike. They assume the ROOT leader was bound to take some action, and they staked out the old fox's compound around the clock. They merely succeeded in making it slightly more difficult to visit with him, but for someone with Jeninki's skill set, the extra effort necessary to come and go undetected was but a minor annoyance.
Still, a little complication and diversion, for its own sake, felt like a smart move tactically.
He easily infiltrated the youngsters at play, blending in with a henge and using his eyes to embed false beliefs in the minds of two of the older, more eloquent boys, clearly leaders of their little cliques.
It wasn't half a day before the rumor he planted spread everywhere, and all manner of children, even those with no interest in becoming nin, were coming in pairs, small groups, or solo, to try a steal a forbidden look, to try and see which window held the fierce shinobi, in fact a former academy instructor with an unholy scar across his nose, who was brought here bearing a curse that was turning him into a hideous, unspeakable monster despite the best efforts to save him. He was said to look like any other patient, except for those rare moments when he would begin to turn, and if one was lucky enough to witness those moments and the incredible sealing jutsu that his attendants had to use, risking their lives each time they were forced to suppress him – well, anyone who saw that would have bragging rights over every other kid alive.
Jeninki came and went among the whispering, giggling throng, watching and sighing, enjoying the luxury of hiding in plain sight amid the hubbub. Even after the Hokage herself issued a terse announcement that no such cursed soul was being attended to, and ordering the gossipy children to stay clear of the hospital grounds, the children still lingered close by in the neighboring field and played in feigned innocence while spying out of the corners of their eyes. Iruka never stopped watching them back, completely unaware of the tall tale that drew them in. Jeninki had to admit to himself that it was a little cruel to make a spectacle of someone in such a vulnerable state, especially someone who grasped for this little bit of connection with the outside world as a weak substitute for the strong bond he'd cherished with his many students.
It was all right, though. Iruka had forgotten all of the lessons Jeninki had graciously arranged for him to learn about these people, so he had to learn them all over again. It was pointless to get attached to something so unimportant as a bunch of strange kids. And it was amusing to make a little trouble for the very Leaf personnel who thought so little of using Iruka like an animal when he was not their cause du jour.
And when he appeared to Iruka in his young form, and sent gentle urging over distance and through the glass despite the jutsu meant to keep him out, the bud of their original connection would swell from the warmth and threaten to bloom. Much as he longed to follow through and make all new memories together, the risk of the savage Leaf destroying the prize to prevent its taking was too great. He needed a totally unguarded moment, to spirit him away without risking altercation, or begging pursuit.
To that end, he kept making sad, lonely faces, repeatedly planting the hand signs that would release the containment jutsu all over the former sensei's tampered mindscape.
xxxxxx
"Your physical condition has improved greatly. Since you have agreed to progress with the return of your memories, and you're no longer in need of hospitalization otherwise, I'm going to order your relocation to a more suitable environment."
Iruka nodded dutifully to the lady Hokage. His chakra was still insanely crippled; his ability to maintain his balance had barely improved at all, still making it impossible to walk safely without support within reach. His condition was the same today as it had been two weeks ago. This move had nothing to do with his medical status, but he decided it was wiser to hold his tongue.
"My facility will be your temporary home," Ibiki chimed in. "There will be no need to worry about interruptions or interference by random visitors. And you can speak freely there without concern about being overheard."
He knew well enough the type of facility Morino captained. Uncomfortable with foreboding of whatever this meeting might bring, Iruka responded with the impatience of his helpless state of suspension.
"Today?"
"Just a few more days. To assure that you're truly stable, and to..."
"Is it really important to wait? I'd just like to get on with it!" he blurted, ill-prepared for his unprecedented irritation to well up into a formidable flash of anger.
Tsunade gave him a sideways look; now the torture specialist was giving him a very critical eye as well. Was a bit of backbone that unexpected? Well, of course, chunin were supposed to take their rightful place on their knees before such high-ranking beings. A lifetime of suppressing his resentment should have made it second nature to submit to their will without resistance.
But something inside goaded him fiercely to rail against them, to try and get some measure of control over his fate. It flew in the face of the fright and timidity that hobbled him, an inexplicable urge to dig in and strike back against his superiors.
"You seem conflicted," Tsunade said, stepping forward. "I want to check something."
Iruka found himself backing away, confused, unable to explain the sudden need to escape. His legs lost touch with his conscious will and buckled.
"Catch him," she ordered, but Ibiki was already there, seizing and controlling him with his cold, iron grip.
"Don't fight me, Umino," Ibiki said, careful not to transmit more than a factual command. Their subject had suddenly turned from abject patient into defensive, cornered prey. "There is nothing to fear here."
Tsunade's hand reached out, and Ibiki adjusted to give her free access to Iruka's head, securing him from making any move unless he allowed it.
"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, but more to herself, certain that the man squirming to avoid her touch was battling for control and the answer to that question as well. His head jerked right and left; he couldn't seem to speak but his mouth did move, so she gave him credit for attempting to respond. Delving in, her hands shocked him backwards but for the firm hold of his superior.
It was thinning faster now; her carefully crafted wall of containment, thrice rebuilt, was failing again. She reinforced it quickly, manhandling the specter of the raging ROOT prisoner within back behind her barrier, returning control to the trembling shadow of a sensei.
"I'm sorry," Iruka gasped, embarrassed and suddenly back in control. "I don't know what came over me."
Tsunade withdrew; Ibiki refused to risk a fall by letting go, depositing his man directly on the bed and forcing him to lie down.
"Tomorrow, then, I think," Tsunade sighed. "We shouldn't wait any longer."
Ibiki nodded.
"Don't get up yet. Try to rest."
Their shadows passed over his body as they filed out, the tall, grim gentleman holding the door for the flouncing lady, no doubt bursting to have further conversation about him out of his earshot.
His body was growing heavy, as were his eyelids. She had done something to help him rest. It didn't feel like an act of compassion, but rather, a move of convenience, so that they could leave without having to be concerned about his activities. His body eased into sleep but there was no quiet in his heart.
He let go of the last illusion that any of this was for his benefit. For his healing. For his eventual return to good health and service.
They meant to have something from him, and they would have it no matter the cost.
xxxxxx
Ibiki cleaned the glistening steel table with cloth heavily saturated in alcohol. It had been some time since a comrade had occupied it – at least, a live one. The occasional highly classified autopsy was performed here, where the hospital was not secure enough, or where they suspected the enemy of violating the faithful dead with hidden booby traps.
No, this was his easel, the support structure for the art he lived to perfect. It was as vital as his primary palette of cruel devices, which he applied with an artist's eye to the canvas that was the body of any enemy of Konoha, always striving to bring forth the beauty of pure, raw reality, and in the end, truth.
The table tilted, spun, raised and lowered. Its polished surface could be sterilized, leaving no trace, and it stood in the precise center of the room, away from any obstacle to his swift, inspired movements. Rings were welded to the side, so that he might choose the right accessories at will, mixing and matching from his stunning collection of restraints, many of them his own, original creations.
He did not think too long or too hard about bringing Iruka here. If he did, his mind, given how he earned his daily bread, would start to delve into unnecessary things. It would be turning over all the facets of the ill-fated sensei's personality, and considering what unique methods would be best for his undoing. He had to admit that he did that, sometimes, idly considering how best he could go about breaking a Hatake or a Shiranui until they were reduced to blubbering psychological dust.
That only happened when business was slow, and he told himself that he only did it as a mental exercise to stay sharp and challenge himself.
Like a sheepskin on a wolf, he slipped a thick, firmly cushioning pad onto the glaring metal and fastened its attached belts underneath. A waterproof pad, then a sterile white sheet, came next. He pinned them tight, then added another pad and sheet. He was relatively certain there would be some mess at some point; he debated another layer and decided against it. As it was now, it would look much like an infirmary bed when Umino was made to take his place upon it.
Just in case, he crossed the hall and checked on the temporary ANBU quarters. The rooms were clean and empty. If they somehow managed to get their subject stable enough to trust him in a less controlled environment, he could be housed in one of these, and watched over by one of the men.
All ready. Nothing to do but wait.
And try not to think of unnecessary things.
xxxxx
You're a waste of everyone's efforts. You need to disappear. You've always known how weak, how defective you are. Everyone around you senses it. That's why the jounin treat you like dirt. You are dirt. They aren't being unfair. They're applying justice. The air, water and food you consume are an inexcusable waste. Everyone everywhere despises you. They can't wait for the day when they can wake up to a world without you in it.
Swear broke out all along Iruka's brow. The voice was so clear, so full of venom and hate; was it in his head, was it a dream, or was someone here in the room?
He struggled, not sure if he was standing or falling or flat on his back.
"Who are you? Stop...stop saying that..." he whispered, but he didn't hear his own words.
He only heard the words of the other.
Die. Leave. I hate you. You're a burden no one should be forced to bear. You useless, filthy, pathetic coward!
His hand hit the bedrail in his blind effort; it hurt fiercely but he wasn't sorry. It was something real, something he could identify, both in the room and on his body.
I'd rather kill us both than let you live. There's no way in hell I'll let you win. I won't lose to you, ever! Your repulsive, disgusting days of sniveling in this life are over!
The wall was cold against his back, and the warning vibration of the security jutsu was close, too close. Suddenly, his location changed. He found he was moving across the room, on his feet – as if transported from the bed in the blink of an eye by some unknown force. His reason told him this had to be a dream, so there was no basis for feeling afraid or worrying about his next move. Emboldened, he swallowed his fear and challenged the other voice, daring him to show himself like a man.
A shock from the warning barrier jutsu jolted him sideways; he decided that he was not just dreaming, but sleepwalking, then, and he'd better be careful; his legs were wobbly and something like that should have made him wake up. His sleep must be very, very deep.
The menacing voice did not respond to his challenge. Rather, it was drowned out with a mysteriously warm reply that had a different feel altogether.
Iruka-kun, please don't be afraid. Don't listen to such poison. If no one else knows your worth, I surely do. Make your signs now, and come to me. These monsters don't deserve you. You don't deserve to be their victim any longer.
Like the mellow peal of a beautiful bell, the warmth and kindness resounded softly in his head, but the source was outside. The still-raging entity had not been replaced but instead had been whisked into the distant corner of his mind. His hands, weightless in this nightmare turned dream, moved as if on their own. He didn't have to look at them to form the signs. He wasn't looking down at all.
Through a swirling white fog, the long-haired boy reached out to him, hand open, palm up, extended in invitation to join him and escape. He hurried the signs, just a little panicked that the hand, and the offer, might withdraw without him if it took too long. The angry voice's pitch grew even more frantic and furious, swearing to grind him into dust. He tuned it out, as best he could, to concentrate on seeking the giver of warmth and hope.
Say you'll join me. Say it, and I will never rest until I take you far away from this awful place you've been forced to call home.
The last signs were more complex, but he'd taught them before, and his hands styled them gracefully despite the bizarre circumstances. It was not the craziest dream he'd ever had, but it felt the strangest, bar none.
He finished the final sign and the security jutsu was gone. The window was icy cold on his palms, and he fumbled the latch, pawing clumsily to slide it aside, afraid to look away from the hand beckoning in the ephemeral mist.
"Wait for me. Please. W-"
He knew several things in the next second. The hand and fog disappeared as if they never existed. The angry voice within his head seemed stunned as well. He was on his feet, in the hospital room, trying to open the window the rest of the way. He had indeed defeated the containment.
And one very large ANBU easily put an end to his act of insubordination.
He tried to turn, to see the mask, to confirm that the unique gloves hauling him away from the glass were actually ANBU; because the menace of whoever threatened him in his dream still felt alive and real, and he wasn't sure how that could be since he was awake.
It was at once terrifying and comforting to see the finely crafted porcelain out of the corner of his eye. The elite was not allowing him enough movement to see it properly, holding him like a madman, securing his hands with the belts the medic nin used in place of straight jackets.
He wanted to object, to cry out, to explain that he had been sleepwalking, or dreaming, or something, that he dreamed there were others in the room.
But through economy of movement and outrageous efficiency, Iruka found himself thrust back in bed, already hobbled, hand-tied and tethered in one spot, watching the broad armored back, since the hands that activated a new containment jutsu did so purposely hidden from his eyes, to make it tougher for him to break it again.
"I cannot allow you to leave in such a way," the ANBU said, commanding him loudly but in a carefully neutral tone. "Although you are restrained, you will not attempt to move until you are told to. If you make any effort to do so, I will address it immediately in a manner that you absolutely will not enjoy. Understand?"
Frozen in place, he waited, dripping sweat, buffeted by the confusing memory of the opposing voices venomously raging for him die and lovingly offering him sweet shelter and freedom.
"You must answer me if you can. Do you understand?"
Iruka nodded, unfocused, starting to breathe harder. They had warned him that his feelings of fear might be acute at times, and that any element of self-doubt or emotionalism would be amplified. This crippled state of personal power was not improving at all, and he was starting to feel an edge of panic at the idea of it getting worse.
The truth was, his mouth was open because he intended to respond to the ANBU, but he simply could not gather the courage to speak.
Flushed with shame at his pitiful state, he trembled in the bed and stared at the menacing figure, too terrified to dare look away.
xxxxxx
Tsunade slammed the ledger shut and glared at the ANBU as he gave his report. It was too damned early; she'd had a bit too much to drink last night, but it wasn't in wanton celebration. She was not looking forward to these next steps. And now, it appeared that they were going to have to move sooner than she preferred.
"He revoked the containment flawlessly, on the first try. I was monitoring him closely from the hall; I sensed only his distress. I cannot say if he was having a nightmare or if he was awake and embroiled in inner turmoil. I only know that I detected no one else in the vicinity, yet he clearly thought he was engaged in conflict, and was speaking with another."
"Did he tell you anything?"
"I may have been a bit too forceful when I restrained him. Afterward, he did not speak. Or move. But when I first entered the room, he was talking. He was calling out "wait for me" and he was in the process of opening the window, presumably to exit through it. There was no one visible outside; I could not sense anyone in the area. I sent word and the patrols confirmed that all secondary subjects of interest were accounted for in other parts of the village and otherwise occupied."
She sighed. So their last chance at catching Danzou with his pants down was lost. If only he'd been at the window. But so far, his only actions were mundane written protests requesting re-assessment of his program and the return of his test subject. Using Iruka as bait had resulted in failure and it was time to move on. In the next steps it would not be feasible anyway. Once the transfer was made to T&I headquarters, no one would dream of trying to sneak in, much less extracting anyone held within.
"So he's reached the point of falling apart. It's understandable. The partitioning doesn't last like it did at first, and his island of reality shrinks out from under him without it. I expect that his emotional stability has eroded even further. I was hoping we could let him get familiar with his new quarters and perhaps give him a taste of security there to balance him before we went forward, but it's not to be. Inform Ibiki; I want the project relocated immediately and he is not to let Iruka out sight until I arrive. This has to be handled in a controlled way, or we risk losing his mind and everything it might hold. Go, quickly, and send in Shizune on your way out."
Raking through scrolls and talismans, she began throwing her selections over her shoulder, barely bothering to listen for Shizune's arrival before she started.
Her loyal assistant's movements were silent and fluid as she caught the items in mid-air and loaded them into the well-worn duffel bag, stowing them neatly while trying not to notice exactly what the items were that her Lady was taking. It was bad enough knowing Iruka would soon be held helpless and flayed in the name of truth; but knowing the exact methods? It was something she had no inclination to wonder about. Such things always seemed private to her. In this case they were certainly meant to be secret.
It seemed highly unfair that Iruka had been given back his face only to end up being punished for losing his grip on the identity it represented.
"I'm off!" Tsunade declared, taking back the bag and tucking it under one arm. "Be wary. If anyone comes snooping to see where I'm at, send a guard to track them when they leave."
The Hokage vanished before waiting for reply. Shizune was used to it; it was not rudeness so much as a vote of confidence. She did not feel it necessary to have confirmation that her instructions were understood.
Shizune checked the guard roster to see who she should call in case of said snoops, and on impulse from something that flit through her mind, flipped far back, to a very old list. The Shiranui name was on all the shift cues back in those times. Genma had done a long stint here as a regular bodyguard in between missions. As things got quieter and the rabble over Her lady's selection died down, he was sent back to the field full-time, as his talents were going to waste. Since, he performed this duty quite rarely, when the odd staffing issue cropped up unexpectedly and he happened to be in town.
She'd heard whisper of a possible re-assignment back to this duty for a while. It was still just a rumor, she didn't see him anywhere on the current list. Were they thinking that the Hokage was somehow at an elevated risk with all that was going on?
Or had that rascal Gen gotten himself in trouble somehow? That was plausible, too. No one knew how to have too good of a time better than that guy.
She kind of hoped the rumors were true. Having Gen around was kind of like having a ray of sunshine blown up your butt; he was often funny, surprising and wildly inappropriate.
It took a moment for the smile to fade and she fell to putting all the discarded items from Tsunade's rummaging back in order. Before she realized it, by putting everything back in its place, it became quite obvious from the empty spaces exactly what items had been selected. They were so extreme, and there were so many. How could one man withstand..?
Cursing herself for being an idiot, she stalked back to her desk with her head full of unwanted details that would be damned hard to forget.