Apologies for this rather short chapter. Between my final year/senior college/university project/thesis/paper, and my luck in being selected for a local Chess Tournament, I have been unable to dedicate the proper time for this fic (Cause this fic is serious business yo). Alas, the Christmas Break will be here soon, and hopefully, updates for this story will kick back up.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, and now that I think about it, I really would not want to own it. Fame and money aside, it is the inherent greatness and flaws present in Naruto as we know it which enables us to go to such depths to write or read fan fiction about it. If the show was written as I or you wanted it... this entire fan fiction community would not exist.

The sun wasn't yet up.

Konohagakure no Sato was clouded over by the sweet afterglows of early morning fog. Dewdrops of water drooped, coruscating, and the soft cold air hung in abeyance. The sky was tinted a brief dark blue. The birds were drugged and the insects were mute.

It was in this early tranquility, in which even the most fervent and steadfast of mothers would banish the thought of rousing from their depths of slumber, and the most eager of shop owners would assuage themselves that time was in their favor, that a brown haired man worked.

The Training Ground was desolate. One would easily be thought a mad man, to have been found present there at the ungodly hour. Yet, this was the strange, peculiar case. A rhythm had begun with the sound of labored breaths, not the variety expected of more sensitive activities of the night, oh no, rather, it was the sort that one would oft find coming from men who were fleeing from their lives, running, being chased, as though cheetahs had metamorphosed into demons from the beyond, and were hot on their tails.

Grunts of exertion followed in the same manner. The sounds, echoing dryly into the night air that one would have been forgiven if they assumed a vengeful spirit had risen with the intent of haunting the location with all the subtlety of a scorned lover plotting a swift comeuppance.

Beads of sweat mirrored dew drops. Falling in their own manner unto moist soil, mixing with the earth and forever marking it with the scents of human effort. The man in question allowed himself a brief sigh, a quick reprieve, before he rose, stretching his arms as far back as he could.

It wasn't easy, he noted.

It was not easy, not as easy as he had thought. That, perhaps, was the strangest paradox. He knew it was not easy, yet, he had calculated that the difficulty, no matter how vast, would still be surmountable. It was not easy to lift a horse unto your shoulder and toss it into a bath, yet, he had been prepared for the difficult task of lifting, of the weight, and of the determination required to painstakingly put one foot in front of the other as he approached his destination, and unleashed the equine into water. However, he had not been prepared for the creature to resist all the way through, to squirm to fight back, and to extend its rear and deliver hooved kicks into his skull.

It had only been a day, and he knew there could be no immediate results. Still, he had expected, or at least anticipated, that he would have been able to lift the horse, and take his first step.

Instead, he had barely been able to make the horse budge.

The analogy of the horse was quite apt, he noted with a sigh. One filled with bitter merriment, the taste of acrid fruit and soured lactate staining his palates.

Maybe if he were to utilize more analogies, his students would be more inclined to listen to him in class. Or perhaps, would that instead put them to sleep instead? Would they stare at him like he had grown two heads, the second of which was a cross between an aged monk and a pubescent teen?

Perhaps, he thought, this was a bad idea.

It was unlike him to get riled up so strongly. It was unlike him to grit his teeth and squeeze his fists and then declare that he was going to become stronger. It was unlike him to find himself completely discontent with his peaceful life as a teacher, imparting new knowledge to the cheerful students who wished to become legends in their own rights.

The world needed teachers – it was a necessity. Teachers were the ones who built up foundations, who continued traditions, who passed down legacies and ensured that their students would survive, and most importantly, thrive.

He had always wanted to be a teacher, and he had achieved that goal of becoming a teacher. Then came the next question.

Now, what?

He had never felt the need to ask himself that question before. He was perfectly content, perfectly fine with his post, his role, as an instructor to young, gentle, fragile minds and hearts of young innocent children. A task he would continue to do, until perhaps one day he would maybe open a larger academy and become a principal.

"Just a chunin."

Then, then, he remembered those words and his dream fell flat. His ambition became empty, shallow. He could not hate the woman, the ANBU, for he knew the type of lives they lived. He knew that they had seen horrors and committed unspeakable acts in order to ensure that people like him, were able to live comfortable lives out of general risk.

The statistics did not lie, as most shinobi in administrative positions tended to live, on average, at least three times longer than shinobi in the active field. Some of them even got to retire.

Only four out of ten shinobi actually lived long enough to see retirement, and of those four, three of them were bound to have been in administrative positions.

The man shook his head, staring at his sweat drenched form, and he resisted the urge to laugh for doing something so ridiculous. That ANBU had lit a powerful spark within him, one which was burning even still, and the first thing he had thought of doing was to rush out and train, and then become a Jonin, just to disprove the woman out of spite.

Except, he knew that he wasn't Jonin material. Jonin were the cream of the crop, the best the village had to offer, most of them were either war heroes or experts in one specific art or another, and some of them had gone above and beyond to be considered S-Class.

In contrast, he, well –

He was pitiful.

Slightly above average chakra reserves, average handseals speed, average genjutsu skills, average taijutsu skills, average ninjutsu skills, average – everything.

He was the very definition of what a Jonin was not. There was no magic he was going to use to suddenly find himself standing at the top with the likes of Hatake Kakashi and Maito Gai, and the question of course, was that did he even want to stand amongst them?

He shook his head and sighed. It was a fun thought, entertaining the idea at the time, but of course, there was no way anything close to that would ever happen.

"Iruka-sensei?"

He blinked, his mind drawn from his musings as his eyes flickered over to a familiar blond haired form. It was a form that he had not seen for weeks, and a form that he had often queried the Hokage on, only to receive often vague confirmations about the boy's whereabouts and activities.

"Naruto?"

The boy's face scrunched up as he stared at him.

"You stink Iruka-sensei. You really, really need a bath."

Iruka's left eye could only twitch ever so lightly. He wanted to immediate raise his voice, demand questions, ask where the boy had been and what he had been doing, and chastise him for that being the first thing that had come out of his mouth after not seeing him for a long time.

Instead, he said none of those things, and sighed.

"Sure."

The boy blinked, his eyes immediately going wide. "Huh?"

Iruka scratched the back of his head. "I'll take a bath Naruto – heaven knows I need one, at least, before classes start for today anyway."

The boy stared, before immediately going defensive. "Oi – oi – who the hell are you and what have you done with Iruka-sensei?"

He resisted the urge to allow his eye twitch. "Very funny Naruto."

"KAI!"

This time, Iruka's eye did twitch, when he noticed the young blond charge with his hand placed in the familiar seal for dispelling Genjutsu.

"A double-layered illusion! That just proves that there's no way you're Iruka-ttebayo!" He pointed his finger at him accusingly. "I'm not gonna lose to some imposter! KAI!"

Iruka's eye began twitching madly, as a slow tick mark was beginning to form.

"Huh? A triple layered Genjutsu? N-no way! KA – OUCH!"

His famed fist of tough love was rendered upon the blond's head, smacking him down as Iruka held the comically steaming fist up.

"Still think this is a Genjutsu?"

Iruka watched, as Naruto turned over from his position on the ground, a large fulfilled smile on his face.

"Ah – there you are Iruka-sensei! Hey, hey, did you know that there's a guy going around henged as you-ttebayo?"

His eye continued twitching. "Oh?"

"Yeah!" Naruto sprang up to his feet in one motion "I mean, he looked like you and all, but he kinda got your face all wrong."

"My face huh?"

"Yup! The guy was all scowls and broody and kinda emo-ish… like teme, but constipated."

Iruka's tick mark returned in full measure.

"So I knew he couldn't be you! I mean, Iruka-sensei is the coolest, kindest, most awesomest teacher I know! Nothing ever gets him down!"

Iruka could not help the manner in which his annoyance deflated. Instead, he could only let out a smile and give a chuckle. "Awesomest isn't a word Naruto."

"Bah! What do those dictionary-guys know about making up cool words?"

He smiled. "I'm sure the lexicographers know a lot more about it than you might think."

Naruto grinned, a wild, carefree grin.

"See? Only Iruka-sensei would know about awesome words, or know that awesomest isn't a word, or know about mexicographers –"

"Lexicographers." He corrected automatically.

Naruto shook his head. "See? You're cool Iruka-sensei."

Iruka could only let out a brief chuckle at his student. "As flattered as I am Naruto, I'm afraid most of what I know is general knowledge. There are Jonin who know much more than I do."

Naruto pouted, putting his hands lazily behind his head. "I don't see any Jonin spending seven hours a day to teach us anything they know."

Iruka blinked. Was it coincidence that Naruto's topic had strayed into an area that his mind had recently been contemplating?

Of course it was. What else could it be?

Still, Iruka engaged in his 'lecture tone'. "They can't Naruto. Jonin are the elite shinobi of the village, and they are needed in the field, carrying out important missions in which they risk their lives and wellbeing for the good of the village."

"I know all that-ttebayo!" Naruto whined, "It's just, you know, they're this super-awesome elite ninja type that everyone wants to be – you think they could spend a day out of their free time and stuff to just branch the Academy and teach us something? Teach us anything?"

Iruka's mouth opened, and then it closed. "There… are reasons… why I don't think that would be possible."

Naruto quirked a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Well…" he placed his hand on a chin "Once you graduate, you'll be assigned to a Jonin-sensei, and they will handle your training –"

"Doesn't that mean that teaching us stuff while we're still in the Academy would kinda make their jobs easier for them in the long run? I mean, we'd already know each other and have a grasp for some of the more complex stuff and all."

Iruka found that to be somewhat true. "Most of what they could teach you would be rather advanced for people in your age and level Naruto –"

"Which would be way better-ttebayo!" Naruto yelled his hands going up into the air. "I've been reading jiji's books and there was some stuff in there about Elemental Natures, and how each person has a distinctive nature, and how it takes years to master them! Just think about how much cooler and stronger we would all be if we started learning at the academy?"

And what, let impressionable young children gain access to giant fireballs, tsunamis and hurricanes?

That would have been his response, except… well, it wasn't like that wasn't supposed to be the case anyway. Kind and caring he may be, but naïve he was not. Would it not be better to let them have access to these powers early? To teach them the value of responsibility more firmly?

What if a child accidentally shot a fireball at another child and caused grievous harm?

On one hand, both the assaulting party and the receiving party would learn a very valuable lesson about the potential danger inherent in the power and chakra they possessed, and on the other hand, once word got out to civilians, they might be wary of sending their children to a place where they could be grievously harmed or killed.

Or, the children in question would be allured by the realization that there were people their age with that kind of power.

"All I'm saying Iruka-sensei," Naruto began, scratching the back of his head "Is that all we learn is what you guys teach us-ttebayo. And if you taught us – well, if you really taught us, not just boring us to death with old stuff written in books or making us memorize stuff that we'll never really need –"

Naruto shrugged.

"We'd be awesome."

The gears in Iruka's brain churned, as though it had been an old rusty engine which had recently been firmly cleaned and lubricated.

The Konoha Shinobi Academy Teaching Syllabus had not changed too much since the era of the Second Hokage. The only major difference had been the restriction of the graduating age, to allay fears of any more child geniuses going berserk from the pressures of the Shinobi lifestyle, but that was it. They taught the same subjects, the same routines, implemented the same drills and the same practices. This routine of teaching had grown so monotonous that most of the teachers and students alike considered them a chore.

They considered the Shinobi Academy a waste of time.

Iruka could feel his heart thumping heavily in his chest.

He could never be a Jonin. Sure, he could manage to make his way to Special Jonin class, and then what? Where would his satisfaction be attained? From going on harder, more dangerous missions? From the better paycheck? From the sense of adventure?

Money was not an issue. Danger was not his calling. Adventure was not his dream.

Oh no. He would never be a Jonin.

Instead, he was a teacher.

What if he had been looking at it the wrong way? What if, instead of wanting to become more in the sense of accomplishment did not mean a promotion?

What if it meant, he became a better teacher?

To teach, to implement knowledge and understanding and tactics, to have his students possess sharp wits, sharper skills, and the sharpest of minds and blades.

So sharp, that upon graduation, their Jonin instructors would gaze upon their skills, mouth agape in astonishment, as the bewildered question escaped their lips:

"Who the hell taught you that?"

Their answers?

"Umino-fucking-Iruka, that's who."

And when the lips of Jonin sang songs of a mysterious teacher who went above and beyond with their students, and said students went on to excel above and beyond, carrying the lessons of their mentors, of their sensei –

He would not even need to find the woman who had scorned him, as she stared in confusion as to how a mere teacher was more respected than she –

He would smile and say:

"Of course you wouldn't understand. You're just an ANBU."

Iruka let out an excited breath.

"Thank you, Naruto."

The blond in question blinked owlishly. "Err… you're welcome? I guess, for whatever awesome cool stuff I did that you're thanking me for?"

He rubbed his hand through the blond boy's hair, a deep smile on his face.

"You helped me realize something. And, I think you may have helped a lot more people than you realize as well."

Naruto grinned. "Helping people is fun."

Iruka's smile grew wilder.

"Yes it is Naruto."

The image of a classroom full of rambunctious people filled his mind, and the image of these people smiling came right after.

It really is."

Yamanaka Ino knew that the end was near.

It was one thing, to have challenged Uchiha Sasuke to a spar, and it was another thing, to realize that Sasuke had not shown up for said spar. The people at the Academy had spun it in as many different ways as they could, in as many different stories or tales as their imaginations, primitive, wild or vivid could go. Some had assumed that it simply meant Sasuke did not consider Ino worth his time, and as such, had dismissed the challenge. Others had claimed, that Ino was actually going to use her Yamanaka abilities to mind rape the Uchiha into blissful oblivion, and as such, he was wise to avoid the fight. Some even went as far as to believe that Sasuke was afraid of her, because she was his mistress or something completely ridiculous.

And just like that, she was immediately the most popular girl in school.

"This. Is. Torture."

She groaned as she made her way to the academy, unable to not notice the stares, the whispers, the pointing fingers and hushed conversations.

"It's not that bad Ino."

Thankfully, she had at her sides, the only two boys she could call her friends at the moment. To her left, Shikamaru walked, his eyes were like that of a tranquilized giraffe, staring vacantly at the path ahead without much care or attention to the rumor mill. Truly, Ino felt that the boy's level of apathy was slowly transcending mortal limits.

In contrast, to her right, Choji was animatedly eating a bag of potato chips, and though he seemed quite as normal as usual, Ino could tell he was nervous. He bit at the chips three times before swallowing them, whereas she knew he could simply toss one into his mouth, and often did simply toss one into his mouth, chewing twice to savor the flavor before swallowing.

She rubbed at her temples, not sure if she should be proud or creeped out at the fact that she had memorized her friend's eating habits enough to ascertain when something was wrong.

"I mean – all the girls look at you as though you're some sort of hero now."

She let out another painstaking groan. Unfortunately, the consensus as to why Sasuke had not shown up had rang in favor of the theory that he was afraid of her. Now, there were tales going up as to how she was the second coming of Tsunade Senju – possessing a frightening fighting prowess that even the Last Uchiha, a certified prodigy in his own right, was terrified of going against.

"It'll blow over soon enough." Shikamaru had said in his usual lazy drawl. "These things usually do."

It was true, in a sense. All she had to do was not add fire to any of the slowly increasing, utterly ridiculous flames that were the rumor mill, and soon enough, they'd see, and they'd come to realize, that there was absolutely no truth to any of it.

The only, small benefit, was that the Uchiha Sasuke fanclub had actually… died.

Ino herself could not explain how that worked. The majority of the girls who were usually chanting and celebrating about Sasuke had become incredibly subdued.

The Ino-Shika-Cho trio took up their sitting positions as usual in the class, with Shikamaru's immediate impression of a drunken sloth, Choji's impression of an eager foodie, and Ino's… well, Ino. The scene which had awaited them, had been that of Uchiha Sasuke entering into the classroom, either unknowing or uncaring of the whispers which made Ino sink further in her chair.

Then, as always, he took a seat, placed his hands on the table, his chin on his hands, and he turned his gaze out the window.

And then, the girls that fawned over him entered the class, the thickening silence slowly rising –

And they all silently dragged their feet into the back seats, as far away from Uchiha Sasuke as possible.

"The end is nigh Shikamaru. Mark my words. The. End. Is. Nigh."

"You're not a prophet Ino. It'd be really troublesome if you were."

Ino watched, with slightly bated breath, for long pink hair to eventually arrive through the door, only to frown upon seeing long black hair and pale eyes instead. Said girl had entered the class, and then she immediately seemed to look flustered as the backrow seats where she normally stayed was occupied, and the class was getting fuller and fuller by the second.

The only few seats available were –

Oh hell no.

Ino watched with widened eyes as Hinata, the shiest girl in the class, moved toward the seat next to the Last Uchiha, as she timidly asked him if it was taken.

And of course, Sasuke did not respond.

"Hinata-chan!"

The girl flinched at the calling of her name, and all eyes once more turned to Ino.

Shikamaru's eyes also opened at the call. "Ino? What are you –"

"Here, you can come have my seat."

"A-ah a-ano I-I c-couldn't p-p-possibly –"

She marched down to the girl, grabbing her surprisingly soft hands and taking her back up to the higher seats.

"Move Shikamaru."

The lazy boy in question sighed. "Troublesome."

Just like that, the rumors escalated.

"Did you see that?"

"Ino's totally kickass! The way she rescued Hinata-chan from that jerk."

"I told you girls that Ino was awesome! There's no way Sasuke would want to mess with her!"

Ino ground her teeth slowly against each other and firmly, vehemently, resisted the urge to slam her head against the table in the seat she was presently occupying.

Dear Kami, could this day get any weirder?

Then, just as she had uttered that prayer, that question to the gods –

Umino Iruka walked into the classroom. Silent, quiet, as though he were not supposed to be their teacher, and immediately, all the eyes strayed towards his direction and his odd behavior.

Then, he brought up their thick, hardback, Academy issued manuscript.

"Katon."

And he set it on fire.

The end is nigh.