A/N: Holy moly folks...this chapter has been written and re-written no less than five times...and I'm not even sure I could tell you why. Each iteration just didn't quite feel the way I wanted it to. I think I'm satisfied with where we got, and I guess the good part is I've got a lot of AyaIru fodder that hopefully will make its way into future chapters.

I've got another 3 chapters planned that will rotate through our heroines and continue establishing relationships, and then it'll get switched up a bit (still figuring out how best to write some future events. Hopefully those won't take 5+ tries). WIP!

P.S. Thanks to my readers. So far all of this has been a fun exercise in writing for me, but it's made so much more fun with you, and I hope you continue to enjoy.

Chapter 7: Iruka's Secret

In which Iruka is oblivious.

Teuchi watched his daughter across the restaurant. She was conversing with her friends, Yuna and Hana, the latter of whom had recently been on a date that ended quite poorly. Ayame was trying to convince her that the date wasn't as much of a disaster as she thought it was.

"He never said he didn't want kids, right?" Yuna was trying to clarify a few of the subtler points.

"He said, 'I don't know,'" Hana replied, "which is a nice way of saying 'I don't want kids.'"

Ayame turned to her father. "Otou-san, from a man's perspective, what do you think 'I don't know' means when a man is asked if he wants children?"

Teuchi nearly choked. He was eating his own dinner and had to swallow down a large, painful gulp of char siu before he could address his daughter.

"It probably means he hasn't thought about it," he sputtered, coughing and reaching for his glass of water. Personally, he thought they were overthinking the situation. Mens' minds were simple. Straightforward. "Yamato-taicho doesn't strike me as the type of man to mislead a woman. I would take him for his word."

Teuchi knew enough to know that his words would have little effect on a woman whose heart was teetering on the edge of collapse. His own experience in marriage and raising a daughter had taught him just how differently men's and women's minds worked, and only a conversation with Yamato himself would quell Hana's concerns.

"Hana, don't give up just yet," Ayame told her friend. "He'll be back before you know it…they always are. And knowing Yamato, he'll want to set things straight."

Hana let out a deep sigh. "I know…" She stood up and got ready to leave, and then turned around again. "But…do I really want kids? Do you think he'd be open to adoption? What if-"

"Stop, Hana," Ayame told her. The girl's mind was starting to do what it did - logic and churn through every conceivable scenario, and Ayame knew what would happen. Reality would hit her when Yamato got back, and she would realize all that effort and energy was wasted. "I know you like him, but if you're not honest about what you want, it won't be fair to either of you."

Hana just pursed her lips and nodded.

"We'll see you after shift?" Yuna asked, tugging on Hana's arm. They were going to have another sleepover tonight, simply to make sure Hana wasn't alone.

"Yes. I'll be over soon."

The girls walked away. Teuchi took another bite of his dinner, hoping that being with her friends would distract his daughter tonight.

Ayame let out a long, ragged breath and set her forehead on the counter rather dramatically.

Apparently not. He mentally prepared himself. "Why so down, Ayame? I thought you handled that rather well."

She gave him a pathetic look. "It's Thursday, Otou-san."

Teuchi sighed, knowing this was coming. His daughter had picked up a bad habit of being depressed on Thursday evenings, and he knew it had to do with Iruka. For whatever reason, the shinobi had stopped coming in for his normal bowl of Thursday night ramen. Teuchi would have thought it odd, except that Iruka still came to the restaurant, just not regularly, and not on Thursdays. Ayame's dejection therefore seemed rather perplexing to him.

Ayame tapped her fingers on the counter, deep in thought, and then pulled out a portion of noodles. Teuchi watched her with a critical eye.

"Ayame, you know how I feel about this. Didn't I tell you not to make it a habit?"

"Otou-san, aren't you curious, too?"

"Sure, but I'm curious about a lot of people and I'm not giving away free ramen to them. He's probably not coming in because he now gets weekly delivery for free!"

Teuchi and Ayame had this exact same argument every week. Despite Iruka's absence, she continued to make a bowl of ramen and deliver it to him.

"If you saw him, you'd understand," she said.

"I do see him, and I don't understand. Honestly, Ayame, he seems fine to me. He was here last week with Naruto."

Ayame pursed her lips. She never seemed to be on shift when Iruka came in. "He's still not back to normal," she protested, "and you always say that ramen is good for the soul."

"What's also good for the soul is not losing profit."

"It's not lost profit if you take it out of my paycheck! I keep telling you to do that!" She reached into her pocket and pulled out a few coins, counting them out. She popped them in the register. "There. One large bowl of char siu miso. Happy?"

Teuchi crossed his arms. This was where he lost the argument every week. Today he tried a different tactic. "It has been months, Ayame. Why are you keeping this up?"

The calmness that permeated his voice gave Ayame pause. "You told me not to overlook him," she muttered.

Teuchi gave his daughter a measured look. "If he's not returning your interest, Ayame, maybe it's time to let him go."

"I told you before, I don't like Iruka-sensei that way."

Teuchi didn't speak. He saw through all of her protestations. She might be good at keeping secrets, but she always had tells when it came to men she liked.

Ayame glanced at him reluctantly. "I just miss him, Otou-san."

The tone of her voice spoke volumes, and Teuchi realized this wasn't his daughter's ordinary type of crush. He let out a loud sigh of resignation. Well if that's how it is…

He reached for a fresh cutting board and the take out containers. Without another word, he sliced the char siu and readied the broth. Ayame put the cooked noodles in a separate container, so they wouldn't get soggy, and Teuchi packaged the whole thing up for her in a bag.

"One more night," Ayame told him quietly. "And then I'll stop. I promise." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and picked up the bag.

Teuchi watched his stubborn daughter as she prepared to leave. "Ayame," he called. "You care for people well."

She gave her father a grateful smile. "If I do, it's because I learned it all from you."

Teuchi stared after his daughter, hoping for her sake that Iruka wouldn't stay oblivious for long.

Ayame trudged towards the Academy and pulled her sweater around her more tightly. A cold wind was blowing down from Hokage Rock, swirling her hair and chilling her bones. She hoped the ramen would stay warm for Iruka.

She wondered what he would be working on tonight. Over the semester, Iruka had retooled the entire curriculum for his class to combat the impacts the war had on his students' learning. On days when he was particularly invested in his work, she would just drop off the ramen and leave. That was most weeks. On other days though, he was less stressed and more willing to share what he was doing. She liked those nights the best.

Ayame rounded the corner to the Academy and stopped abruptly in her tracks.

Well, shoot.

The whole building was dark, which was unusual. Iruka was always working late. She walked closer, unwilling to accept that he wasn't there until her face and hands were pressed up against the windows to his classroom. It was void of that warm, welcoming light that signaled his presence.

She let out an exasperated groan and stomped her foot angrily. Where was she supposed to find Iruka when he wasn't where he was supposed to be? The thought that there might be more to his life than ramen and work did cross her mind, but Iruka was a workaholic. He was supposed to be here.

She remembered her promise to her father that tonight would be the last time she delivered ramen to Iruka. Ayame turned away from the windows, scrunching her face in frustration. She wondered how easily she could break her promise, when the tiny tendrils of a half-baked idea wiggled its way into her mind.

I'll just leave him a note.

A few weeks back, three students played hooky and came to Ichiraku for lunch. Apparently, the newest teacher, a kunoichi named Sadoru, often forgot to lock her windows, and the boys boasted about sneaking in at night to play pranks. Ayame smiled to herself…the amount of knowledge she learned from unsuspecting patrons at the restaurant came in handy.

She hopped past the hedges and checked the windows adjacent to Iruka's classroom.

Bingo.

The boys had not been lying. Ayame found the window in question and reached up to push it open. It swung on its hinges easily, and her smile grew wide.

The only drawback was that the window was high. She put her hands on her hips, facing her enemy and determining just how she would attack. First though, she reached her arm over, letting the bag with the ramen dangle as far as it could before she let it go. She heard it land on the ground, and then she peeked over the edge of the sill and made sure it survived the fall.

She took a deep breath and hoisted herself up.

And promptly fell back down.

Jumping through windows was much harder than shinobi made it look.

Come on, Ayame! She gave herself a pep talk. You'd think I'd have a little more arm strength from carrying all those pots and pans...

She took a few steps back and took a running jump, succeeding in pushing herself up. She swung her foot up on the windowsill before finding that the opening wasn't quite large enough for the way in which she was trying to maneuver herself, and her shoulder rammed against the side of the window, causing the glass to shake.

Oops…

She pushed herself forward…but lost her footing and slipped, feeling the sill of the window knock the air out of her lungs.

The squirrels in the trees outside paused at the unexpected sound that came from the Academy. Their little heads scanned for the source of the noise, but they found nothing amiss, apart from the presence of two white orbs when there was typically only one. The first, of course, was the moon. The second was simply Ayame's ass, her white clad behind hanging out the window. This orb started moving, wiggling back and forth, and the squirrels paused with curiosity to see what might happen next.

Inside, Ayame groped around in the dark, but she couldn't feel the floor yet, and without a light it was impossible to tell just how far she still was from the ground. She shifted her hips, trying to slide herself in…and then she lost her balance and tipped forward.

A crash and a scream tore through the night, and the squirrels, along with the birds, foxes, and field mice, all darted away.

But there was one creature that night that darted towards the sound.

Ayame lay on the floor, groaning. Everything seemed to be intact, but she was disoriented. She heard the sound of running feet, and then the door slid open and the light flipped on above her.

A pause, and then, "Ayame…?"

She lifted her head slowly, but the light blinded her. When her eyes finally focused on the person in the doorway, she groaned again and dropped her head back to the floor. "Hi Iruka. I didn't think you were here."

She heard footsteps and he came into her line of sight. "I've been working in the teachers' office putting together the final exam." He reached his hand out to help pull her up.

"Why aren't you in your classroom?"

"It's drafty tonight. The teachers' office stays warmer." He frowned. "I thought I left the front door unlocked."

Ayame flushed. "I didn't try the door…I assumed it was locked. But I heard that Sadoru always leaves the window open. That's what the kids say, at least. I thought maybe I'd leave you a note in your classroom."

Iruka sighed and went to inspect the window. "It's a bad habit of hers." He glanced longingly at the bag of takeout before picking it up. "You know you don't need to keep doing this."

"It's Thursday," she said timidly. "And you didn't come. Again."

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know."

"Why?" she asked softly.

He took a smidge too long to answer, and when he did, he just said, "Work." Ayame didn't buy it this time, just as she hadn't bought it the last ten times she'd brought him food.

"Well, there's extra char siu…Otou-san thought you might need the protein, what with the end of the term and all."

Iruka's eyes moved from the bag of food to her, and the immediate concern that came over his face took her by surprise.

"Ayame, you're hurt."

Ayame glanced down and found blood on the sleeve of her sweater. She pulled the sleeve up gingerly, only to find a scrape from the windowsill across her forearm.

"Oh! I must have hit it on the way in. It's nothing…" she brushed off, even though the scrape was starting to sting. "My own fault for not trying the door first."

"I've got some bandages in the office. Come on, I'll make you a cup of tea."

She followed him down the hallway and to an inner room with a central bookshelf and a series of mahogany desks. The lights were soft but warm, and the room felt cozy. Iruka flipped the switch of an electric kettle in the corner while Ayame took a seat and peered over the exam that he was writing. A section on genjutsu caught her eye.

"Here, let me see your arm."

Iruka's fingers were gentle as he took a warm, wet cloth and cleaned her wound and dressed it. The whole time, he made small talk, telling her jokes and making her laugh, and she was so distracted that she didn't feel the pain in her scrape until it was bandaged up.

She ran a finger across the gauze. "You're good at this. I can see why the kids love you."

He scratched the back of his head, blushing ever so slightly. "I've had a lot of practice. And not all of them love me."

"All of them are lucky to have you as their sensei, whether they know it or not."

Iruka made her a cup of tea before he sat down to untie the bag of ramen. She liked this, being in a warm room with him. She let him take a couple of bites before she asked, "How are the students doing?"

"They're good. I think we've made some breakthroughs, especially in the genjutsu department. They don't seem to fear it anymore, so I've put simple illusions on the final exam."

She took a sip of the tea, feeling its sweetness warm her from the inside out. "You're good at genjutsu, right, Iruka-sensei?"

"It comes easier to me than most," he admitted.

"How does it work?"

He paused mid-bite. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…how exactly does it create an illusion?"

Iruka nodded and kept eating. "It's a type of jutsu that affects the brain by disrupting the chakra that serves the cerebral nervous system. It affects all five senses, but acts on a particular part of the brain called the amygdala, which is involved with our fear response, as well as our reward center. That's why genjutsu can make the person affected feel either terror or rapture. Paired with the senses, it can cause quite a bit of psychological distress, and even physical pain."

His answer went right over Ayame's head. The only thing she knew about the brain was that it controlled most of the body. "That…was a very textbook response, Iruka." It reminded her of the way Hana described things. So scientifically.

His face flushed a bright red and he cleared his throat. "Well, I am a teacher, Ayame-chan."

They made tenuous eye contact before she asked, "Can you show me?"

"You…want to experience genjutsu?"

She nodded eagerly. "I tend to learn better by doing. Show me as if I'm one of your students."

He paused for a moment before putting his chopsticks down. He cleared his throat. "Alright. Genjutsu is a subtle technique. The ability to make your enemy see and sense things that aren't real is powerful, but equally dangerous if you're the one caught in their technique."

Ayame was caught up in Iruka's description, trying with all her might to follow along. She loved how intent he was when he was lecturing, but she was also getting distracted. He was staring right at her, and she was so focused on maintaining eye contact that it became hard to pay attention to everything he was saying.

She swallowed. Her mouth had gone dry. Staring at Iruka's handsome face was making her rather clammy.

She looked at her cup. The tea was still steaming, and she thought about how much she enjoyed chrysanthemum tea.

Iruka was still talking, and when she looked back at him, he was at the chalkboard doing multiplication. She scrunched her face. Math was her least favorite subject in school.

Around her, the other kids in the classroom were copying along with Iruka, but the sunshine streaming through the window was hitting Ayame's desk and making her feel warm. She wanted to bask in it, like her cat at home. Outside, she could see the other class running around and playing. Hana and Yuna, both children, waved at her, even though Yuna was too old to get recess anymore and Hana was no longer in school.

She waved back, finding a neon blue nail polish on her kid-sized hand and a series of beaded bracelets on her wrist.

"Ayame-chan, if you've got enough time to daydream, would you care to show the class how to multiply a clone?"

Her head whipped back to Iruka. A clone? Weren't they just doing math a few minutes earlier? She glanced around her, finding to her dismay that everyone else was staring. A couple of kids, including that annoying girl, the baker's daughter, were sniggering, and she stuck out her tongue at them. She noticed they all wore the shinobi headband of the leaf, and when she touched her forehead, she realized that she was, too. Her eyes went wide.

Oh no… How in the world did she get into this classroom? They were going to find her out. She wasn't a kunoichi! What would they do when they realized? They'd kick her out of the Academy, and she would run back to her Otou-san, and he'd be so disappointed in her. He always wanted a kunoichi for a daughter. Ramen wasn't a career, didn't he keep telling her that?

She stood up slowly, her chair making a long scratching sound as it dragged along the floor. She walked to the front of the class. Iruka looked so much taller than she remembered him, much more imposing and stern. It was scary. Still, most of the girls in the class had a crush on him, and she had to agree that he was pretty hot, for a teacher.

Ayame took a deep breath, wondering if she even knew the hand seals to do the clone jutsu. She'd watched Naruto try them over and over again, hadn't she? Oh but she was growing nervous. They were all going to ridicule her, and she was going to make a fool of herself in front of Iruka. She looked down at her hands and realized she was still holding her cup of tea.

It had somehow turned black and dark, like a thick syrup. The scent was off, and yet she was fascinated by it. Hadn't it just been a cup of chrysanthemum tea just a few minutes earlier? Iruka wouldn't give her something weird, would he?

She lifted it to her lips, wondering what it would taste like. Maybe if she made herself sick, she could get excused from this exercise and figure out another way to fool the class.

The tea tasted like slick oil and bitter herbs and rotten meat. It was the worst combination of flavors that she could have tried to combine. It turned her stomach immediately and she spit it out, spewing it over the first row of kids in the classroom.

Ayame was mortified, but she was glad that she'd at least managed to spray the baker's daughter most of all with the nasty stuff.

"Ayame!" the girl cried out, starting to freak out.

Ayame was smug, even though the rest of the class was laughing at her. She looked up to Iruka, hoping he wouldn't make her do the clone jutsu now. He gave her a stern look.

"Ayame!" He said, but he continued saying it over and over again. The tone of his voice changed from anger to insistence, like he was trying to get her attention. She didn't know why…she was staring right at him.

"Ayame!"

She opened her eyes, and just like that, she was back in the teacher's lounge, fully adult, and sitting in front of Iruka. He wiped his face and flung droplets of liquid from his hand.

Ayame's heart went cold. She immediately looked down at her cup. It was empty. "Did I…?" Had she truly been caught in his genjutsu, only to spit her tea all over him in real life?

Iruka wiped his face on his sleeve, looking around for anything with which to dry himself. "You did. Impressive, really."

Ayame opened her mouth to speak, but she had no words. When she found her voice, she apologized profusely. "Iruka…! I'm so sorry!" She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, reaching out to dab tea from his temples. He took it from her and continued wiping his face off.

"Usually, that type of genjutsu renders someone trapped in their own mind and unable to move," he said, shaking his head and frowning. "But not you."

"Ha," she said nervously, "Did you mean to make that taste so nasty?"

"No…that was all you. That particular jutsu is meant to produce low levels of anxiety, nervousness, and discomfort."

"Well that makes sense. Poor quality food really stresses me out."

Iruka cracked a smile. "You've got a strong will, to escape it like that...drinking something of your own volition while trapped in the jutsu."

Ayame grinned. "Otou-san says I'm very stubborn…I was just looking for a way to avoid embarrassment." She told him about what she saw as a student in his classroom.

He laughed. "I wouldn't have guessed that school was stressful for you."

"I hated school," she admitted. "I didn't have a lot of friends in my class, and the restaurant was my refuge."

"I understand that," Iruka said reflectively. "School wasn't great for me, either."

"Strange, because it seems to be good for you now," she teased. "How did you do that genjutsu though? You didn't use any hand seals." She was amazed at how seamlessly their conversation had morphed into the jutsu, and how, despite all the idiosyncrasies, she hadn't realized it wasn't reality.

"Hand seals aren't always necessary, but that depends on skill level."

She nodded. She had seen others use ninjutsu or summon without hand seals. It made sense that genjutsu would work similarly. Another thought crossed her mind. "How do you escape a genjutsu?"

Iruka cocked his head. "Do you want the academic answer? Or…?"

She giggled, glad he was being playful. "Preferably an answer I can understand."

"You have to disrupt your own chakra network. That reduces the control the caster has. Shinobi can do it a number of ways, but strong smells or sensations can also break you out, which obviously would work for civilians as well. Why so many questions, Ayame? This is the first time you've shown interest in any sort of jutsu."

She paused. Initially, she was just trying to engage him in some sort of conversation, but after all the unpacking of her dreams that she did with her friends, she'd grown truly interested in understanding how her mind worked. "Your students, actually. And the Tsukuyomi. The psychology of it all is really throwing me for a loop."

"In what way?"

"Well…like just now…I saw things that I thought were real, but in hindsight were rather ridiculous. It makes me wonder if the things I saw in my Tsukuyomi were equally ridiculous…"

Iruka was quiet for a moment. "No," he said. "That genjutsu was extremely powerful. The root of our dreams…our inner longing, is real. The output, the dream, if you will, feels real even after we've awoken.

"My students and I did an exercise to walk through what was real and not real," he continued. "The non-real aspects of the Infinite Tsukuyomi are so disguised as being real that it's difficult to make the distinction sometimes, but it helps disable the long-lasting psychological effects."

That was sobering. "Why do you think our desires took the shape and form that they did?" she asked.

"Well…you want to be a famous chef, right?"

She let out an embarrassed laugh. The way he said it made her feel superficial. "No, not really." She grew quieter. "What I loved from my dream was the feeling of serving people, and the comfort I could give them with my food. Being well known and famous just meant that I could reach more people."

Iruka smiled then, a genuine smile like she hadn't seen in a long time. "That's beautiful, Ayame. But I think your food already does that."

She blushed. "This might sound funny, but in my Tsukuyomi, my food healed people. It was so good that it ended arguments, resolved conflicts, and restored relationships. People left the restaurant with the energy and motivation to face their own challenges. You have to admit that's a little ridiculous." She paused. "But…I've seen Otou-san's cooking change people's hearts. I want to do the same thing."

Iruka tapped his chopsticks on the side of his bowl. He didn't laugh at her, and she was grateful for that. "Ayame…it's not your father's cooking that does it. It's his kindness." He looked down at his own bowl of ramen and smiled. "Although the food helps."

He hesitated, and then asked her another question, much more subdued. "What about…the family you saw?"

"My desire for family is real. What it looked like though? Probably not real."

"So…Kakashi…?"

She wondered why he was still caught up on the Kakashi bit, but she had to set that straight. "Not real," she told him.

"Really?" Iruka looked surprised by this.

She grinned. "Yeah. I think he's super attractive, but he can't be the true object of my desires if it's this easy to let him go in real life. What about you?"

Iruka sighed. "I think the things I saw in my Tsukuyomi are actually a reflection of my deepest fear."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Being alone."

Ayame stared at him. Iruka wasn't alone…was he? People loved him, and he had a good community.

"Let me clarify," he said upon seeing the look on her face. "My fear is that I'll never find the same type of relationship that I had with my parents when they were alive. Unconditional, devoted, familial love."

Oh. So that's why he grew depressed every time they talked about relationships, and why finding a partner in his Tsukuyomi was so important to him. In fact, that was the only part about his Tsukuyomi that he ever shared. Family was central to his own desires. But…he had people who cared about him like that. Right?

"What about Naruto?" she asked.

Iruka slowly raised a pair of sad eyes. "Naruto is getting married. His priority will - and should - be Hinata. I will always be secondary."

"I don't think Naruto sees you as secondary," Ayame protested.

"Teachers play supporting roles in the lives of their students. But that's just it. A supporting role."

Was this what Iruka thought of himself? "But Naruto isn't secondary in your life," she argued, "he's like family to you."

"He is."

"So…" Ayame was trying to fit all of this together. "You're afraid that the people you're unconditionally devoted to don't see you that way in return."

"Yes."

Oh, how this tore at Ayame's heart.

"Don't look so sad, Ayame," came Iruka's voice. He was smiling kindly at her. "It's just my fear, not reality."

"But it's your fear because you've experienced it before."

This observation surprised him. They watched each other silently for a long time. "Yes, I suppose so," he finally said.

"Iruka…" she said carefully. "Come back to the restaurant. You're not secondary to me and Otou-san, either."

Then, she did something that surprised even herself. She reached out her hand and put it over Iruka's in a gesture of companionship, and she said, "As long as I'm here, you don't have to be alone."

The touch was simple, but Iruka's fingers moved instinctively and wrapped around hers, and he gave her hand a comforting squeeze. His response made her butterflies come to life, but before she could say anything, a clock somewhere in the room began to chime.

At the abrupt sound, Ayame pulled her hand away. "Is it ten already?" She'd been with Iruka much longer than she anticipated. Hana and Yuna would be wondering where she was.

"Right!" Iruka was equally flustered. "You should be getting home."

She thanked him for the tea, and he walked her to the entrance. No windows this time.

"Thanks for the ramen, Ayame."

She met his eyes and smiled coyly, replying with the word that originally made her butterflies soar. "Always."

Iruka watched Ayame leave, then locked the door behind her.

Did I miss something?

He walked back to his desk in the teacher's lounge, feeling guilty. He was now completely distracted from writing his final exam questions. Somehow, the actions of women always confused him.

He stared at his hand, where he'd touched Ayame, and he sighed, letting his head drop.

Am I…an idiot?

Months ago, when Iruka found out that Kakashi was the dream man in Ayame's Tsukuyomi, he couldn't bring himself to eat at Ichiraku anymore. The truth was, he didn't go there on a weekly basis just for the ramen. He went because he liked Ayame. For years, he'd gone just to watch her, never able to actually say the words, 'would you like to go on a date?' And then, he'd found out that Kakashi was the man of her dreams, and that had been an even bigger blow to his already abysmal self-confidence.

But Ayame…Ayame was the woman of Iruka's dreams. Literally. He had married her in his own Infinite Tsukuyomi. Raised kids with her. And that was something he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to admit.

He'd asked himself the question over and over again. Was his desire for her real? Or not real? But his dream was the culmination of the years he spent being attracted to her and never making a move. He doubted himself too much, afraid of both rejection and embarrassment. He also harbored the fear that if she did date him, she'd realize he was a loser. Especially if she found out how deep his attraction ran, and that she was the object of his Tsukuyomi.

Iruka first noticed Ayame because he was drawn to the rapport she had with Naruto. He had never taken the time to notice how much Teuchi and his daughter were a lifeline for Naruto in his younger years, but once he saw it, it helped him resolve to do better as the boy's mentor, as well. His crush on her started developing around the time when Naruto was training with Jiraiya. In Naruto's absence, Iruka frequented the restaurant alone, and Ayame would talk with him.

Those early days, she asked a lot about what being a teacher was like, and she was more interested in his ability to work with kids, rather than his abilities as a shinobi. He liked that. She was always optimistic, and when he asked whether she ever wanted to be a ninja, she told him that she wouldn't want to do anything that would take her away from her father. She was family-oriented, and that made Iruka yearn for his own parents.

He didn't acknowledge his crush then, even to himself, because he felt weird about it. Ayame was not yet eighteen, and Iruka was going on twenty-five. But, his feelings only continued to develop the older she got, especially as their age difference stopped mattering.

He liked Ayame's confidence, her intensity, and her competitive nature, and he was particularly attracted to her passion. She gave everything she had to her craft, just as he did to teaching.

Iruka never considered Ayame might be interested in him, but then he stopped going to Ichiraku, and she started showing up. Again, and again. He never expected he would find her sneaking through windows to bring him ramen.

A knock at the door caught his attention, and he turned around, only to find Seika carrying a large box that rattled around.

"I didn't think I'd find you still here," she told him.

"How did you get in?" He was sure he'd locked the front door after Ayame left.

"One of the teachers leaves the window open."

Damn. He'd forgotten about it after Ayame's less-than-secret entrance. Iruka was going to have to have a serious talk with Sadoru.

Seika came in and set the box down on the desk. "Did I just pass Ayame?"

Iruka sighed. "She's been bringing me dinner every Thursday night."

"I thought you went to Ichiraku every Thursday night," Seika mused.

"I did…but then I stopped and she started coming here."

Seika appraised him. Iruka always felt like the woman's blue eyes saw more than they let on. "And you stopped going because…?" she probed.

"Work," he said quickly. "But Ayame seems keen on continuing to make sure I'm fed."

"Mmhmm. I don't think she's coming just to feed you."

"What do you mean?" Iruka asked, wary about what Seika might say. He wasn't ready to admit what he already felt inside. "You do small tasks like this all the time. Medicine deliveries, laundry, groceries."

"And I don't do them just to meet physical needs," she said quietly.

Iruka sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. "She's coming because she cares about me, I know," he admitted reluctantly.

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"I just don't think I'm her type," he said. "She wants someone strong, cool, handsome, put together…someone more like Kakashi. Not someone like me."

"Nobody should want someone like Kakashi…" Seika said with a cynical laugh.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot that you don't like him." Seika had recently started working with the Hokage's office more regularly, and Iruka hoped that meant that Kakashi had revealed his identity. It left him uneasy knowing that Kakashi would lie to a woman like that for so long.

"It's not that I don't like him," she said. "He's just…not what everyone assumes that he is. Anyway, I would bet that Ayame is coming because she enjoys your company. Give yourself a chance, Iruka. You're not as boring as you think you are."

He laughed nervously. Was it obvious what he thought of himself? "I'm no Kakashi, though."

"You don't need to be. She's not bringing meals to him, I can assure you of that." She paused. "Is Ayame your type?"

Iruka shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with this direct question. "Maybe."

"Then just show her that you care."

He sighed. Seika was right. If Ayame was going to go out of her way for him, he needed to step it up and show her that he appreciated and saw her concern. He wasn't being a very good friend to her, he realized. Or to Kakashi for that matter. He didn't like carrying around resentment for the Hokage.

"You know," he began, "I've known Kakashi for a long time, and he cares much more than he lets on, despite the walls he puts up. He has a big heart."

She looked away, a soft smile gracing her face. "I know," she said quietly.

He decided to hazard a question. "Is Kakashi your type?" If they were going to have this conversation, he at least wanted to know.

Seika's lips curled ever so slightly, but she didn't answer the question.

He tried another approach. "He and Sukea are quite similar, don't you think?"

Her head whipped back at him, surprise in her eyes. "How do you know?"

Iruka grinned, his suspicions confirmed. "Know what?"

Seika gave him a wry smile. "I've underestimated you, Iruka-sensei."

"It happens all the time," he replied. "By the way, is everything okay?"

"Yes…why?"

"You've got a bruise of some sort, right here…" Iruka pointed to a spot high on his neck, mirroring where there was a blemish on her skin. He had seen it when she turned her head. It was circular and red, just starting to turn purple.

Seika walked towards a small mirror that sat on an adjacent teacher's desk, craning her neck to see in the reflection. She frowned when she saw the spot. "That bastard," she muttered under her breath, but Iruka heard her. She immediately raised her hand to the spot, and he saw the faint green tinge of healing chakra. In mere seconds, the bruise was totally gone.

"Did you get in a fight?" Iruka asked, jokingly, but when Seika turned back to him, he was surprised to see that her cheeks were tinted quite a pretty shade of pink. And then he realized what the bruise was, and he blushed himself at his accidental exposure of her past intimacy. She and Kakashi were apparently much closer than he thought.

"Nobody should want someone like Kakashi, huh?" he muttered skeptically, eyebrows raised high.

She couldn't quite make eye contact, her blush still painted across her face. "You're funny," she told him quietly.

He frowned. "Why?"

"Because you notice all sorts of things…but you're so blind when it comes to yourself."

Iruka sat, stunned by Seika's words.

She tapped the box, quickly changing the subject. "I brought you some more training weapons, old things from Namiashi's shop that should work for your students." She turned to leave. "Don't stay up too late," she said, and then as silently as she arrived, she was gone.

Alone again, Iruka leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a long time. He contemplated the evening's disruptions. What did Seika mean, that he was blind when it came to himself? Was she referring to Ayame's visits?

At the thought of Ayame, he smiled. He couldn't help smiling, whenever she entered his mind...she always did the unexpected, managing to paint a splash of color onto his otherwise repetitive life.

He reached out and picked up her handkerchief, still sitting on his desk and stained with chrysanthemum tea, and he made a plan. He'd wash it and return it next week. He'd show up to Ichiraku, early, with a fat pocketbook, and he'd pay for every meal Ayame had brought him. There was no better way to get in Teuchi's good graces. He wondered how Ayame would take his return. She'd be thrilled to learn that Kakashi and Seika were on good terms if she didn't know already.

He shook his head. Am I an idiot?

He sighed and stood up, intending to close and lock that pesky window in Sadoru's classroom. He was certainly an idiot for leaving that open.