Past Lives

by masc_malfunction

Summary:

Iruka Umino was having a terrible day.

His day didn't start this bad. He would describe it as normal, even. Nothing at all in the many waking hours Iruka had spent up until now had given him any kind of indication of what was to come.

Which was, as it turns out, that while he was walking home through a narrow path in the trees, someone was going to throw a knife at him.

When Iruka managed to open his eyes, he froze.

There was a man pinning Iruka to the tree by his forearm. He had an elaborately painted dog mask, a single blood-red eye, and a second knife poised against Iruka's neck.

Iruka's life was normal. Routine. Boring, even. And he was okay with it. He was satisfied, he really was. All of these feelings of loneliness, or like he didn't belong were just normal graduation anxiety, he's sure.

But then a stranger crashed onto the scene, bringing powerful, long-lost knowledge and a mystery that's centuries old. And suddenly, Iruka finds himself diving headfirst into a world he had only known legends about...with a man unlike anyone he's ever met.

Chapter 1

Iruka Umino was having a terrible day.

 

Now, ordinarily, Iruka tried his best to keep everything in perspective. All things considered, he definitely had it pretty good. There was no point in being melodramatic; he was well aware that, in any regular circumstance, many others definitely had it worse off.

 

These, however, were a far cry from Iruka's regular circumstances.

 

His day didn't start this bad. He would describe it as normal, even. Nothing at all in the many waking hours Iruka had spent up until now had given him any kind of indication of what was to come.

 

Which was, as it turns out, that while he was walking home through a narrow path in the trees, someone was going to throw a knife at him. A big one. And it was going to fly so close to his face that he felt the air move with it, and it was going to hit the tree beside him. Hard .

 

Before Iruka could even fully comprehend what it was that had come very close to killing him, before he could even fully turn toward the source of the knife, something hit Iruka's chest. It sent him falling backwards with a shout, crying out in pain when first his shoulders, and then his head slammed back against the very same tree that caught the knife.

 

When Iruka managed to open his eyes, he froze.

 

There was a man pinning Iruka to the tree by his forearm. He had an elaborately painted dog mask, a single blood-red eye, and a second knife poised against Iruka's neck.

 

“Wh—ow!” Iruka cut himself off with a gasp, as the masked man pressed down firmer with both his arm and his blade. He was wearing metal armor on his forearms, and it dug into Iruka's chest almost as painfully as the rough tree bark dug into his back.

 

“Where am I?” the man all but growled, narrowing his eyes in a glare and pressing his blade in harder. “What have you done to me?”

 

“I didn't do anything!” Iruka protested, far too terrified of the threat from the knife to attempt pushing the man off. The act of speaking alone caused the tip of the blade to press painfully against his throat, and he attempted to lean further into the tree to avoid it. “I don't—“

 

“Do not lie to me!” The man's voice was louder, growing wild. “What do you want from me?”

 

“I want you to let me go!” Iruka cried, starting to shake with the strain of pressing away from his attacker's knife. “I don't know what you're talking about! I don't even know who you are!”

 

Iruka's voice broke on the words, and he was unable to stop the tears welling in his eyes. This man might actually kill him. This crazy man with knives was going to kill him in the fucking woods.

 

“Please,” Iruka had the fleeting thought, somewhere in his mind, that he should be too proud to beg. But right now, actually faced with any threat, he absolutely was not. He felt the first hot tear spill over cheek, and he blinked rapidly in an attempt to keep his vision clear. “Please—don't kill me.”

 

Maybe it was the tears. Maybe it was the begging. Iruka would never know what it truly was, but in that moment, the masked man's eyes grew wide and round. His posture straightened suddenly, and while it wasn't enough to free him, his hold on Iruka loosened just enough.

 

“You,” his voice was quieter now, but still rough. Still with a wild edge. “You are a civilian?”

 

“Wha—yes!” Iruka gasped out, chancing the smallest, quickest nod, now that there was distance between him and the tip of the blade. “I'm a civilian. Please—“

 

“Tell me,” he cut him off, voice stern even as he lowered his knife, stowing it inside his armor. “What village is this?”

 

“Village?” Iruka felt himself calming down just slightly, and the lack of terror was giving way to new confusion. Death no longer felt imminent, but his heart and mind were now still racing. “I don't know what you're talking ab—“

 

“What village are you from?” his voice rose again, in obvious frustration.

 

“What are you, some kind of—reenactor, or something?” Iruka huffed out a hard breath, feeling the blind panic and confusion both starting to turn into anger of his own. “Because whatever game you're playing, I'm not involved!”

 

“I do not know what that word is,” the man pressed his forearm in hard again, in response to Iruka's growing aggression. “And this is not a game.”

 

“Well whatever it is, I'm not involved!” Iruka was shouting now, and starting to struggle back against the hold. “Let me go, you freak!”

 

Iruka kicked out at the man's ribs, hoping maybe the force of it could get him to drop the arm across his chest. And it did, however, he dropped it in order to catch Iruka's ankle, pulling him off-balance and sending him to the ground. He landed on top of Iruka's back hard, forcing the air out of his lungs, twisting an arm behind his back painfully.

 

“You cannot fight,” the man spoke plainly. “Just tell me what I need to know. Where are we?”

 

“You're in the fucking woods!” Iruka cried out. “The woods just past Garden City! I'm not from a village and I don't know anybody who is!”

 

“What Nation are we in? How far from the borders of the Land of Fire?”

 

“The Land of—what year do you think it is?”

 

“It is the sixth year of the Lord Sandaime's second term,” the man said, pressing his weight into Iruka's arm. “I am certain of this.”

 

“I—listen, are you sure you're not a reeinactor?” Iruka huffed out, impatient. “Because—”

 

“I do not know what that is,” he repeated himself, clearly growing agitated again. “I am a member of Lord Sandaime's ANBU!”

 

“Okay, see, no you're not,” Iruka winced when his arm was twisted sharply again, but he did not back down. “There hasn't been a—it's been, like, six hundred years since ANBU existed!”

 

“Do not lie to me!”

 

“I'm not lying!” Iruka groaned, using his free arm to try and push his face away from the dirt. “The Land of Fire doesn't exist anymore, we don't have a Kage, and we definitely don't have ninja!”

 

“This...this is a genjutsu,” the man spoke, softer this time, as if he was talking to himself. “This is a strong genjutsu. And if I can't get it to release on my own, I...”

 

The man's grip tightened on Iruka's wrist as he trailed off, and Iruka's mind was racing trying to come up with some kind of plan. This man was obviously going through something. He thought he was a ninja. Serving under a Kage. And he thought he was under a genjutsu—something that Iruka remembered from his seminars about the time period was theorized to have been weaponized application of hallucinogenics—it's possible that he was not in his right mind.

 

“Hey,” Iruka spoke up, having cooled down enough to remember he should exercise caution. “Listen. Clearly you're...lost,” he began, hoping his voice was coming off more friendly than it was terrified and confused. He was quickly reaching the point where he was willing to try anything. “But I'm not gonna hurt you. I don't think I could even if I wanted to. Please, let me up. I can help.”

 

“No!” the man growled, grabbing Iruka's other wrist off the ground and twisting it so his arms met at his mid-back, holding both his wrists in one hand and pressing his face into the dirt again. “For all I know, you cast this genjutsu to make me believe you are so weak!”

 

“I didn't cast anything!” Iruka protested, turning his face to the side to try and avoid eating the dirt his nose was being rubbed into. “Please, I promise I'm not trying to—trick you, or hurt you, or cast any spells or whatever. I was just trying to go home!”

 

The man was silent and unmoving above Iruka for a long moment. Iruka could feel him, his harsh, heavy breaths, his hand loosen and then tighten again around his wrists. He could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

 

“Please,” Iruka whispered. “I know you're—confused, and scared, and—so am I. Let me help. Let me try.”

 

Slowly, cautiously, the man released the hold on Iruka's wrists. He rose up on his own knees, enough to release some of the pressure on Iruka's back, and Iruka couldn't help but let out a small groan of relief.

 

“I...am going to move off of you,” the man spoke softly, but his voice was still rough. “If you try to run—”

 

“I won't,” Iruka insisted. “I promise. I'll even stay on the ground, if you want.”

 

The pressure lifted off Iruka's back completely, and he took in a deep, full breath. True to his word, he made no move to stand.. He didn't even turn around to face the other man.

 

“Okay,” Iruka began, taking care to leave his hands well and truly in sight. “You...you're here alone?”

 

“Yes,” The man spoke, answering after a considerable pause. “I am.”

 

“That. That must be scary,” Iruka moved slowly, turning around so he was sat on the ground, looking up at his attacker. “How long have you been...here?”

 

“Not long,” the man stood above him, weapons stowed and arms folded. Iruka knew better than to think that he wasn't attack-ready. “I woke by myself early this morning. I have been scouting this forest since that time, for information. You are the first man I found.”

 

“Lucky me,” Iruka muttered, letting out a short sigh. “Can you tell me...what it is that you're looking for?”

 

“No.”

 

“Really?” Iruka sighed again, waiting a beat to see if he might change his answer, but he remained silent. Iruka pressed his palm gently against his forehead, willing his headache to settle. “Okay. It's kinda hard to help you if I don't even know what you want.”

 

“I just need my bearings,” he spoke flatly, clearly mirroring Iruka's growing frustrations. “This is why I asked you which village was nearest.”

 

“And I told you,” Iruka rolled his eyes. “No village, but you're on the outskirts of Garden City. I just came from there.”

 

“Which is not in the Land of Fire?”

 

“No—well,” Iruka shrugged a shoulder, reaching up to scratch at his scar absentmindedly. “Yes and no, I guess.”

 

The man's eyes narrowed behind his mask. “Explain.”

 

“If the Land of Fire still existed—which it doesn't, by the way, not for a long time—that's where we would be.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I really don't know how else to say it,” Iruka sighed. “Land of Fire, Land of Earth, Wind, all of that—the Elemental Nations collapsed. Centuries ago. They're nothing but fossils.”

 

“You—you are ly—”

 

“I'm not lying,” Iruka insisted, shaking his head. Maybe bluntness will shake this guy out of whatever universe he thought he was in. “That's ancient history. Nobody alive remembers the Elemental Nations. Hell, nobody's great-great-grandma would remember the Elemental Nations.”

 

“That—that is impossible.”

 

“Listen,” Iruka moved to stand, slowly still, in case he spooked this strange, violent man. “I know that you—whatever's happened to you, you believe you're from the Land of Fire. But that is what's impossible. Everyone from the Land of Fire is long dead.”

 

“That cannot be,” the man's voice grew stronger, and he stepped closer. “I do not know what you gain from this, but—”

 

“What I gain from this?” Iruka laughed, loud and incredulous. “I have gained nothing from this but new bruises and dirty clothes! I'm just trying to go home!”

 

“So am I!”

 

The confession was sudden, loud and filled with emotion, and it startled Iruka into silence. The man had started to shake, just slightly, and Iruka couldn't tell if it was because of his emotions, or the effort it took to contain them. Iruka was struck, suddenly, with the squirmings of guilt for how harsh he spoke before.

 

“Okay,” Iruka sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face slowly. “Look. We can't figure out anything in the woods, right?”

 

The masked man was silent, which Iruka took as his cue to continue.

 

“If you don't know where—or when—you are...I can assume you probably have nowhere to go?”

 

Iruka received a curt nod in response.

 

“Come stay with me,” Iruka offered, despite the personification of his better judgment screaming bloody murder at him inside his brain. “You can have a hot meal, and sleep somewhere safe, and...we can figure this out?”

 

“Why?” The man's eyes narrowed again, and the line of his shoulders was tense and stiff. “Why would you offer your home to me?”

 

Iruka laughed, shaking his head gently. He had spoken aloud exactly what Iruka's own brain had been screaming at him this entire time.

 

“I'm an idiot, I guess,” Iruka shrugged. “With a goddamn bleeding heart. But really, I figured you had ample opportunity to kill me right now, and you didn't. So I probably won't be more at risk in my house.”

 

The man seemed to consider Iruka for a long moment, completely stoic and unmoving. Iruka let out another sigh, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

 

“It's not a trap, or whatever you're thinking. If you don't wanna come, fine, but let me go.”

 

“Fine,” the man eventually agreed, finally stowing his weapon fully away. “Lead the way.”

Notes:

yes, Garden City WAS the first city name pulled from a city name generator website. It's a real place I believe in the US uhhhh and it was just generic enough while also being also abt plants and that was thematic enough for me. I love worldbuilding.

Anyway I'm so excited for this one, I've been planning it for ages and I'm stoked to finally get started posting it. It's sure to be a wild ride and I can't wait to share it with you all. Your thoughts and comments as always make my day! <3

Chapter 2

Iruka felt himself hesitate to turn his back to the masked man, but quickly shook the worry off. He meant what he said before, and believed that he wasn't at risk. Not really. He started back on his path towards home, chewing on the corner of his lower lip for several long seconds of silence before finally needing to break it.

 

“I'm Iruka, by the way,” he glanced over his shoulder as he walked, meeting the two-toned stare and just barely managing to suppress the resulting shiver. “Um. What's your name?”

 

“You may call me Hound.” His tone was stern when he spoke, the sentence delivered more as a command than the offer it was phrased as.

 

“Seriously?” Iruka wrinkled his nose, only just managing not to roll his eyes. “You gonna keep the mask on the whole time, too?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Suit yourself,” Iruka did roll his eyes then, rounding a corner on the path and walking out onto a wider dirt road. He lead his strange new shadow past a small handful of narrow paths that lead to neighboring homes, before turning down the very nearly hidden path that lead to his own.

 

His house was small, well-concealed in a shady pocket of trees, the quiet of the area making it seem much more remote than it actually is. Iruka let himself in, holding the door open for his companion before shutting and locking it behind them. He kicked his shoes off haphazardly, his brows raising in mild surprise as Hound knelt down beside him to carefully remove his own boots.

 

“Um,” Iruka's voice broke, just a little, on the syllable, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Are you, uh. Are you...hungry at all?”

 

The man looked up from his position on the ground, slowly rising up to stand after neatly tucking his boots against the wall, considering the question silently. He held Iruka's eyes for several long seconds, until Iruka started to feel slightly fidgety.

 

“It's not a hard question,” he muttered, feeling more exposed under the two-toned gaze than he would have liked to admit. “I'm gonna make food. Do you want some?”

 

“Yes,” Hound blinked slowly, finally looking anywhere else. “Please.”

 

“Okay.” Iruka breathed out a short sigh, before heading, mercifully unaccompanied, into his kitchen. He spared a single, passing thought in worry of what his strange guest might make of the rest of his home unsupervised, but found that he was more relieved to have some time unobserved than he was worried about keeping an eye on him.

 

He got lost in his cooking fairly easily, the routine of chopping and stirring lulling his mind out of fight-or-flight for the first time since his back hit the tree in the forest. He was so absorbed in the routine of cooking, in fact, that he almost dropped an entire cutting board of sliced green onions when he caught a glimpse of Hound in his peripheral vision.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he cursed under his breath, setting the onions safely on the countertop and willing his heartbeat to settle. “Make noise when you walk, I'm begging.”

 

Hound cocked his head just so, looking very much like his namesake in his confusion. “I am...sorry,” he spoke slowly, awkwardly. “I will try to.”

 

“Normally, people have to try to walk silently,” Iruka raised an eyebrow, pulling his thrown-together stir fry off the heat and starting to dish rice into bowls. The house he lived in was far from new, it made noise at Iruka's every move. Even knowing it as well as he did, Iruka probably couldn't walk through his own kitchen silently. “How long have you been...working?”

 

Iruka wouldn't consider himself an expert in Elemental Nations era history. But he studied it, possibly moreso than most people. He knew what the ANBU did, what they were capable of. It would make sense that Hound moved in total silence, though it was almost unbelievable to witness. This man must be incredibly skilled. Iruka tried not to think too hard about the other skills that ANBU were known for.

 

“Five years,” Hound spoke. “In ANBU. Thirteen, as a Shinobi.”

 

“Thirteen?” Iruka gawked a little. He had assumed that Hound was similar in age to him, but he must be wrong.He supposed it was hard to tell, with the full mask. He knew that the Elemental Nations started training ninja when they were young, but surely he wouldn't be considered working as a ninja before he would even have passed elementary school. “Wow. No wonder you're so good at that, then.”

 

Hound blinked at him owlishly, seemingly taken off guard by that statement, too. “Thank you.” he said, his voice stilted and awkward, though Iruka couldn't be sure if it was in response to the compliment or the bowl of dinner Iruka just handed him.

 

“Yeah, you're welcome,” Iruka paused, then, looking at the bowl in Hound's hands, to his masked face, and then back. “Um. If you want to eat alone—of course you do, I'm sorry, I'll. I'll go to my room?”

 

“You...do not have to leave,” Hound looked down at the food. “It is fine.”

 

“But your mask,” Iruka protested. “Don't you want to eat comfortably?”

 

“You...would really go?”

 

Iruka shrugged. “I mean. It seems like the easiest way for you to keep your...privacy.”

 

Hound stayed silent for another long beat, still avoiding Iruka's eyes. “I...thank you.”

 

“Sure,” Iruka felt himself smile a little, despite himself. Elite feudal government assassin or no, this guy was so awkward . It was charming, somehow, even through the uneasiness. “I'll just be in the other room, Let me know if you need anything.”

 

Iruka turned and left without waiting for a response, leaving his bedroom door open just a crack. Just enough to be able to hear, he figured. Not, he acknowledged, that he'd be able to hear any noise Hound makes without his consent.

 

Iruka sat heavily at his desk, letting out a short, weak laugh on a huff of breath. What was he doing? He'd not only brought this man home—fed him, no less—and left him alone in his house? Maybe this man hadn't lost his mind, but Iruka was starting to wonder if he hadn't. Because now, currently, it seemed as though the best-case scenario was that he had a time-traveling ninja in his kitchen. And that sounded much more like a cheesy fantasy soap opera plot than anything that actually happened in real life .

 

Iruka sighed heavily, pushing aside the stacks of work that should be getting his attention in favor of pulling out one of his massive history textbooks from four semesters ago. He picked at his bowl of dinner as he began flipping through the chapters on the Elemental Nations. He knew that this city was once considered part of the Land of Fire, which meant it was likely that his mystery ninja would hail from Konohagakure. That, at least, seemed to be the biggest political power in Fire Country. Definitely the strongest military power. And, while Iruka was hardly the best judge, Hound seemed to be very skilled. He probably came from a powerful nation.

 

Iruka flipped to the index, quickly scanning the columns of text and locating what he was after. ANBU were covered in several chapters, depending on which nation's villages and which area of specialty was being covered. Iruka turned to the first overview on Konoha ANBU, settling in with his dinner. He was going to get to the bottom of this. First step: do a little old-fashioned fact-checking. If this guy really was ANBU, (and Iruka truly could not believe that he was actually considering this,) then something in this book would help corroborate it.

 

Somehow, the more Iruka read, the more he found himself solidly convinced that Hound was, somehow , telling the truth. The recorded armor and masks looked accurate, the symbol tattooed on his shoulder showed up in multiple records, and all the things he said about 'Lord Sandaime's second reign' seemed to all line up. Those facts, combined with his bloodred eye and obvious skill in combat?

 

This man was either a serious history buff, or he was a fucking ninja.

 

Iruka laughed weakly to himself, scrubbing his hands down his face slowly until it stretched his lower eyelids uncomfortably. What was he doing? He had a real life. He had dishes to wash, and assignments to do, and he was sitting here doing research and convincing himself he met a time traveler . Maybe hitting that tree knocked him silly.

 

But what other options to explain did he have?

 

He pushed himself away from his desk abruptly, grabbing his mostly empty dinner bowl and hesitating with his hand on the doorknob. What if Hound wasn't finished? He'd taken a while to eat himself, but that didn't mean Hound wouldn't still be unmasked. The last thing Iruka wanted was to startle him. It could be deadly.

 

He opened his bedroom door slowly, but noisily, telegraphing his movement as much as possible before entering the hallway.

 

When he did glance back toward his sitting room, he felt himself relax just a little. Hound had evidently finished eating, and seemed in fact to be quite absorbed in Iruka's bookshelf. He glanced over his shoulder as Iruka approached, his gaze tracking his path to the kitchen.

 

“Thank you, again,” Hound spoke quietly, slowly turning his head back to face the bookshelf, though the tense line of his shoulders betrayed that he had not dropped his guard. “For the meal. And the...privacy.”

 

“You're welcome,” Iruka murmured, picking up Hound's bowl as well as his own and starting to wash the dinner dishes. His eye was frequently drawn to Hound, however, as he continued to look over the books in Iruka's collection. “Do you like to read?”

 

Hound seemed to startle, just slightly, at the question. “I do,” he spoke after some consideration. “I do not often have time to, recently.”

 

“Well. You're welcome to read anything of mine, if you like,” Iruka offered easily. “I don't know what genre you prefer, but—”

 

“Romance.”

 

Iruka's jaw snapped shut with an audible click, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. “Wh—really?”

 

Hound's posture straightened abruptly, but otherwise his emotional response remained imperceivable. “Yes.”

 

“S-sorry,” Iruka stammered, setting his dishes aside to dry, before moving to stand next to Hound at his bookshelves. “I didn't mean to—I like romance, too,” he trailed his fingers over the spines on the shelf, searching. “I wasn't judging. Just surprised.”

 

He stopped when he reached a familiar, well-worn book, pulling it off the shelf and offering it to Hound. “This is my favorite romance book. If. If you wanted to try it.”

 

Hound reached out slowly, taking the book from Iruka and looking it over appraisingly. The book must have passed whatever inspection he was doing, because he suddenly dropped into a seat where he stood on the floor, opening the book immediately.

 

Iruka let out a short, quick laugh, shaking his head gently. “Okay. I have some work to do, in my room. Let me know if you need anything, I guess.”

 

Predictably, Iruka received no answer. He made his way back to his room, sparing one more glance at his open history textbooks, before opening his laptop with a heavy sigh.

 

History research was one thing. It was his thing, even. But Iruka didn't even know where one would start researching time travel. He didn't even know if anyone ever even did research on it where the subject was actually taken seriously. He was in for a long night of sifting through questionable sources, that was for damn sure.

Notes:

Iruka "I can study my way out of this" Umino everybody

I hope y'all are having fun with this one, bc I am having a blast. Your thoughts and comments make my day! <3