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Routine. The sharp, startled intake of breath before heavy silence. The chilling slide of steel across flesh. The sickening give of the skin and tendons as the blade moves over the throat, flaying the pale neck. That first hot spurt of blood spilling over gloved fingers before dripping into a dark puddle. The muted thud of a body hitting the moist Earth. Silence and the pungent stench of copper. A fresh kill. The first of many. Move quickly. Step over the discarded carcasses. Don’t consider the empty, accusing eyes. There were no innocents. Their blood stained your blade, not your soul. It was routine, one that he knew more intimately than any man or woman. It was the life he’d chosen-an Anbu. It was a dance he knew well now.
Kakashi landed softly on the slick branch and surveyed the smoldering remains of the complex they’d just infiltrated. Plumes of smoke curled into the night, wood crackling under the heat. The shadows flickered and two figures clad in black dropped beside him. They stood in silence, hands lazily curled around their blades. The tallest of the three flicked their wrist, and with a whispered word the sky opened overhead. A thin sheet of cold rain pelted the blood-soaked ground, dousing the evidence of the wicked flames. Another flick and mumble, by the other shinobi this time, and the Earth rumbled and reluctantly turned in on itself. There were no ashes, nor walls to ever indicate what had stood there.
“Hound.” Kakashi inclined his head at the silent order and dropped from the low branch to the ground. The earth was soft and new beneath his feet. The dirt was damp and gave easily as he kicked and walked over what was now nothing more than a grave. He could still smell their blood, fear, and urine, but there wasn’t even the faintest tick of a heartbeat. A small mercy. In days, no one would even know that an envoy of traders had camped there.
Their mission had been fairly simple in theory: eliminate the ninja from Kirigakure. They hadn’t expected the ninja to travel to Lightning Country, nor did they expect them to meet with other shinobi and merchants of unknown origin. They’d watched them exchange information, and then continued to watch stoically as their target brutally massacred the other group. They easily could have stopped the slaughter, but it left less enemies for them to deal with. After that, it was easy to finish them off. Then of course, because his life just had to be difficult, he found the damned seal scroll that no one, especially shinobi from Kirigakure, should have. Few in Konoha were privy to the secrets in it, and Kakashi was determined to keep it that way. He kept his promises.
Kakashi tucked his sword into its sheath, exhaling softly. Almost done, he thought, eyes tracing over the grave one last time before turning back to the trees. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled. He did his best to ignore the sharp tang of copper on his tongue. The branches rustled and seconds later his team dropped around him. He quickly assessed them, noting their injuries. Both were covered in mud, dirt, and blood, as expected given the fight they’d just endured. He noticed that Tenzou appeared to be favoring his right arm, and Itachi’s mask was slightly cracked in one corner. He could feel their exhaustion as potently as his own, as long missions tended to be physically taxing, but neither seemed chakra depleted. With luck, they could make it back to Konoha, but he didn’t put much hope in it. They were Anbu from a rival nation deep in Lightning Country. He would be thoroughly surprised if shinobi from Kumogakure didn’t attack them on their way home. In short, getting home was going to be Hell.
Sighing, Kakashi bit sharply into his thumb and slammed his hand into the ground. A little plume of smoke momentarily blinded him, and seconds later he was staring down at a small dog. The pug gave him a cursory once over, its nose wrinkled in distaste. It was one of the more expressive faces the little dog made, his countenance normally bored and surly. Kakashi’s fingers twitched to scratch behind the dog’s ears, knowing it’d only irritate him further. If they had the time he probably would.
“I have a mission for you,” Kakashi said in lieu of a greeting. Pleasantries were wasteful and bothersome, and Pakkun wasn’t one to engage in it anyway.
Pakkun yawned, flashing two rows of sharp canine teeth. “What else is new?” he grunted grumpily. He scowled at the other two, eyes resting curiously on Tenzou hidden behind his cat mask. He trotted over to the man and sniffed him curiously, committing his scent to memory. “The usual?” he asked, pressing his nose against Tenzou’s calf.
The silver haired ninja nodded tersely. “Give us three days.” Three days would push his team to their chakra limits, but they couldn’t risk a longer journey.
Pakkun hummed and moved away from Tenzou. “You sure you’re gonna make it kid?” It was as close to concern as he was going to get from the little dog. Displays of affection was a rarity between them, reserved for the darkest of time when Kakashi was seriously injured or falling apart. He must look worse for wear if Pakkun was worried.
“If they could spare a medi-nin or two, that would be nice,” Kakashi answered simply, tucking his hands into his pocket.
Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Pakkun darted into the trees without another word. Kakashi waited until the little flicker of chakra disappeared before turning to his team. “Move out.”
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! He’s watching me again. Iruka straightened from his crouch, eyes scanning the trees carefully. The canopy overhead quivered under the wind’s onslaught, the branches and leaves whispering to one another. Every now and again a small squirrel would scurry from one branch to another, or a bird would settle onto a limb and chirp mournfully at the sky. Iruka frowned at the trees. There wasn’t a flash of silver, or quick pike in chakra. As usual, there was no sign of him. He wasn’t sure why he expected there to be. Everyone knew that Anbu specialized espionage.
Sighing heavily, Iruka turned away from the trees and pulled another kunai from his belt. “Don’t you ever get bored just sitting there?” Iruka whispered before hurling the weapon at a tree a few meters away. Thwack! “Why do you come here anyway? Don’t you have something better to do?” The brunette teen chanced a look over his shoulder, not that he expected the Anbu to show himself.
“I guess it’s just weird you know?” he continued, scratching at the scar over his nose. “I’ve only seen you once before, and yet you’re always hanging around as if you expect me to get into trouble or something.”
His first encounter with the mysterious Anbu hadn’t been long after he had moved in with the Third Hokage and his family, almost six months since his parents’ death. He’d be lying if he said he was coping with the loss, especially when he spent most of his time talking himself off the ledge. He’d often sneak out under the cover of darkness and spend the cold nights leaning against the smooth surface of the memorial stone before returning in the morning. Sometimes he’d fall asleep there and wake covered in a soft blanket with leaves sticking out of his brown hair. The Third had never mentioned his behavior, and Iruka opted not to talk about it. One night however, the same night he’d met the mysterious Anbu, Hiruzen had suddenly (and seemingly without reason) forbidden him from going out. He hadn’t listened, and by the time the moon had risen completely in the sky, Iruka found himself kneeling in front of the memorial stone whispering to his parents. He hadn’t known the Anbu was there until the shinobi had dropped beside him in the grass and grabbed his shoulder tightly. He’d been too petrified to scream or fight back when the ninja had pulled him roughly to his feet and dragged him back to his room. Iruka had climbed shakily into bed that night, the Anbu a heavy presence just outside his window. He would later learn that delegates from Kirigakure were coming, and one had an insatiable bloodlust. The next morning Hiruzen had scolded him for his foolish behavior, and he’d been remanded to his room.
That had been almost a year ago, and to this day the Anbu always seemed to be following him. Iruka still wasn’t sure why the mysterious ninja spent his days watching him, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t unnerving. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the concern, just that it’s weird and unnecessary,” Iruka shrugged, throwing another kunai at the hole riddled tree. It neatly sunk into the bark with a loud thud. He would have been content with that if the damned thing wasn’t off center.
Sighing heavily, he walked over to the little tree and snatched the kunai from the bark. “I may not be the strongest shinobi, but I can take care of myself.” That’s right, you’ll be taking the Chunin exam in a few weeks. Iruka paused and ran his index finger thoughtfully over one of the sharp blades. “Hokage-sama says that I’m ready to be a Chunin, that I’ve been ready. He says my parents would be proud of me.”
Chocolate brown eyes swiveled over the trees, settling where he thought his Anbu would be. “What do you think Anbu-san?” he whispered. As usual, he was answered with silence. He probably thinks you’re a raving lunatic, talking to thin air, Iruka huffed. He tucked his weapons into his pouch and stretched his arms above his head. Besides, even if he answered, what would you want him to say? “Anything if that meant he’d fucking talk to me,” he grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
The disgruntled teen kicked at loose stone before stomping down the familiar path to the village. The trees swayed above him, the leaves falling gently in his path. He continued to kick at the rock, hands buried in his pockets, and his pout firmly in place. “I know Anbu have to keep their identity a secret, so if you’re afraid that I’ll-”
Iruka was cut off abruptly by a hand slapping over his mouth and a long arm pulling him back against a firm chest. Next second his feet left the ground and he found himself being manhandled onto a branch almost eighty meters high. Panic seized his chest and his breath stilled in his lungs when the warmth at his back was replaced with rough bark. His heart hammered painfully against his ribs when the ninja stepped completely in his line of sight. He gasped behind the gloved hand pressed firmly against his mouth, his eyes taking in the intricately painted mask and hypnotic mismatched eyes. Holy shit, the teen thought fearfully before his mind placed the strange porcelain mask and shock of silver hair. My Anbu.
The recognition must have shown in his eyes, for the masked man nodded tersely before glancing around them. “You need to suppress your chakra. Can you do that?” the Anbu demanded.
Iruka nodded shakily, sweat pooling on his brow. The red and gray eyes stared at him expectantly, their intensity unnerving. His pulse continued to jump erratically, causing his chakra to flare sharply in response to the threat. The Anbu narrowed his eyes and stepped into Iruka’s space until they were practically chest to chest. “Suppress it now if you want to live.” His voice was low and steely, and it sent a shiver up Iruka’s spine.
Swallowing thickly, Iruka closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His body still trembled, but this was more due to the warmth currently pouring from the powerful ninja before him than to fear. Focus Iruka! He chided himself, inhaling deeply again. He took a few more deep breaths, and his chakra gradually began to settle. The Anbu continued to study him carefully, and once satisfied that Iruka wouldn’t give away their position, he dropped his hand from Iruka’s mouth and reached into a pocket on his vest. He pulled out a scroll, no bigger than a pinky finger and pressed it gently into Iruka’s hand.
“Get this to the Third immediately. Don’t stop for any reason, do you understand?” he murmured softly.
Iruka was slightly taken aback by the request. Surely the Anbu wasn’t seriously going to take on the enemy on his own! From what he could tell, there were at least six to eight men scouring the surrounding forest for them, and only two of them seemed weak. There was no way that one boy, even if he was a trained Anbu, could fight half a dozen men and win, especially looking as dead on his feet as he did at that moment.
The silver haired ninja didn’t give him time to voice his opinion, however, before jumping to the ground below. Iruka watched slack jawed in horror as one of the enemy ninja came barreling out of the trees. The man was probably six feet tall, and he easily towered over the Anbu operative. The breath caught in Iruka’s lungs when the man lunged for his Anbu, kunai poised to stab into his neck. He blinked, and in the next second the man was lying on the ground writhing in agony as he bled out from a deep gash across his throat. His Anbu stood over the man, muscles taught and hand curled around a long, sinister katana. Dark crimson dripped from the wicked blade, and the ground drank it greedily, as if it couldn’t get enough.
Oh fuck! I’ve got to get out of here! Iruka thought, another spike of hot fear stabbing through him. His knees wobbled dangerously and nausea rolled through his stomach. He gripped the trunk of the tree to keep from plummeting to the ground, a small whimper falling from his lips unbidden. The Anbu tensed and his attention snapped to Iruka’s hiding place. The fury in his mismatched eyes was unmistakable, and yet the brunette teen couldn’t bring himself to move from the spot. He was petrified.
“Kimito?!” a strangled voice yelled. A second later its owner, a burly man, came crashing through the trees with a group of his comrades. For a second no one moved or spoke. Four pairs of eyes were trained on the lifeless body of their teammate, while the other three pairs were locked onto the lone figure standing proudly above it.
“You bastard,” a sandy haired ninja snarled, “I’ll have your head!” He darted across the space before anyone could stop him, a black dagger clutched tightly in his fist. His eyes were wild, his nostrils flared, and his chakra was exploding out of him in crushing waves. Iruka was sure the man’s rage could be felt in Konoha, and hopefully it’d draw reinforcements. Until then, however, they were on their own.
He watched as his Anbu leapt to meet the man halfway, his blood-stained sword glinting in the sunlight. Clang! The weapons clashed together, their owners less than a hairsbreadth away from each other. The blonde roared in fury and aimed a kick at his opponent’s ribs. The silver haired shinobi jumped swiftly out of the way, but the move made him lose momentum and cost him a shallow cut across his bicep. That alone seemed to spur the other men into action. Iruka could only stare in horror as they all came at his Anbu at once, intent to kill.
“Look out!” Iruka screamed in warning when one of the men, (a red-haired ninja with a jagged scar running from his hairline to his chin), swung at him with a silver handled axe.
His Anbu ducked at the last minute and neatly stabbed his sword into the man’s thigh. Scarface howled in pain and anger, dropping to the ground. Iruka couldn’t take a moment to celebrate however, because now the enemy knew exactly where he was. “Oh shit!” he cursed dodging out of the way at the last moment when one of them threw a paper bomb at his hiding place.
You need to get the Hell out of here. You don’t stand a chance against these men! Iruka dropped to the ground and took off at a sprint before they could attack again. He heard them shout something at his retreating back before pursuing, but he didn’t catch what they said. It wasn’t like it mattered in any case. He assumed they were after the scroll currently jammed into his pocket, which meant that he and his Anbu were disposable. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill him, and he wasn’t going to give them that chance. He could try and fight, but he was certain any resistance would be futile. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that he, an amateur ninja fresh out of the academy with only four kunai and one paper bomb, could take them on and live. It was suicide, and worse, the scroll would fall into enemy hands. His best chance was outrunning them, but he couldn’t run forever.
Think Iruka, think! He bit back a startled yelp as a kunai whistled past and sliced through his cheek. He twisted around and flung one back at random, panic rising. It was only a matter of time before they would catch him, and then he’d be done for. The academy hadn’t prepared him for this, not even close. They’d learned basic fighting skills, but never how to encounter high class shinobi this intent on killing you. And damn it, if he was going to die, he’d do his family justice. The enemy would get the scroll over his dead body.
He jumped into the trees and immediately set an exploding tag. It’d buy him a little time at least. Moving quickly, he leapt back to the ground and dove into a thicket of bushes, ignoring the sharp sting of the thorns on his arms. He clawed into the dirt, creating a hole just deep enough to slip the scroll into. He heard the telltale bang of his trap, but didn’t waste time celebrating. He still needed to get to the village, or signal for help at least. He quickly packed the dirt in and placed a seal over it just in case. That was one thing he could say he was advanced at: seals and barriers. They could blow they Black Hills to dust, but they wouldn’t find that scroll, not without his help. Satisfied with his work, he crept from his hiding place and began sprinting to the village again, using what chakra he had left to send out flares. Surely someone would-
A weight suddenly slammed into Iruka’s back and sent him sprawling. A hand roughly twisted in his hair and slammed his face into the hard Earth. The rocks cut into his skin, and felt the blood begin to dribble down his forehead. He grunted and vainly tried to twist out from underneath the man pinning him to the ground. It became harder to breathe under the man’s crushing weight, and Iruka felt the beginning of panic settling over him. He couldn’t hold his breath forever, and the ninja’s above him were rifling through his pockets looking for a scroll that was long gone. Black spots danced in front of his eyes, and he knew time was running out. He had to do something, anything, to get out of this. He wracked his brain frantically for a trick or technique he’d been taught, and the only thing he could think of was a very stupid and dangerous move his father had taught him. Iruka squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to hold on to consciousness for a few more seconds, and just as he felt the man above him shift, he forced his chakra to explode from his body in a great push.
“What the Hell?!” the man shouted as he was flung backwards.
Iruka climbed shakily to his knees, body now almost completely drained of chakra and tried to crawl away from the disoriented men. Fuck that was stupid, Iruka gasped, vision blurring. He hadn’t anticipated the aftereffects of the technique, not at all. His limbs felt like lead, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to put up a resistance, not a second time. Unless someone intervened, he would die.
The realization of his impending death hit him like a ton of bricks, and it was only his pride that kept him from crying out when one of the thugs kicked him to the ground again. He rolled onto his back and glared defiantly into the men’s leering faces. There were only two of them-Scarface and a dark-skinned man covered in tattoos. If he had to guess, Iruka would say the latter had been the one to tackle him, given that he was built like a boulder. He realized too late that Boulder guy had said something to him, and next thing he knew a foot was driven into his side again. This time he couldn’t help but hiss and curl in on himself. One of his ribs was bruised, maybe even broken. Iruka glared tearfully at the men above him, wishing that he was strong enough to take them down himself.
“I’m only going to ask one more time kid,” the ninja spat, crouching down next to him. “Where is the scroll?”
“Go to Hell!” Iruka growled before spitting into his face. He smirked when the man recoiled in outrage, sputtering angrily. His satisfaction was short lived, however, when the man backhanded him sharply across the face. Thick copper pooled in his mouth, and he felt his cheek start to swell.
“You insolent little brat,” he snarled murderously, “I’m going to enjoy killing you.” He pulled a jagged blade from his belt and pressed it against Iruka’s throat threateningly. The cold metal dug harshly into the tender skin of his throat. Iruka hardly dared to breathe, lest he unwittingly cut himself.
“You are not authorized to kill a civilian!” the red-haired ninja snapped irritably. “Our mission was to get the scroll back, you idiot!”
Senjin gnashed his teeth at his partner angrily. “Why the Hell not Kokuro? He’s seen us, all of us. If we let him go now, we’ll have a squad chasing us within the hour. No,” he glared down at Iruka’s weakened body disdainfully, “we can’t let him live. No witnesses.”
Kokuro rolled his eyes at his companion and groaned. “And you think leaving behind a child’s body won’t have them searching for us? We’d be better off taking him with us and disposing of him elsewhere.” His coal black eyes assessed Iruka, as if trying to decide if it’s be worth it to keep him alive any longer. He seemed to come to a decision after a long minute, and addressed his partner again. “Let’s at least get him back to Hitoko. A hostage is better than nothing.”
The other man looked as if he wanted to argue more, but the sound of approaching footsteps silenced him. They froze, listening wide eyed at the ferocious snarls and sound of pounding feet filling the air. The two ninjas exchanged a quick, worried glance. “Hurry you fool! Restrain him and let’s get out of here!” Kokuro hissed, drawing his weapons.
Senjin huffed irritably and moved to wind chakra wire around Iruka’s wrists. Iruka squirmed in his grasp, twisting, and bucking to dislodge him. His heart banged relentlessly against his ribs and his breaths came in rapid pants. No, no, no! His mind screamed as his wrists were finally seized in a bruising grip. His head began to swim and his vision blurred with tears. This can’t be happening! Damn it all!
“Hold still you little shit!” Senjin commanded through gritted teeth. His nails were digging into Iruka’s skin, the wire cutting into the tender flesh of his wrists. Blood dripped down his forearm. The man pulled on the wire one last time before standing and throwing Iruka over his shoulder. “Let go of me! Let me go!” Iruka cried, struggling desperately in the man’s hold. He kicked wildly and scratched at the man’s back with his nails.
Senjin cursed and threw his partner a dirty look. “We aren’t going to get far with him screaming like that! Shut him up before I do!” he spat furiously.
The red-haired man rolled his eyes and stomped over to them. He gripped Iruka’s ponytail and jerked his head back sharply. “This might sting a bit,” he warned before jabbing a senbon into his neck.
Iruka gasped at the sharp sting. His vision began swimming dangerously and his limbs grew heavy. Fuck. Kokuro backed away from him then and pulled a kunai from his belt. “That should keep him quiet for a while. Let’s go.”
They ran for what felt like an eternity, but it couldn’t have been more than two days at most since they’d left Konoha. If he had to guess, they were nearing the Land of Lightning, but he couldn’t be certain. They’d been smart, and kept Iruka unconscious for most of the journey, waking him only to shove stale bread and water down his throat. The lush green trees giving way to dry, brittle, cracked ground was the only indication that they were nearing the border of Fire Country. After their last stop, they’d allowed him to walk on his own, but his hands were still bound and tied securely to the Senjin’s belt. Even if his hands were free, escape would be near impossible. While he’d managed to regain some of his strength, his chakra was still severely low despite having ample time to replenish itself. Iruka suspected that was due to whatever poison Kokuro had injected him with in the forest. At this point, his best chance of survival was a surprise attack, and the closer they got to their base, the slimmer those chances became.
Iruka’s heart quickened at the prospect of meeting their leader. Hitoko, he learned, was a rogue ninja from Iwagakure that was wanted for massacring a small farming village and stealing several precious artifacts. The man was merciless, killing men, women, and children alike to accomplish his goals, which at this point appeared to be nothing more than spreading mass hysteria. The scroll they were after undoubtedly held a jutsu of terrifying power. There was no telling what the crazed man might do to the Hidden Leaf if he got his hands on it. And at that moment Iruka, a Genin that hadn’t done more than chase cats and babysit bratty rich kids as missions, was the only one standing in the man’s way. How long would he last under Hitoko’s torture?
“Hey, move it you little brat!” Senjin barked over his shoulder, startling Iruka from his musings. He tugged on the rope, causing the boy to stumble and fall. Iruka grunted when his knees collided with the ground, wincing at the sharp sting racing up his legs. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, even as his skin tore open against the jagged rocks.
The burly man clicked his tongue and stomped over to him. “I said. Get. Up.” His hands balled into fists at his side. “I won’t ask again.”
Iruka glowered at the man, teeth set on edge. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to wrap his abused hands around his beefy throat and spit in his face before driving a kunai through his chest. He fisted a jagged rock until it dug into his palms, his arm shaking. If he moved quickly enough he could drive it into the bastard’s gut. His throat tightened at the prospect of killing another human being, but he quickly dismissed any trepidation. He was a shinobi. Survival was priority.
Senjin growled angrily and reached for him, at the end of his patience. Lashing out quickly, Iruka stabbed the sharp rock into the man’s stomach and twisted. Senjin howled in pain and swiftly kicked out, his foot slamming into Iruka’s ribs. He choked, breath catching in his lungs and fire flaring in his ribs. Kokuro, who had been scouting a few meters ahead, wheeled around at his partner’s shout. Cursing low under his breath, Iruka clumsily pushed to his feet and staggered away from the two men. If they decided to kill him, he wouldn’t make it easy.
“You little bastard!” Senjin howled behind him.
In hindsight, Iruka should have seen the blow coming, for there was no logical way he’d be able to outrun two fully trained shinobi, whether they were injured or not. The jutsu hit him square between the shoulder blades, a crushing blow that knocked the wind out of him. For a moment, he stood completely still, mouth open in a silent scream of agony as his body twisted and contorted grotesquely. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as the painful tremors brought his body to the ground. The cold earth offered some reprieve to the flames tearing him apart from the inside out. He struggled to draw in air, his lungs and throat constricting. Jesus, they were going to kill him!
And just as suddenly as the pain started, it stopped, and Iruka was left a quivering, half sobbing mess on the ground. He curled into the fetal position and greedily sucked in air. He looked at his arms through teary eyes, confused and horrified that the skin hadn’t been burnt away by the fire that had assaulted him moments before. Little spasms and tremors wracked his body, drawing agonized whimpers from his blood-stained lips. With great effort, he rolled onto his back and sobbed at the darkening sky above him.
He had little time to dwell on it before Kokuro and Senjin sauntered over, the former already holding a senbon between his fingers. Iruka choked back a sob and tried to scoot away to the safety of the trees, praying to every deity he could think of that someone, anyone, would save him.
Senjin’s face was beet red eyes furious and filled to the brim with hatred. He fisted Iruka’s collar and lifted the boy until he was dangling in the air. Iruka gasped and clawed at the man’s wrists, eyes bulging with panic. The man sneered hatefully and squeezed until the teen was struggling for air. “You’re going to pay for-”
He didn’t get the chance to finish the threat. It started as a low hum, barely audible above the sound of Iruka’s terrified gasps of air and Kokuro’s shouted warning. Seconds later, it had grown into a deafening cacophony of shrill chirps. The hair on Iruka’s neck and arms stood on end, and for a brief second the air stilled in his lungs. The air crackled menacingly, and a bright white light seemed to surround them. Senjin’s hand slackened around his throat and Iruka crumbled to the ground, the man’s terrified screams echoing through the trees. Dark crimson splattered the ground and his face, and next second Senjin’s body collapsed. The smell of burnt flesh assaulted Iruka’s nostrils making him gag, vomit rising in his throat. Horrified, Iruka watched as Kokuro charged the newest addition to the party, weapon raised to avenge his fallen comrade. It was over in a matter of seconds. Iruka squeezed his eyes shut and turned away until he heard the tell-tale thud of a body falling to the ground. And then silence, agonizing silence.
Iruka struggled to breathe and refused to open his eyes. His heart was valiantly trying to run out of his chest, hard enough so that his abused ribs screamed in protest. His head swam, and he knew he was moments away from passing out. Shit not again. Kami not again! Bile rose in his throat, and this time he couldn’t keep it down. He doubled over and wretched, the acid in the vomit making his eyes water, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. All he could smell was smoke and blood, just like the night that tore his family away from him.
“Iruka-kun.” A warm hand rested on the small of his back and the other gently grabbed his cheek. “Iruka-kun please answer me,” urged a familiar voice.
The brunette teen sucked in a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes. He was met with an intense, concerned stare, one eye blood red and the other steel gray. The intricately painted mask was stained with dried blood and riddled with small cracks. The shock of silver hair was matted with dirt, leaves, and other bodily fluids. His uniform was torn in several places, and Iruka could see faint traces of wounds on his arms, chest, and left side. Despite his own obvious injuries, Iruka couldn’t help but worry about the Anbu, who’d clearly not gotten any needed medical attention.
“You’re hurt,” Iruka managed after a while, his fingers settling on the gash on his side. The skin around it was unnaturally warm, a clear sign of infection. His eyebrows furrowed as he inspected him.
The Anbu tensed under his touch before relaxing slightly. “It’s artificial,” he replied while cataloguing Iruka’s wounds. His chakra flared dangerously for a moment when he saw the state of Iruka’s bound wrists. Now that he looked at them himself, he could see that the wire had cut nearly to the bone, the skin around it a sickly purple. He twitched his fingers experimentally and sucked in a pained breath. The Anbu clicked his tongue and quickly sawed through the wire and threw it to the side. “Bastards,” he mumbled, casting dark looks at the two dead men. “What else did they do to you?”
Iruka swallowed and looked away from those mismatched eyes. He studied his hands instead, flexing his fingers experimentally. “Nothing,” he lied thickly. Even as he said it, his back flared in pain and he unconsciously dug his nails into the Anbu’s arm.
“Do not lie to me,” the other teen bit out harshly. He grasped Iruka’s chin tightly between his fingers and forced him to meet his eyes again. His red eye swirled hypnotically in its socket as it bore into his chocolate brown ones. “What did they do to you?”
The teen closed his eyes and willed the tears not to escape. “The red-headed one cut me off from the chakra and the other one…” trailing off, he lifted his shirt to show the mirage of bruises on his tan skin. “I hid the scroll before they caught me. They were going to take me to someone named Hitoko and let him...” he trailed off and dropped his shirt back into place. “I wouldn’t tell them anything.”
The Anbu nodded and clutched Iruka closer to his firm chest and pressed their foreheads together. “I’m so sorry Iruka-kun.” His arms tightened around the smaller teen’s body, mindful of his injuries. “I should have gotten here faster.” He pulled away and gently pressed his fingers against his injured side.
Heat flooded Iruka’s side, the chakra already starting to heal his bruised ribs. He moaned in relief and gripped the Anbu’s shoulders. He blinked blearily at the older teen, who was watching him intently, and he felt his cheeks flush. “Th-thank you,” he stuttered.
The Anbu shifted closer, their faces merely inches apart, sending Iruka’s heart thumping. “Iruka-kun…” he muttered, “close your eyes.”
The boy hesitated at the weird request. “W-why?” he asked shakily.
The gray-haired teen chuckled. “Because as much as I want to do this, I still can’t break Anbu code,” he replied silkily.
Iruka swallowed and obeyed, squeezing his eyes impossibly tight. “All right, now w-”
The press of lips against his own silenced and startled him. Iruka flinched violently, and made to pull away. The Anbu held him still, however, and he was left to marvel at the feel of the other boy’s lips. They were warm and slightly chapped, yet softer than expected. The Anbu’s hands cupped his face, holding him in place while he devoured his mouth. Iruka gasped against him, at a complete loss of how to respond. The Anbu didn’t seem to care or notice. His tongue teased against Iruka’s bottom lip, asking for entrance, before plunging in. The kiss was impulsive, explosive, dominating, and it sent the poor Genin’s head spinning. He held onto his shoulders desperately, a small whimper slipping from his throat.
The Anbu pulled away suddenly, his hands dropping from Iruka’s shoulder. He waited a beat before opening his eyes and staring up at the silver-haired ninja. The other teen tensed, eyes trained on the trees behind them, and stepped away from Iruka. Before the brunette could question his actions, or even begin to piece them together, the trees rustled and four shinobi dropped around them. Iruka recognized them instantly as part of the Third Hokage’s personal guard- the strongest, most elite the village had to offer. They were clearly prepared for battle, each holding a kunai or katana in their hands. The leader, a young woman simply called Crow, stepped forward. She surveyed the scene critically before turning to the two boys.
Faster than Iruka could blink, Crow was toe to toe with his Anbu her blade pressed against his throat. Her chakra whipped around them, her murderous intent clear. Snail sidled up just behind her as back up. Eagle and Panther moved until they stood protectively in font of Iruka.
“Who are you,” she demanded, flickers of her chakra wrapping around the teen to feel him out. Iruka visibly flinched at the harsh tone, but his Anbu stood unwaveringly at attention.
The boy slowly lifted his left arm sleeve revealing a pitch clack spiral tattoo on his shoulder. “My code name is Hound, first division Anbu under supervision of the Third Hokage and leader of Team Ro.”
Sword still held threateningly against his neck, she reached out and traced a finger over the tattoo. She mumbled something too low for Iruka to hear, before pulling away, seemingly satisfied. Crow turned and nodded briefly at Eagle and Panther before stowing away her sword. “Report what has happened here,” Crow said, nodding to the two bodies behind them.
“While returning from a mission my team was ambushed by a group of rogue shinobi of various origins. I lead some of them into the Black Hills. I didn’t notice Umino-san until we were too close and they’d already picked up his chakra signature.” He paused and clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “I was too late to get him to safety however, and he was subsequently kidnapped. I was able to dispose of the other ninja before pursuing.” Hound said stiffly. He spoke calmly and confidently despite previously having a weapon against his neck. “My ninken able to pick up the trail within hours, but due to fatigue I was unable to catch up quickly.”
Crow hummed thoughtfully for a moment, blue eyes resting minutely on Iruka before returning to Inu. “Your ninken did not report that you were injured, nor the nature of your mission. Explain.”
Hound tensed slightly, but his chakra did not waver. “They were given instructions to ask Lord Hokage for back up, nothing more. Given the circumstances I felt it better to conserve my chakra.” He briefly glanced at Iruka before facing his superior again. “If I hadn’t Umino-san may have been killed.”
The woman nodded and tapped her thigh. “I assume this band of shinobi were after something pertaining to your mission. Is it safe?” her voice was still cold, businesslike, but it had lost some of its edge. She still eyed Hound wearily, but it didn’t appear that she thought him a threat.
Inu inclined his head to Iruka then. “Umino-san hid the scroll while I engaged the enemy. I believe they planned to torture him to find its whereabouts.”
Crow nodded and faced Iruka for the first time. When she spoke, her voice was soft and gentle, as if dealing with a small child or unstable animal. “Umino-san do you remember where you hid the item?”
Iruka hesitated before answering, brown eyes flickering to Hound. He’d learned at the academy that it wasn’t safe to discuss certain mission details in the field, especially with shinobi not already privy to the mission itself. Hound’s mismatched eyes met his uncertain gaze, and the older teen nodded quickly.
Turning back to Crow, who’d watched the exchange with intrigue, he nodded. “I hid it in the Black Hills just before they caught me. It’s surrounded by a trap seal my father taught me,” he looked down at his lap before continuing, “I knew I couldn’t outrun them, and figured it was better to hide it before I was captured.”
The woman appraised him, impressed. “Very well,” Crow replied, turning to the rest of her team. “Panther, Eagle, you are to escort Umino-san directly to the infirmary. Snail, you, and I shall help Hound dispose of these bodies before we return to Konoha. We can retrieve the item after he’s recovered.”
Iruka blanched when the other Anbu approached him. “No!” he shouted suddenly, a lump in his throat. The shinobi paused uncertainly, eyeing him as one would a wild animal. Only Hound and Crow remained composed, although Iruka could have sworn he felt the former’s chakra waver slightly. Iruka swallowed, eyes darting around at all of them. “Can’t Hound-san take me home?” he pleaded. He licked his lips and looked around at the shinobi towering over him. “I trust him, and he saved my life.”
Crow seemed to consider him for a long moment before deciding. “Fine, but you will both be accompanied by Eagle-san. Hound, if you can spare the chakra, send your fastest ninken to the village and alert them of your return. Eagle will take point. You are forbidden from engaging enemy shinobi am I understood?”
They nodded swiftly and the woman turned her attention to the bloodied bodies. “Honestly Hound, you could have done a much cleaner job! Are you trying to start a war?” she gestured to the mangled corpse of Senjin, and Iruka shuddered at the memory of his death. Looking at him now, it looked as if someone had ripped him open.
Hound crossed over and effortlessly scooped Iruka into his arms. He held the brunette tightly against his chest, almost possessively. “I did what was necessary,” he said coldly before leaping into the trees. Crow’s frustrated growl followed them, but he didn’t seem to care. If anything, he seemed intent on putting as much distance between them and Crow as possible. Iruka held onto his shoulders tightly and buried his face in Hound’s neck. He could feel the tears of relief coming on, and he bit his lip to hold them back.
“You’re safe now, Iruka-kun,” Hound whispered soothingly against his ear. “It’s okay.”
The brunette shuddered and pulled back slightly to look him in the face. It was quite difficult, given the broken mask the other teen wore, but he could feel the tension rolling from him in waves. “I’m sorry Hound-san. I should have-”
“Call me Inu,” the gray-haired teen interrupted. “Hound is a soldier, designed to kill from the shadows. To you I’m Inu, just another shinobi.” He dodged a low hanging branch. “And don’t apologize. The important thing is that you’re safe.” His grip tightened on Iruka for a moment, as if to reassure himself that his words were true. “You’re safe. With me,” he repeated softly.
A lump rose in Iruka’s throat, blocking the words he desperately wanted to say, the questions he wanted to ask. Being this close to Inu, having the older teen hold him as if he were fragile and precious, was overwhelming and he couldn’t muster the energy to critically assess it. The adrenaline had faded, replaced by exhaustion. His lids grew heavy and his vision swam. He could feel his body growing limp in Inu’s arms despite his best effort to stay awake. “Always,” he managed to whisper, eyes finally falling closed.
Two Months Later
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Iruka paused and lifted his blindfold to admire his handiwork, panting slightly. He’d been at it for over an hour, trying to hit his target using the shuriken-jutsu using nothing more than instinct and chakra sensing. Asuma, ever the helpful one, had pointed out that at his age he should be mastering more advanced techniques. So far, he excelled in barrier and sealing jutsu, but he’d picked up a few advanced ninjutsu techniques. This however, was taxing and frustrating.
“Damn it all,” he cursed, stomping over to find his discarded kunai. Only three of seven had managed to hit the stupid tree. Two had flown into the bushes, one possibly killed a small bird, and the other was sticking up innocently from the ground only half an inch away from the tree. Yes, he was abysmal at it, and to top it all off, Inu was watching.
Iruka turned and scowled at the Anbu, cheeks growing hot in embarrassment. Inu, to his credit, was lying on a branch pretending to flip through some god-awful book he refused to let Iruka touch. (Something about spoiling his innocence.) The brunet wasn’t stupid, however. He knew the Anbu was laughing at him behind his mask.
“You know,” he snapped, jerking a kunai from the tree with more force than necessary, “you could offer some advice instead of laughing at me.” He threw the weapon at the other ninja, who caught it without looking up from the page he was currently reading. Show off.
Inu looked down at him innocently. “Well why didn’t you ask ‘little dolphin’?”
Iruka’s face flushed crimson. “I TOLD YOU. DON’T CALL. ME. THAT!” he bellowed. He punctuated his words by hurling his newly recovered kunai at the chortling ninja, who vanished before the first one even hit the branch he’d been lounging on. “Lousy, show off, worthless…” he trailed off, fuming.
‘Little dolphin’ had become one of Inu’s more annoying nicknames for him as of late. It’d started when Iruka had been recovering in the hospital more than two months ago, when the Anbu had started leaving horrid drawings of dolphins at his bedside table. (He’d never caught him at it, but Iruka wasn’t stupid. He knew it had to be him.) The light teasing hadn’t stopped there. Anytime the two were alone, which was often, he’d relentlessly tease Iruka until the teen was ready to kill him, and then disappear. It was infuriating, and there wasn’t anything he could do short of murder to stop him.
“You really should work on your temper if you want to be a good shinobi, Iruka-kun,” Inu purred in his ear, appearing behind him suddenly. He grasped Iruka’s wrists and pinned them behind his back, trapping his arms between them. Inu leaned in until his masked mouth was just beside his ear. “After all, you don’t want your opponent to get the best of you.”
Iruka smirked and twisted in his grasp, freeing one of his arms and jabbing it into Inu’s ribs. The Anbu coughed and rubbed at his side, eyes narrowing behind his mask. “And you shouldn’t let your guard down,” he replied triumphantly, beaming from ear to ear.
Inu growled softly before tackling him to the ground. He straddled Iruka’s slim hips and pinned his wrists down on either side of his head. The brunette bucked his hips to dislodge him, twisting under the weight of his body. Inu smiled behind his mask at the younger boy’s half-hearted struggles. They were cute.
“Stop struggling Iruka-chan,” he purred. Iruka glared up at him, face flushed a pretty crimson. Warmth pooled in his stomach at that, and Kakashi was grateful that his mask hid his face. “Close your eyes,” he ordered.
Iruka rolled his eyes dramatically, but obeyed without argument. “You’re a terrible person Inu-san,” he grumbled, flexing his hands in the teen’s steely grasp.
“You say that, but I know you secretly love me,” Kakashi teased. “It’s alright Iruka-chan. I’m quite fond of you as well.”
The brunette huffed irritably, more color flooding his cheeks. “Damn it, Inu would you just kiss me already?!” he demanded crossly.
Kakashi chuckled, lifting his mask. “As you wish.”