Chapter Text
First day of school is always exciting.
The prospect of meeting new people and making friends doesn't fail to make Iruka tremble in anticipation, even more if one considers that he would be meeting a whole new classroom in a matter of days.
But today he won't be meeting his future kids.
Today he will be meeting his coworkers. Alone.
"Nooo… I don't wanna be alone today!"
Naruto was still tucked in bed, with Iruka bent over him and peppering kisses over his little face.
"You won't be, sweetheart." A gentle kiss on his forehead. "We've talked about this, remember? I'm going to work at our school, and I need to go alone for a couple of days to leave everything ready for when we can go together."
Iruka raised his brows, waiting for him to agree.
Naruto groaned sleepily, not convinced yet.
Iruka tried again. "Plus, maybe I'll get to meet your new teacher…"
Naruto gasped and propped himself at an insane speed, almost bumping his head into Iruka's nose. Iruka dodged him in time, wincing at the prevented scenario.
"You'll meet my new teacher?" He looked at Iruka like he had just promised him the moon.
"I'll try to!" Iruka gently caressed his cheek, lulling him back to his former position. "I can't promise I'll do it today because I'll be very busy," Naruto nodded, comprehending, "but I'm sure we'll bump into each other sooner or later."
After a couple minutes of a silence only molded by Naruto's breathing, he added in a whisper: "I don't want to be alone…"
Iruka kissed his head one last time.
"You won't, my little bee. I'll be back before you even realize I'm gone. I'll be here by lunch, like we talked."
Naruto hummed something else, already drifting to sleep, and the tension on his body finally eased away. He had fallen asleep.
***
Naruto would be okay. Their neighbor would be taking care of him for the whole morning, until lunch time arrives, as they promised. Iruka was already missing their morning routine — even so, he had learned that receiving help from time to time was incredibly relieving, much to his dismay. Even if he couldn't afford a professional babysitter yet, Naruto luckily got along very well with the young girl next door.
Naruto would be okay.
But Iruka? He had no one to take care of him.
Not anymore, at least. He wasn't sure if there was someone on the first place, but those thoughts were meant for other places. Right now, he had a mission to complete.
Iruka had been secretly holding high expectations about this new piece of his jumbled but overall better life. It would be Naruto's school, too. Iruka had tried to brush the nervousness off his child — but the task happened to be unsuccessful, as Iruka himself wasn't any better at hiding his troubled feelings.
The problem is, Iruka thought, that he was still trying to hide how he felt to Naruto. He was afraid of scaring him off too. How would he raise a child if he never did as he prayed? The insistent voice in his head had been shrinking and fading over the past months, but he could still feel some of their ill-whishes hovering behind his head. They were always out of his vision field, but close enough to send shivers down his spine.
Lost as he was on his thoughts, Iruka realized he had almost arrived to the school. He felt a strange mix of fear and excitement.
His knotted stomach only tightened when he shortened the distance between him and the entrance.
Iruka had heard ill rumors about this particular school and its teachers back at his former workplace. That's why he decided it could be a good starting point. As good as any other, he said to himself, but secretly he only wanted to go as far as he could from Mizuki and his oppressing orbit — and that meant contradicting everything he believed.
He would take care about the rumors later. If necessary.
Right now, he was starting over.
And he wasn't doing it only for him.
Iruka had been staring at the metal door for a while. Black iron bars were covered with vines, a color palette that contrasted beautifully with the faded terracotta from the low brick wall that bordered the school area, crowned with a black iron fence as well.
Behind the fenced perimeter, the school itself rose from behind the thickness of a couple oak trees. Their leaves were still green — it wasn't that cold yet — but Iruka could see in the dulled green the approaching autumn.
If Iruka was told that the building used to be a mansion, he would believe it wholeheartedly. Completely made of stone, three floors and an attic made its way past the withered foliage. Big and luminous windows adorned each level. Most of them had their blinds shut. Vines were also trying to conquer the building's corners. Iruka was too far away to make any more details, but the stillness of the entrance door caught his attention. Following the dirt pathway, his eyes were naturally drawn to that precise point, an invisible current of energy tugging at his heart.
The morning breeze settled the image down on his memory.
He felt his stomach flipping. Visions of a better future tingled his insides. Was that hope?
Then, Iruka remembered why was he here in the first place. He swallowed down a lump and gripped the iron bars, the coldness of them doing wonders to clear his mind.
He had set his life for a new beginning. He moved from the other side of the city, brought Naruto with him, and found a place comfortable enough for them. Naruto was too little to understand the nuances of the situation, but he understood enough to feel this change as an exciting journey, the opposite of his life before.
Naruto was ready. Iruka needed to be ready, too.
They have talked at length about this first day. Naruto's current favorite show featured a couple of ninja-superheroes, so he came up with the idea that Iruka could approach this situation as if it was a field mission and he was a newly recruited ninja. Well, actually, Naruto didn't word it out like that. He expressed his concern when he discovered that schools open even before classes start — during a breakfast conversation, Iruka found out his frowned brows were very cute — and then he resolved that Iruka should investigate it thoroughly, like his favorite hero would do.
Iruka could be his hero for a day.
A morning, even. Then, he will report everything to Naruto and they would watch his favorite chapters again, savoring every moment like it'd be the last.
It was a solid plan.
Get it together, man.
Iruka pushed the entrance gates with a renewed will.
It didn't move.
Is it rusty?
Iruka tried again, frantically shaking the door out of its frame.
It didn't move an inch, either.
He stopped, realizing the absurdity of the situation, his face obscuring with a scowl. It couldn't be a matter of strength, nor disposition; the bolt was obviously open. Someone should be inside already, probably enjoying the silence before everyone arrives.
A silence he had just broken, he realized.
His face flooded with heat, red blossoming from behind his scar, attempting to creep down his neck. But Iruka was a seasoned man, and he was able to calm down his nerves successfully.
It was a minor inconvenience. That had never stopped him from having a good day. Not that he had many good days over the past couple years, though. But he kept trying, nonetheless.
Iruka crouched down. He was determined to discover the cause of this accidental exclusion. He wouldn't let first hand embarrassment win the game. And no, he won't be screaming for help if he didn't have a crushing certainty that someone would listen to him and actually come to him in a matter of seconds.
But maybe second hand embarrassment would get him. He couldn't know that at that moment. But I do.
From the corner of his eye, Iruka saw a shape standing still from across the street. It seemed as if the figure had just turner around the corner.
Iruka dared to turn around a quarter and face the figure.
It was a man's. And, by judging his posture, he was pretty tired of being there doing nothing at all. He must had been watching him absolutely shaking the already unlocked entrance door.
Iruka was a seasoned man, but he wasn't immortal. In a swift burst, his head reddened from the collarbones to the ears.
Shit.
The man stepped forward, never abandoning his slouched demeanor. One step. Two. Three. His steps echoing the over the sidewalk beeped like a nautical radar inside Iruka's mind, signaling danger every time they touched ground.
A muffled voice shook him out of his thoughts.
"Yo. Can I help you?"
The man had leaned over Iruka, strands of silver hair falling forward. He was wearing a muted green scarf around his neck, part of which covered his face.
His eyes were curious and kind.
Iruka thought that his blood was dangerously reaching the boiling point. And that he should respond. Like right now.
"I- uh…" Iruka blinked twice, trying to produce a coherent sentence. "The door is closed. I mean- it's open but it won't open and…"
The man seemed to smile — or, at least, that is what Iruka saw in his eyes — and gracefully grabbed one of the two horizontal bars holding the entrance gate together.
"It's old, but works just fine. I have a trick or two under my sleeve."
Then, he lifted one of the doors just enough for it to open swiftly. It didn't even make a sound.
"Is it bold of me to assume that you are the new teacher?" He lifted a brow.
Iruka had gathered a vast amount of quick predeterminate answers throughout the years but, this morning, he was left with nothing but an agape mouth.
Again, he remembered that he was participating in a conversation, and that he should engage somehow. He remembered he was still crouched on the floor, too.
Iruka rose to his feet so fast his vision obscured momentarily, his blood still making its way up through his body, even though most of it was allocated at his face. He almost bumped into Kakashi. A morning memory instantly flashed through his mind.
"Yes! I mean- I'm the new teacher. Umino Iruka." Then, with a steadier voice that latter would trail off, he added: "Thanks for helping me, uh…"
"Kakashi. Hatake Kakashi. A pleasure."
Kakashi bowed his head lightly, and Iruka mirrored him — overdoing it a bit too much. He could have sworn Kakashi chuckled quietly because of it, but it was hard to tell given how covered his mouth was.
"Then, sensei, let's get you inside."
***
The compound was bigger than Iruka could have seen from the exterior view. Oaks bordered the main pathway, yes, but a much wider variety of trees surrounded the enclosure: yellowish poplars and green beeches were scattered over the terrain, with an anecdotic weeping willow or two between them. He almost saw a Tsuga tree peeking from behind the building, but the perspective prevented him from seeing more as they got closer to the school.
"Like what you see, sensei?"
His eyes crinkled again.
Walking along with this new person was… unnerving. Iruka could feel the man eyeing him from time to time, but sometimes he straight stared at him. He also fidgeted inside the pockets of his jacket, and emitted an aura of nervousness that didn't quite match his words, nor his apparent relaxed posture. Iruka couldn't understand why acted that way.
"Oh! Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. This place is… enormous. How many people do the gardening?"
Iruka tried to avert the obvious flirtation and redirect the conversation to a topic they could actually talk about. He didn't give it much thought — he picked the first thing in front of his eyes, which was the garden.
"Ah- just one person. A friend of mine, actually. You'll meet him eventually."
Kakashi seemed out of his element for a moment, but he rapidly threw a deadpanned tone with which he seemed to end the conversation.
Probably, Iruka had asked something stupid. He shouldn't have said anything at all. Maybe it wasn't that bad… they would forget about it anyways.
Kakashi guided him silently to the front door. Iruka was so self-absorbed that he missed one of the steps and almost tripped over his feet. Luckily, Kakashi stabilized him soon enough with a strong, precise grip on his bicep.
Feeling the pressure, Iruka almost went to black.
"Oi sensei, watch your step."
That cheerful tone was back, along with Iruka's fierce blush. Could he stop embarrassing himself in front of someone else for even, let's say, a morning?
"T-thanks," he muttered in response.
Kakashi still held onto his arm when he added, as graceful as a headless chicken:
"I don't judge books by their covers, sensei."
He put the cherry on top with a wink.
Certainly, second hand embarrassment will kill Iruka today.
How could a man he had just met behave that way? Was he trying to mock him? Was he so easy to make fun of? His words and behavior spoke two completely different languages, needless to say each one had his own variety of dialects. Iruka didn't get him, plainly.
But he'll need to eventually, wouldn't he? This day couldn't be weirder.
"Look what the tide had brought in!"
The voice reached Iruka's ears, but he didn't register who did it belong to soon enough. Both Iruka and Kakashi turned back, identical expressions of surprise on their faces, but each one due to a rather distinct reasoning.
"Iruka."
The woman in front of him looked exactly the same as the last day they saw each other, thinking there wouldn't be a next. If Iruka was honest with himself, he wouldn't say that the woman hasn't changed at all; in fact, she looked happy. Happier.
Eagerness wasn't an emotion Iruka believed that woman could feel so frankly.
Kakashi's eyes darted erratically between the woman's baffled expression and Iruka's terrified face.
Finally, after a few seconds that felt like hours, someone whispered:
"Anko?"
The voice seemed too distant to be his own.
Had Iruka finally recited a name so painfully avoided over the last few years? Or was Kakashi trying to understand how the hell had just everything gone so… uncomfortable?
"Iruka!"
Anko propelled herself towards Iruka, arms already in the air to grab him with all her might. She hugged him fiercely, face buried on his neck, hands gripping clothes and hair alike.
"Anko?"
He couldn't believe his eyes. Only when he saw Kakashi's widened eyes, he realized he hadn't hugged his old friend back. Could they still be called friends?
"Anko?" Iruka repeated a second time — or was it a third? — as he tugged her as close as he could, given there wasn't any space at all between them, tears threatening to fall from their growing pools. She hugged him even tighter before finally releasing him. She had spilled a couple tears, too, though she wouldn't call that crying. Iruka wouldn't, either.
"I never thought I'd see you here, out of all places."
Iruka was still too shocked to articulate a coherent response, so he let her lead the encounter. Anko had recomposed herself as fast as she had landed between Iruka's arms. She inhaled and exhaled, closing her eyes, a process meant for ordering thoughts.
"Alright! Time to start our days." She clapped her hands. "Oh hi, never thought you'd be early for once."
Kakashi frowned.
Anko drew a sonorous handful of keys from her pockets and opened the front door. She guided them inside.
The sight was… regular. Average, even. Simple. The original building layer had been rearranged to accommodate the school dependencies, which resulted in a couple imperfections — corners that weren't bent at 90 degrees, walls that weren't perfectly straight, light-bulbs and fluorescent lights scattered unequally — all of which conferred a kind and welcoming vibe. The floors were made of long, dark oak beams; the walls were plastered in various shades of white and yellow.
It wasn't made with love. It wasn't even made following the most basic standard norms. But it looked so worn and inhabited and so fucking real that Iruka felt excited to teach for the first time in what could have been easily years.
"Pretty cool, huh? You'll get used to the lack of functional lights, I'm sure."
That sentence should have been kind, but Anko's eager attitude had been replaced with something sourer. Iruka felt the first waves of tension forming around them. Iruka expected this. He peeked at his side to see Kakashi's reaction, but he had already flown away. Smart guy.
"We should talk, now that we're alone."
"Yes," Iruka conceded, not unkind.
Anko guided him to a small rest room. He was vaguely aware of the total amount of teachers working here, and that room seemed too small for everyone to fit in comfortably. Again, that was a problem for Future Iruka. Right now he had something much severe between his hands.
Kakashi was already inside. He didn't look at them when they entered the room, nor when Anko gestured Iruka to the farthest seat across from the entrance door. Kakashi gave them his back and limited himself to a worn out pocket book and a chipped mug filled with coffee to the brim. Iruka noticed he wasn't wearing his jacket anymore. Instead, a loose but fitting knitted sweater hang from his shoulder blades, the sharp light only highlighting the angles.
Iruka forced his gaze away.
Anko sat at his side, eyes casting a severe look.
She had always been the laid back type. Hardly got into fights, but rarely spoke her mind so loud someone should actually listen to her. Anko learned that she needed something else — a little extra help, one could say — to blow some courage into her cowed heart.
Even if she spoke bitterly and ended up wording her thoughts rather painfully, she was always right. And that's why Iruka loved her so much, and why they had hated each other to that extent in the end. Iruka could only hope for forgiveness.
"How were things going back in your school?"
Bitter words were spoken by Anko, though she was making a palpable effort for smoothing out the edges. Technically, it had been theirs, but Iruka didn't want to argue right now. He felt he wasn't entitled to, too.
Even so, Kakashi didn't pay much attention to them. Instead of turning around and joining the conversation, he resolved that rummaging inside the small kitchen cabinets was far more interesting.
Iruka cleared his throat as quietly as he was able to.
"Not so…" thoughtfully, he tried again: "Not so well, one could say."
Anko didn't seem satisfied. He hadn't said much but, if she wanted him to open himself all of a sudden, he would need more than an almost-clean mug half filled with tempered black coffee and a plastic chair.
Anko lowered her eyes and took a sip of her as well chipped mug. Iruka felt as if he were in the middle of a dried sunflower field, and someone were dangling a lighted up match in front of him.
"Why are you here?"
Her voice was quiet now. Iruka saw the scintillating flame tremble just the slightest of bits.
Kakashi kept himself collected at the other side of the room. Now he was facing them, hips leaning against the counter and the small book held with his left hand. He seemed completely unbothered by the tense situation unfolding before his unseeing eyes.
Iruka wrapped his hands around the mug, trying to find a tether in his holding. He wanted to put and end to this conversation as soon as he was able to. The only way out was going through, and going through meant a concise but honest truth.
"I got fired."
The flame finally extinguished. It had consumed itself — only a blackened match was left between the fingers of the menacing figure.
Kakashi hummed noncommittally. He seemed submerged in his lecture. It must be fascinating, like his acting abilities. Why did he looked so serious now?
Anko relaxed her squared shoulders.
"That's… fine, actually. It was about time, though."
She gave him a half hearted smile. Then, she put her palms over the table, and inhaled a deep breath.
When she spoke again, the eagerness was back.
"We gotta hurry! There are lots of stuff to do!"
Iruka saw the ominous figure disappearing. It was gone. And maybe, he hoped, for a long time. He couldn't bring himself to think about getting back his best friend yet but, at least, they'd be in good terms. That was enough. In fact, it was ages from what he had expected to confront today. How small did his first inconvenience in the morning looked now.
Kakashi finally showed the first signs of cognition. He rolled his eyes dramatically and left the room — not without a loud clang when his mug fell down ungraciously in the sink.
***
Iruka became rapidly aware of the reasons that explained Kakashi's evasive behavior. If more teachers showed up throughout the morning, he saw almost none — surely, they were coiled in their classes as well, hiding from Anko's decided nature.
Iruka loved schedules. Lists. Notes. Charts, even. Anything that helped him organize the indomitable chaos of household chores and school programming. He also loved his friend's renewed determination.
But Iruka didn't like all those things together and mixed up with a whole school cleaning madness. Even so, he did the only thing he could do at this point, a thing he was desperately instilling in Naruto: Iruka tried his best.
Three floors pilled up like levels to defeat. The school was distributed between two wide wings: one for the kids and the other for the teenagers. There were common areas for each wing, as well as some — initially — private rooms for teachers and staff members alike. Anko showed him that these spaces had been metamorphosing over time, and that they needed an urgent rearrangement: the school was growing.
The first floor was completely packed, and the second had a severe case of missed potential. The third floor was almost empty. For each year there was a classroom. Nonetheless, with the increasing number of students, the school was in need of more free spaces for them. If the rhythm kept increasing, they would even have to shift to a double line in a couple years.
Their first mission for the morning was pretty simple, actually: open every window and let the air flow, hopefully carrying out months of dust and germs. However, they had to confront a couple small bosses: finding the right key between the right set of keys (the total sum was ridiculous to Iruka), trying to make the hinges work and, finally, dragging themselves to the windows in question through years of accumulated junk.
They didn't go to every room in the school. Half of them were already assigned, a responsibility meant for their respective teachers, when the time came. The other half, to Iruka's surprise, was treacherous terrain. Anko and him decided that each one would pick a different side of the hallway, so they would cover more ground faster. Even so, they ended up helping each other most of the time — if it weren't the stubborn blinds refusing to be opened, then there was this mysteriously big and heavy piece of covered furniture that blocked the path, sometimes even disabling the door from the inside.
They didn't talk at first. Not much more aside from the basics and essentials. Iruka felt he was still walking around that dry field, and that any sudden movement could cast a spark, and then everything would turn black again.
He was making an enormous effort to bit his tongue at Anko's quips. She was trying to keep her venom at bay, too. Even so, the first two hours were excruciating.
When Iruka first fell face on the floor because he paid no mind to Anko's advice — his ego stupidly inflated because he was trying so hard — time stopped. Anko froze. The stuff she was carrying on her lap fell down as well.
"Iruka? Are you okay?"
She asked, tentatively, when Iruka didn't move. One could think that she was sincerely worrying about his health state — which, partially, was true — but what was even more truer is that she was silently asking for permission to laugh her ass off.
Iruka grunted. Then, he turned his face just enough for his voice to be heard.
"Yeah…" he bumped his forehead into the uneven floor, responsible for his ungraceful fall. "First hand embarrassment did kill me today."
Green.
When Anko finally caught her breath, and actually helped an uninjured Iruka to get back to his feet, things between them went smoother. Still, they never touched sensible topics. That meant small talk — tons of it — and lighthearted jokes, which were very much welcomed.
They were finishing their last room when Anko found something hideous hidden between some dusty metallic shelves.
"This will look good down in the rest room."
"Pffft. Over my dead body."
"Ha!"
Anko stood with her hands on her hips, triumph written all over her face. Iruka had his arms crossed — a defensive pose for an offensive situation — along with a deep scowl on display.
"We can't simply take that! You don't know where has it been before. It could be… huh… unsafe? Plus. It's ugly."
"Yeah well… before someone took it out from its carcass, it must have belonged to a living animal. Am I right?" Anko side eyed Iruka, lifting a daring brow. "It must have been here since then, I guess. Taxidermists are meticulous creatures. Besides, it looks cool as hell."
"I can't see how a couple organs in jars are 'cool' or anything as decoration. For studying purposes? Of course. As some junk next to the coffee machine? Of course not."
Iruka was firm on his decision.
"Besides, they reek of formaldehyde." Not satisfied with his latest retort, Iruka continued, a smirk spreading on his face. "Also if you want to use them to claim that poky little room as yours, I'll steal them."
Anko opened her mouth to protest, but Iruka interrupted her before she could barely emit a sound.
"Aaand it probably wasn't a taxidermist who worked on these organs. They tend to discard them to, you know, preserve said carcass."
He needed to say it. Otherwise, he would implode. He wasn't called 'smartass' for nothing.
Anko gasped and put her hands over her chest, visibly hurt.
"Okay. If things are like this now…" she crouched in front of the jars, casting a final look. "You'll have to rip them off my cold hands!"
She tried to run away with one of the suspicious jars.
"That coffee machine is mine! Catch me if you can!"
Her voice faded throughout the hallway as she tried to scape, but the war cry had already stirred something inside Iruka, something creaky and long forgotten that ached to be remembered.
Iruka ran behind her.
He caught Anko before she could reach the staircase, and successfully tackled her down. They ended up tangled together, laughing and trying to claim their odd prize.
"It's mine!"
"No! It's mine!"
"Wait!"
Playing around was fun but, like a couple gears finally clicking clicking together. A mischievous grin spread across Iruka's face.
"I have a better idea…"
Anko already knew that face. She had seen it so many, many times when they were teenagers. It only meant one thing: trouble.
When they finally finished their devilish conversation, they trotted down the stairs. The jar was already hidden away from the untrained eye. They resumed their innocent walk at a slower pace when they heard a couple people talking around a corner.
Anko and Iruka were absentmindedly waiting until they were alone again when said group passed by their side. Kakashi followed, not really engaging with them, but using them as a shield.
When he spotted the oddly quiet duo, he raised both brows at Anko to a comical extent. Iruka knew his friend's face very well, and Kakashi must knew her as much too, because he interpreted the same thing.
Green.
Kakashi's tired gaze — as if nothing could impress him at this point — darted to Iruka, his kind eyes crinkling again.
"Glad to meet you again, sensei."
Then, he waved them goodbye doing a silly salute with two fingers. At least that's what Iruka interpreted. He must have failed greatly because Anko was laughing again, but it was the evil kind that made her look like a witch or something. Iruka laughed too, even though he had no clue about what had just happened. He paid no mind. He was seeing green.
***
It had been a decent day. Good, even.
He could do it again without breaking a sweat, though he preferred not to put a foot on the old part of the school again. It gave him the chills. There wasn't anything inherently scary about it, it was simply a weird atmosphere. He had asked Anko about the attic, but she refused to get there. He felt relieved at that moment, but now he could only wonder about the hidden treasures, waiting to be discovered. Or maybe not.
As Iruka gathered his keys to open the door behind which a certain blonde goblin would be waiting for him, he gave one last thought to his old friend. Even if they managed to maintain a somewhat civilized facade today, he knew things would go downhill once the initial prudence wore off.
That was business for Future Iruka.
Now, he had to…
"Iruka!"
The tiny goblin in question ran towards him, crashing over his legs. He hugged his knees. Iruka crouched down to hug him back, not simply stroke his soft hair. They've been apart for hours — it felt like days, given how many things had happened since he left their apartment that very morning.
To Naruto, who had a radically different experience with time, it must have felt like years. He have been alive only for three years. Oh, all the wonders he could experience for the first time. Iruka could only imagine how marvelous it'd be, and how lucky they both were for being together.
"Iruka did you meet my teacher?!"
Naruto reached a tone so dangerously shrill by the time he spelled 'teacher' that Iruka had hide a wince.
"I fear I haven't see them yet." Naruto pouted. "Maybe tomorrow? I'll need to meet everyone anyways."
Naruto lowered his gaze. Iruka knew he wasn't that sad about not knowing that small piece of information but about the prospect of being left behind again.
"Besides… I have a report to debrief with a certain someone."
Naruto gasped, obviously excited. He was so easy to content… for now.
In the meantime, their neighbor gathered her things and waited by their side next to the front door.
"I owe you my life, seriously."
The girl smiled him back, satisfied. She was young, but she knew already that she'd fund a family of her own some day, even if she had to do so alone. Some people simply knew it. Iruka quietly admired her as well. Even so, spending a whole morning with Naruto could be pretty tiring, so Iruka thanked their neighbor once again and let her rest at the peace of her apartment.
He would need her help again tomorrow. Perhaps he should consider establishing a salary, given the amount of time that girl should spend taking care of Naruto. How didn't he think about that sooner?
"Irukaaa, I'm hungry."
Oh, the eternal statement.
"Okay, let's eat something real fast and easy."
It wasn't easy.
Iruka looked at the clock hanging from their kitchen's walls: it was past three in the afternoon. Naruto was used to eat at two o'clock during the summer, so this delay only meant trouble now. He was fed some snacks midmorning, but kids had black holes instead of stomachs — specially Naruto, who could burn all of his calorie intake simply by talking nonstop for hours.
The task proved itself quite torturous.
Naruto was past his lunch time, which meant he had turned into an impatient and picky ball of golden hair that used tantrums as a cathartic medium for his desperation and impotence. He was too small to feed himself. He needed an adult at any moment of the day.
Every time Naruto cried Iruka feared he wasn't enough for him, that he wasn't taking good care of his body, mind and heart.
It will be too much. You'll see. And then you'll come back to me, and it'll be too late. I'm telling you now so you don't have to suffer later. It's too much for you. Forget about it.
Hell, no.
"Naruto!"
He snapped back from his dry crying. Big blue eyes locked their gaze on Iruka's.
"We are eating a mess today!"
"Huh?"
Iruka had been finally able to catch his attention, at least. It was a start.
"Come here." Naruto do as he told, and then Iruka lifted him from the floor, holding him up on his hip.
"We will look at the cabinets and the fridge together and then you can choose whatever you want." When he realized the implied mistake, he added quickly, holding up his index finger in front of Naruto's face: "But no chocolate, okay? Anything but chocolate."
"I can't eat chocolate?"
He started pouting again but, before he could break a full sob, Iruka made his next move. He opened the fridge, his now free hand resting at his forehead to block the imaginary sun. Iruka gasped audibly to catch Naruto's attention.
"Shiver me timbers! Do you see that, seadog?"
It worked. Naruto was instantly searching with his eyes for what had caught Iruka's attention.
"See what, captain?"
"Don't you see it? Look closer."
Iruka put Naruto on the ground and squatted by his side, holding him with an arm over his little shoulders.
Naruto seemed thoughtful. In the name of honesty, Iruka was playing the bit to get Naruto engaged, a trick that would focus his attention and actually help him choose what he wanted to eat.
"Hm…"
With a small finger, he tapped his chin. It was an habit he inherited from Iruka. Suddenly, he felt a bit guilty for tricking Naruto into this improvised plan.
Iruka got snapped out from his thoughts when Naruto sharply gasped. "I see it!"
"What is it that you see? Tell me."
"That!"
He pointed at the thing in question with the same finger he used to tap his chin a few moments ago. The door had been open for a while now, and Iruka could only wonder about how will it affect to the food inside. Thankfully, it wasn't summer anymore.
They ended up eating leftovers from an attempted lasagna. The cheese was spongy and the dough was dry, but they ate contently anyways. Iruka hadn't realized how hungry he was.
"I'm going to pee."
The solemnity in Naruto's voice scared Iruka.
"Are you going to the bathroom on your own?"
"Yes. I'm big now. I'm starting school tomorrow."
He meant 'next week', but the crisis was averted either way.
"Okay. I'll prepare your room for the nap, is that okay?"
"Yes! But I'm not sleepy."
Naruto was already on his way to the bathroom. Yawning.
Iruka went to Naruto's bedroom, determined to prepare it for said nap. He only needed to draw the curtains close and tuck in the sheets a little, and maybe take a plushie or two from the floor. And take three pairs of shoes he didn't need to wear away. And those pajamas over there. And the rug, meant to be under the bed, was now under the window. And…
Iruka sighed. He surely needed the nap more than Naruto. He fell face down on Naruto's bed, inhaling his kid's scent. His kid. Iruka smiled. His school. His coworkers. His friend.
Iruka grabbed a pillow and screamed into it.