Chapter 12: Building Destruction: Chapter 1: Age 12 A Happy Graduation

 

-o-o-o- Iruka, age 12 -o-o-o-

Iruka curled into himself, glowering at the floor. The rest of his class had rushed out of the classroom in a record eight point three seconds, already starting the cheering and partying required after graduation, but Iruka lingered, staring numbly at the brand new hitai-ate in his hands. Slowly a shadow crossed the floor and Iruka looked up.

“Shouldn’t you be out there with the others? I’m pretty sure I saw Anko sneaking a crate of beer towards Asuma’s. He and Kurenai are throwing a party for the new grads that I’m not supposed to know about; you’ve heard right?” Iruka nodded, but didn’t move. Slowly his sensei knelt, coming closer to the small brunette. “So why are you still in here?”

“I like it here. I’ve always liked it here.”

The older man sat, leaning his back against the same wall Iruka was propped against. “Yes, but everyone must leave the academy at some point. Even me. Even you.”

“Mizuki’s been smuggling sake for the past week. He’ll be upset if I don’t show up and do my part.”

The sensei laughed, looking at his pupil for a moment. “Is that why you’re really here? You’re avoiding Mizuki?”

Iruka’s eyes snapped up, giving away the truth in an instant. “What? No! Mizuki’s my friend, why would I . . .” He trailed off under the man’s knowing smile.

“You two have been all but inseparable for quite a while. But you’ve been avoiding him for almost a month. Stealing glances, blushing after he makes some joke-“

“It’s not like that, Sensei! I-“

“Iruka.” The teenager dropped into instant silence, blushing slightly. “Iruka, it’s pretty obvious you want to talk to him about how you feel, why don’t you go do it?”

Young Iruka looked up at his Sensei again. It was true, of course; he’d been wanting to talk to Mizuki for weeks. Had been obsessing over the other boy’s feelings and possible reactions. Wondering just what would happen if Mizuki accepted Iruka’s offer of more-than-friendship . . . the blood rushed to his face again, pinkening his cheeks as his teenage mind took that to its obvious conclusion.

Iruka looked up at his Sensei as the older man rested one hand on his shoulder with a smile. “Either way, this isn’t where you should be right now. Get up and race out of here with your fellows. Go help them trash Asuma’s apartment and make that boy regret hosting you. Partake of the alcohol I know nothing about.” Iruka broke into a smile, climbing to his feet and helping the older man stand as well. “As your teacher I can give you one last piece of advice today. If you talk to your friend, the worst he could do is say no and you’ll hurt for a little while. If you stay silent and spend your life wondering what if, you will hurt for quite a bit longer.”

“Thank you, Sensei. I’ll see you later.” Iruka steered himself toward the door, hoping Asuma’s party would be a good distraction, whether he talked to Mizuki or not.

-o-o-o-o-o-

“Are you sure you wanna do this, Iruka?”

The newly made genin nodded at Kurenai absently, making sure he had everything he needed. “You want your party to be a hit, right?”

“Well, yeah, but I thought that’s what the sake was for.”

Iruka just smirked again. “Hey, I got here late, I gotta make an entrance. Trust me, all right?” Iruka’s hands flew through the seals for a transformation and once the smoke cleared he smiled. “Well?”

“Damn, man. I’m glad you told me about this ahead of time. You look just like the third; Asuma’s gonna shit himself!” The brunette grabbed the prepared sake bottle in one hand and dropped her eyes, looking as though she were in serious trouble.

Iruka grabbed her upper arm, scowling angrily himself. Together, the two stalked quickly from the side alley they’d hidden themselves in and around to the front door of Asuma’s apartment. Using his free hand, he opened the door, slamming it into the wall behind it. Everyone looked up at the violent entrance and froze, seeing what they believed to be their Hokage, young Chunin held prisoner. Lea, a straight ‘A’ student through her school days, gave a brief scream, dropping the large can of Kirin beer she’d been about to drink from. Another two students hastily hid similar cans behind their backs while another wisely ducked into the kitchen. Asuma gave a most undignified ‘eep’, dropping both the cigarette from his mouth and the lighter he’d been using to light it.

Iruka struggled to keep up the angry scowl. He hadn’t even spoken yet! Anger thrummed from him as he pounded towards the unsuspecting host of the party. He bent to the ground quickly, retrieving the unlit cig, and stood again, holding it inches from the boy’s face. “The legal smoking age is sixteen,” the boy paled considerably. Iruka turned to the girl he still held captive. “And the legal drinking age is twenty!” He grabbed the bottle – an expensive and big bottle that had been carefully emptied and filled with water – and upended it to the shouts and groans of many of the celebrators. “And you!”

Iruka spun on Mizuki, who had been slowly creeping towards the door. His friend had known about the prank ahead of time and was valiantly acting out his role. He stayed crouched on the ground, but spun back to Iruka. “Hokage-sama, I wasn’t doing anything! You need to relax.”

The various gathered genin and the few chunin turned their terrified gazes from the ‘Hokage’ to look at Mizuki, completely stunned. Iruka stalked towards the boy slowly. “What was that?”

Mizuki gulped, completely looking the terrified young man. “Well, I just meant-“

“You know what?” Iruka suddenly looked up brightly. “You might be right.” There were several distinct thuds as more than one child’s knees gave out. “But if you’re going to party, you’ve got to do it right.” Mizuki smiled, opening the door and hauling in the first of several crates that had been carefully placed just outside. Iruka turned back towards Asuma, pulling out a brand new pack of cigarettes. He lobbed the small package at the man, enjoying the way his stunned mind barely reacted enough for him to catch it, before letting the jutsu drop.

Mizuki pulled in the rest of the crates before slapping Iruka firmly on the back in congratulations. The rest of the party was slowly coming out of their shock, laughing and hooting at the “unbe-fucking-lievably mean-ass prank.” Anko all but sprinted to the kitchen, retrieving a shot glass, then back to the crates of sake and filled said glass. It was only the first of several pushed into Iruka’s hands.

Hours later, as the party was finally winding down, it took Mizuki both hands to keep the young prankster on his feet. He steered the boy towards the door, managing three steps before tripping over their combined feet. The two lay there for a moment, giggling madly before Iruka made a valiant effort to get up. Once the futile attempt was out of his system, he looked at his friend, mostly sandwiched beneath him. Quickly he lowered his head, kissing the other boy messily. After a moment, he shifted, burying his forehead against the other’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he muttered.

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Mizuki shifted, wrapping his arms around the weight atop him. “Iruka, you’re drunk.”

“Yes.”

“Uh, well, you shouldn’t go making decisions like this when drunk.”

Iruka shifted quickly, first biting, then licking his friend’s throat. “Why not?”

Mizuki shivered. “Um, gimme a second, I’m trying to remember.”

“Mizuki-kun.” The boy fell silent. “Can we go back to your place? I think Anko’s staring at us.”

Sure enough, the young kunoichi was watching the two boys on the floor. When Mizuki twisted around to glare at her, she laughed and stood. “Our little ‘Ruka is so cute when he’s completely smashed. Here, I’ll help you get him home, you’ve had a few yourself.”

Mizuki struggled to his feet as the scarred teen was hauled off of him. “Hey, I’m holdin’ mine better’en he is.” Anko just giggled, helping the boys home. That is, to Mizuki’s house; Iruka refused to release his hold on his friend’s arm.

-o-o-o-o-o-

When Iruka woke the next morning, he curled tightly into a ball, clutching at his head. Mizuki shifted behind him and began to rub his back. “How you feelin’?”

Groan. “Don’t-“ his voice stuttered and he curled tighter. “No talking. Too loud.”

Mizuki laughed, shifting out of bed and heading towards his bathroom. “I’ll get you something for that headache.” After a moment, he reappeared, popping two pills himself. “Hey ‘Ruka.”

“Ah?”

“You’ve never been drunk before, right?”

“Ah.”

“What do you remember from last night?”

Iruka’s hands dropped to the bed and he stared blindly in front of him. His eyes darkened slightly as he replayed the night’s events. “That depends, did I insult you? Did I . . .”

Mizuki crossed to the bed, holding out the blessed pain relief. “Well, I don’t regret anything that happened. I’d be willing to forget, though, if you-“

“No, I don’t regret anything!” Iruka sat bolt upright, eager to deny the allegation. He quickly slouched back down, once again cradling his skull and groaning. After a minute – and quickly downed aspirin – he spoke into the bed sheets. “It’s all kinda fuzzy after the drinking game with Asuma, but I’m pretty sure I remember everything. I’ve wanted to . . . with you . . . couple weeks now . . .” The boy’s ability to make sense dwindled as his blush deepened to a scarlet.

Mizuki lowered himself onto the mattress. “If that’s really how you feel, maybe we could try again when you’re feeling better. Unless that stuff knocks you out, of course.” Iruka didn’t move for a minute. Finally he looked up at his friend . . . lover . . . and nodded. It sounded like a great idea, if only the room would stop pulsing with the pain in his head.

-o-o-o- Iruka, age 25 -o-o-o-

Iruka looked blankly at the darkened ceiling above him. He felt blindly in the bed beside him, fingers brushing a warm arm. Slowly he turned onto his side, seeking out the masked profile there beside him. He reached up, reverently tracing the covered jaw line. His hand trailed down the man’s arm, coming to rest on one bare bicep. Shifting again, he leaned into the shoulder, reveling the warmth against his forehead.

“Ka-kun?”

The jounin shifted, smoothly turning and pulling his free arm up and over the teacher beside him. “You’re supposed to think I’m still asleep, you know.”

Iruka just buried his head further into the man’s arm. He’d learned weeks ago that whenever he woke up, Kakashi was awake as well, even when he pretended not to be. There had been less than a half dozen times Iruka had managed to wake up and not disturb the man. It was comforting in a way, to know they were so well attuned. To know that Kakashi was attuned enough to him to wake at almost the slightest movement, and cared enough most of the time to feign sleep.

Mizuki had never done that. On the rare occasions they’d spent the whole night together, he would wake and leave without so much as a look at Iruka. The teacher shivered, again tightening his hold. Kakashi’s hand began to stroke the nape of the brunette’s neck, playing with the fine hairs there. The question came as he knew it would; Kakashi always asked, even though he’d not once gotten an answer in the four months they’d been officially dating. “You want to talk about it?”

Iruka shook his head – no more than a vague rubbing of his forehead across the copy nin’s shoulder. His sensei had been a great man, but he had been wrong. Talking to Mizuki all those years ago had caused quite a bit more pain than keeping his silence ever could have. Still, in a twisted way, it had led to this. To Kakashi wrapped around him, strong fingers chasing away the nightmares. To a gentle kiss nuzzled into the top of his head, the breeze flowing softly through the open window in the room. It was twisted and wrong, but Iruka had Mizuki to thank for it all.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Iru-chan.”

-o-o-o-o-o-

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