Chapter 7
Iruka's bones ached as he meandered home that night: A sure sign of his age. His neck twinged, yet he still kept his head craned back to watch the stars while he walked. They looked like little white-sand islands in a black sea. There was no need for him to look down: He knew the path from the school to his house so well he was sure he could walk it blind, and there was no need to watch out for danger with the village being safer than it had ever been.
He wasn’t quite sure what made him look down the dark winding alley as he passed it. Perhaps he sensed that someone was there. In any case, he darted his gaze away again, ignoring the figure slumped against the wall. Most likely a drunk.
In the second that he glanced away however he had already registered who it was leaning into the darkness. He stopped in the middle of the street, in between the glare of the streetlights, frozen.
A single glint of pale silver, dulled by years and the shine of the weak moonlight.
“Yamato?”
When he called out Yamato turned to look at him, and Iruka started.
He looked nothing like the teacher remembered at all. His wide eyes were offset by dark bags piled underneath them. One of his hands was tucked inside his vest, but the one held at his side was shaking.
Iruka abandoned the well-lit path.
“What’s wrong? Has something happened”, he asked as he approached the jonin.
His heart began to thud in his throat as Yamato stared at him without answering. All these years of peace; a falsehood, he knew. How could there ever truly be peace? He thought of Boruto, of Himawari. Would they be ready to fight, if they had to, as so many of his students had fought before? Would he have to hide with them to keep them safe, as an attack raged around them, as he had with Konohamaru and his friends on the day of Orochimaru’s invasion?
“It’s nothing, really”, Yamato said, his voice even. Too calm.
Iruka shook his head violently, grasped Yamato’s upper arms. The man was slouching and Iruka pulled him up to stand straight, feeling biceps tense beneath his grip.
“Don’t lie to me. What’s going on?” Something dawned on him. “It’s Orochimaru, isn’t it?”
Yamato jumped. “How did you know that?”
Iruka tightened his grip. “Has it already begun? Is he here?” They had to get to Naruto. Orochimaru had killed Lord Third, he remembered that well enough. He didn’t think he could kill Naruto, he had tried and failed previously, but Iruka wasn’t about to take any chances. If Orochimaru was attacking now he clearly had a plan; the man may have been insane but he wasn’t stupid, and he most definitely wasn’t suicidal.
Yamato was staring at him, head tilted. “What?”
“The invasion”, Iruka gasped.
Yamato’s face is so close to his now. His eyes are huge dark pools, black as the night sky.
“Oh”, he said. “Oh.” He clasped Iruka's hands between his own trembling ones and gently removed them from his arms. They felt clammy and cold. “There’s no invasion, Iruka. You don’t have to worry at all. You’re safe, I promise.”
“But- Orochimaru-”
“I’m the only one who has to deal with him now.” Yamato was smiling, face calm yet bitter.
Iruka took a deep breath and stepped back. His feet felt heavy, like boulders.
“Deal with him?”, he asked. “How?”
“Kakashi has assigned me as his guard. He’s at a secure location. I’ve just come back from… His home.” Yamato spoke calmly and slowly, each word dripping with some sort of... Regret? Guilt? Iruka wasn't sure.
Yamato was quiet for a moment, and Iruka appreciated it: His head was spinning while he attempted to process that news. He continued; “I think Kakashi believes guarding him will give me some sense of justice. That I get to watch the man who tormented me through my childhood suffer.” He met Iruka's eyes. “But I don’t want anything to do with him.” He shrugged. “And I don’t think he’s really suffering as much as the rest of the village thinks.”
“What do you mean?”
Yamato looked away. “Oh, it’s nothing.” Neither of them spoke for a moment, and then Yamato said; “I understand it’s an important job, but sometimes being around him… It gets to me.” His voice dropped to a mere murmur, and Iruka strained to hear him. “And the jars… All those jars.”
“I can talk to Kakashi about it if you like”, Iruka said quickly. He didn’t like the way Yamato was retreating back into himself, his voice and face growing blanker, emptier. “Naruto and the others would listen, too.”
“No. I don’t want to make a fuss.” Yamato attempted a smile. “Besides, it’s my duty and I’m happy to protect the village.”
Iruka wasn’t convinced: Yamato still wasn’t meeting his eyes.
“Well, if you’re sure”, he said eventually. He tucked his hands into his jacket pockets to keep them warm.
All of a sudden, Yamato looked up to meet his gaze, and the full intensity of his gaze made Iruka want to reel back. “What are you doing out so late, anyway?”
“Ah.” Iruka huffed a breath. “I stayed late at the school to get some paperwork and things done: I’m just heading home.”
“I can walk you home if you like.”
Iruka hesitated. He really didn’t need company on his journey. But, he thought, it seemed that Yamato might.
“Sure.”
The two of them set off, walking not quite shoulder to shoulder, through the dead quiet of the normally bustling village.
Out of the quiet came Yamato’s voice, disembodied in the night. “When I’m away from the village I forget, sometimes.”
“You forget?”
A soft exhale. “Why I’m doing this… All of this shit that I’m doing. But when I’m back here, I remember.”
Iruka looked at him. Yamato was keeping his eyes trained straight ahead.
“I can never remember such peace in the village before”, the jonin continued. “The children grow up happy, with loving families.”
Iruka thought of Boruto and Himawari; of Sarada; of Inojin, Shikadai, Chouchou; of all of the other children that chased about his feet, shrieking with laughter, when he crossed the schoolyard. He let himself smile.
“Yeah. We’ve been introducing other classes at the academy now, you know.”
“Other classes?”
“Yep. Things outside of fighting and survival. Like arts and crafts, cooking, sports. It’s… Getting better.” There was a long way to go yet; things wouldn’t change completely with Naruto’s inauguration as the Hokage. But it was a start.
Even though Iruka knew that Yamato would most likely not appreciate those changes, since he never attended the academy himself, the small smile that crossed his face was hopeful.
“Sai told me he got to do an art class with some of the groups last year. It sounded like he enjoyed it.” Yamato glanced at Iruka. “How was he as a teacher?”
“Not bad, surprisingly. He actually seemed less nervous than Shino. You know… Maybe I could arrange for you to come in, to talk about your work?”
However, Yamato was already shaking his head. “No. I don’t think my work is all that appropriate for kids.”
He continued to smile as he spoke, but his eyes were still disquieting. Large and empty.
Coming up in the distance was a sight as familiar to Iruka as his own home: Ichiraku's. Light streamed from the door of the ramen restaurant even at that late hour.
Iruka found his feet coming to a halt outside.
“Hey”, he reached out, without thinking, and his fingers brushed Yamato’s sleeve. The fabric was soft and surprisingly cool beneath his fingers.
Yamato jumped a little.
“Ah- sorry.” Iruka let his hand fall. They stood in the lights for a moment, Iruka shuffling one foot, before he asked; “Did you want to get something to eat? My treat.”
“I am kind of hungry, but…” Yamato stopped almost sheepishly, peering up at Iruka from under his lowered gaze. “Don’t you need to sleep?”
“It’s fine”, Iruka assured him, attempting to sound less tired than he was. “I need to eat, too.” Well, that was true. It felt like his stomach was almost touching his spine.
Yamato’s face was completely illuminated by the lights, so solemn and still, before it finally broke into a genuine smile. Happiness lit his gaze for the first time since Iruka saw him against the wall, and he stepped away and opened the curtains for Iruka to walk through without another word.