midnightdiddle

The new Part 18, which is also known as Chapter 7. Yes, ladies and non-existant gentlemen, the one and only Chapter 7. I wrote it. Finally.

!-!-! Present !-!-!

Shikamaru paused atop a dune, feet sinking into the sand. The stars overhead were pale, little more than pinpricks of faint light, and the moon looked the color of paper left out in the sun too long. Shikamaru adjusted the straps of the bag, pulled it higher up on his back, and sighed, stretching his back as he twisted from side to side.

“Tch,” he groaned, “too long.” He was late and he could already hear the Hokage’s tired irritation, could already see Ino’s hurt expression. He tugged on the pack’s straps once more, then shifted, kicking the sand from his sandals.

!-!-! Three Months Before !-!-!

“Anko!”

Anko paused on the rooftop, rubbing her face as she turned. “Tsume-san,” she said tiredly.

“Anko,” Tsume repeated, “we need to talk.” The older woman turned, began walking across the roof, and Anko followed slowly.

“What about, Tsume-san?”

The women stopped at the edge of the roof, looked down into the street. Tsume was frowning at the people walking below and Anko swallowed.

“We’re being stretched too thin already,” Tsume said. “They’re putting chuunin in charge of teams. Chuunin, Anko.”

Anko looked up, eyes narrowed. “You’re talking about Iruka,” she said sharply. Tsume inclined her head and Anko’s face stiffened. “Iruka’s good, he’s a good leader. He’ll do well, he-”

“He’s a teacher, Anko,” Tsume interrupted. “A teacher. He doesn’t do missions, doesn’t work in teams.”

“I’m assuming there’s a reason for this conversation,” Anko said coldly. Tsume gave her a strained smile.

“I’m hoping you’re better than him,” she said bluntly. “Hana’s on your team.” Tsume paused then continued speaking, voice sharp. “Hana’s important to me, Anko. She’s my daughter, and my heir. My clan relies on her, I rely on her. Swear you’ll get her home safe?”

Anko rubbed her fingertips along the edges of her jacket, fingernails catching on the loose, worn threads. “I can’t do that, Tsume-san. It’ll endanger the rest of my team, I can’t play favorites-”

“She’s still a child-”

“She’s not,” Anko broke in, “a child. She’s not much younger than me.”

Tsume looked at her strangely, something close to a frown on her face. “I didn’t let you die, Anko.”

Anko snarled, clenched her hands into fists, fingernails cutting into her palms. “That was years ago, Tsume-san,” she spat.

“You promised me whatever I wanted,” Tsume said, voice close to victorious. The frown was lessening, sliding into a look of practiced blankness.

“I was a child!”

“Protect Hana,” Tsume said again. Anko snapped her mouth shut, teeth clacking together.

“Fine,” she ground out. Tsume stepped forward quickly, leaning in to kiss Anko’s cheek. Anko stumbling away, hands rising defensively, and Tsume stepped back.

“Thank you, Anko.”

!-!-! Present !-!-!

Anko rolled over onto her side, looking through the bushes to watch Izumo. Izumo was staring back, face blank and calm, and Anko breathed slowly.

“Hana,” she murmured into the girl’s ear, “Hana, how far are they?”

“A third a mile,” Hana said softly, lips barely moving. “Maybe less. I’m not sure.”

The older woman clenched her eyes shut, bit her tongue until she tasted blood. Hana moved next to her, cold skin and shaking limbs, and Anko opened her eyes slowly.

“You’re going to run. You and Hoshi and Kaito, all three of you.” Anko grabbed a branch, pulling herself upwards a bit, and reached out, fingertips touching Kaito’s sleeve. “Take Hana and go southwest, towards the lines. Izumo and I will wait here, then go east, try to take the Sound with us.”

Kaito hesitated, muscles bunched still under her hand, and she tightened her fingers around his arm.

“Run,” she hissed. “Get Hana back. Hurry up and go, that’s an order.”

Kaito nodded, pulling back and away from her. He pushed up from the ground, crouching on his heels, and tugged Hana up with him. He took a few steps back, Hana stepping with him, then turned, leaping up onto a branch, Hana a half-step behind. Hoshi crawled from beneath the bushes, shooting Anko a look before he jumped up, clambering up the tree behind Kaito. Anko watched them pass from shadow to shadow until her eyes burned. She blinked and they were gone, slipping past branches and trees.

“Anko?” Izumo asked. He pulled himself along the ground until he was lying near Anko, his head next to hers, and Anko could smell Kotetsu’s blood on him, sharp and bitter, metallic.

“They’ll catch us,” he said thoughtlessly, “they’ll smell the blood.” His head was turned so he could look up at the stars through the bushes leaves, and Anko turned so she could watch the sky as well. A cloud slipped across the sky slowly, sliding in and out of view around the branches, covering the dim stars.

“We’d never get back anyways, not all of us.” Anko shifted, felt her back pop, and then leaned to her side, shoulder touching Izumo’s. “Are you sorry? That you’ll die?”

Izumo stiffened next to her, then relaxed, twisting his hand until his fingertips were brushing hers, his palm curled around her hand. “I don’t think you’d want to know, Anko,” he said almost gently. Anko blinked rapidly, gripping his hand.

“You hate me?” she asked suddenly, stupidly. Izumo’s fingertips moved against hers, rubbing in little circles, and she let her head loll to the side, looking away from him.

“I hate you.” It was said frankly and Anko felt her heart miss a beat. “I hate you more than anyone else right now.” His fingers were cool and wet, sticky with blood, and Anko half-heartedly tried to pull her hand from his. His grip tightened on hers, pulling her hand closer to his body. “Cold?” he asked.

“I had to, Izumo.” Her voice was sharper than she had expected, louder than their previous whispers, and she stopped, swallowing before she continued, voice soft again. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Always a choice-”

“It was either him or my team,” she said desperately. His fingers stopped their small circles for a moment, then his thumb began running over the side of her hand. She could see Kotetsu looking at her with accusing eyes, throat gaping open, and blood, caking both their bodies, even when she clenched her eyes shut.

“I’m cold,” she said, because everything else was too hard to say, got stuck in her too-tight throat, couldn’t make it past her too-dry mouth. “I’m cold,” she repeated, softer, because they were the only words she could say, because no other words were strong enough, because Kotetsu was dead and it was all her fault.

“Doesn’t matter,” Izumo said, then he rolled over, lifting himself up until he was hanging over her. She opened her eyes involuntarily and he smiled at her, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. “We’ll be running soon. You’ll warm up then.”

Anko reached up, tugged at the hair hanging over his eye, then touched his face, palm fitting against his cheek. “‘m sorry,” she whispered. “‘m sorry.”

Izumo let his head drop until his forehead was pressed against hers. His eyes slid shut and he swallowed, jaw clenched tight.

“I know.”

!-!-! Two and a Half Months Before !-!-!

The night was hot, and those trying to sleep were restless, flinging their arms to the side, rolling about to try to find a spot of cool dirt. Kakashi walked along slowly, stepping over the flung limbs, peering through the dark to try to find Iruka. All the face looked nearly the same, tired and drawn, fading one into another, and Kakashi was about to give up when he found himself staring at a scarred nose. Iruka was sitting up, eyes half-closed, and he was yawning.

“Iruka-sensei?” Kakashi knelt in the dirt next to the teacher. Iruka yawned again and stretched his arms above his head, fingertips reaching to the dark sky.

“Yes, Kakashi?” Iruka sounded as though he was laughing and Kakashi squinted in the dark, trying to catch a smile on the chuunin’s face.

“Were you serious, what you said earlier today?”

Iruka looked up, his eyes dark smudges on his face, and Kakashi fought the urge to touch him. “About fucking?” the teacher asked.

Kakashi could feel his skin burn beneath the mask and, trying to ignore the blush slowly creeping up his face, nodded. Iruka smiled, teeth momentarily gleaming white in the dark, and Kakashi wondered how he felt threatened by the chuunin.

“Of course I did.” The chuunin’s voice was blithely innocent. Kakashi didn’t believe it for a moment.

“That’s-” he faltered, “-nice. Very nice.” Iruka’s lips were turning upwards and Kakashi leaned forward, eyes fastened on the teacher’s face.

“Kiss me,” Iruka commanded, and Kakashi leaned backwards, looking at Iruka with a half-hooded eye.

“Kiss you?” he asked, trying to sound careless. “Why?”

Iruka leaned forward, face getting closer and closer to Kakashi’s, until Kakashi could feel the faintest breath upon his lips. “Because I want you to,” the chuunin said.

“I don’t think,” Kakashi began, the smallest bit affronted, “I like being told what to do in a relationship.”

Iruka did laugh this time, and his breath sent shivers down Kakashi’s spine. “There won’t be a relationship if you don’t hurry up and kiss me,” Iruka reprimanded almost gently. Kakashi leaned in the last bit of space, then pulled back.

“Why am I kissing you? Why don’t you kiss me?”

The chuunin’s smile was wicked this time, sharp and bright and biting. “Because I’m just the innocent school teacher, and you’re the big bad jounin.”

“Big- big bad-” Kakashi coughed, choking on his laughter, and Iruka leaned forward, kissing him.

!-!-! Present !-!-!

“I started things,” Iruka said softly, staring down at his hands. He was clutching a rations bar tightly, the bar crumbling beneath his fingers. His hands were shaking, light tremors that ran up his arms, through his shoulders, covering his whole body. He tightened his hands even more, trying to hide the shaking, and tried to ignore the way Gai was watching him.

“Sensei?” Gai asked, curiosity overrun with something else, something Iruka couldn’t catch.

“With Kakashi,” the teacher said in explanation, raising the bar to take a small bite. “I started things.” He chewed and swallowed with difficulty, then slumped down into the blanket. His eyes slid closed, and Gai reached forward, tugging the blanket tighter around Iruka.

"We should start moving," the jounin said regretfully, staring at the ground. A bar wrapper was held in his hands, and he fiddled with it, the wrapper crinkling in the sudden quiet. Gai cleared his throat and Iruka barely nodded, eyes still closed.

"Right," Iruka murmured. He opened his eyes and blinked away the black spots swimming in his eyes. He felt curiously dull, like the edge of a knife was cutting into him, but he couldn't feel the pain for all his mind tried to grasp it. He knew his body was falling apart, could feel it in the way his heart would miss a beat now and again, and in the way his lungs gave a dull sting at every breath. He could feel himself dying, and at the same time, he felt like he was outside of his body, watching it break down and give up, and how he hated giving up.

Gai was staring at him and Iruka tried to smile. The rations bar in his hand shook and he bit his lip. "Don't want to die," he whispered, and when Gai leaned forward Iruka wanted to bite his tongue. "I don't want to die," he repeated miserably, shoving what was left of the rations bar into his mouth so he could try and pretend he hadn't said that.

Gai's smile was gone. His face was still, frozen in an expression Iruka couldn't ever remember seeing on the jounin. Gai wasn't a sad man, never was, and when Iruka saw that look in Gai's eyes, the sad, pitying look, he was lost. He couldn't understand how Gai could smile and laugh and pretend it was all going to be alright, when it wasn't. Nothing was going to end up right, Iruka knew it, and Iruka wanted to scream, yell, kick something, kill something, but he couldn't. He couldn't even talk without feeling blood bubble up, thick and black and hot, crawling from his lungs into his mouth, trying to choke him. Iruka couldn't do it, couldn't make it. He was going to die, and then Kakashi- oh, God, Kakashi-

A strangled sound, somewhere between a sob and a cough, broke from his throat, and Iruka covered his mouth with his hands, catching the blood in his fingers. He coughed once, then once again, and wiped the back of his hand against the back of his mouth. He could taste his life on his tongue, bitter and metallic, and could see it on his hands, shining wetly under the moonlight. Gai was looking steadfastly at the ground and Iruka felt a maniacal smile come onto his face. So kind, so fucking kind, looking away and pretending like Iruka wasn't coughing up all his blood.

"I'm ready, Gai-san," Iruka said, not sure if he was trying to be mocking, or kind, or anything other than alive. He lifted up his hands, shaking at the ends of his arms, and Gai leapt to his feet, grabbing Iruka to help him up. Iruka swayed when he reached his feet, eyes trying to fasten onto something past the sudden black in his eyes, and Gai held his elbows, bodily holding him up. Iruka let himself fall forward, head hitting Gai's unmoving shoulder, and breathed slowly, faintly.

"You're too kind," Iruka whispered, suddenly too tired, too sad. "It'll kill you, being this kind." Gai shifted and Iruka moved back, shoulders slumped in defeat. "You're just too kind." After a moment he spoke again, voice even weaker.

“My mother was like you. Kind. She was a jounin, too.” He paused, breathing carefully, catching his breath. He was always out of breath, never got enough air, and he was so tired. “Jounin, they’re not supposed to be nice, it gets them killed.” Another pause. “That’s why I’m a chuunin. I’m too fucking nice.” He spat it out, then stopped, gasping for breath. He was dizzy again, dark spots swimming through his eyes, and he leaned forward against Gai.

“Iruka-sensei,” Gai said, and he sounded unsure. Iruka twisted his fingers in Gai’s sleeves, twisted the fabric into knots around his fingertips.

“I’m tired,” he said, or was he admitting it? He sighed, unsure of himself. “I’m tired,” he repeated.

Gai wrapped an arm around his waist and Iruka let his weight go, let himself slump. “I know,” the jounin said softly, and Iruka closed his eyes, letting himself trust.

!-!-!

Ibiki and Kakashi were still sitting, side by side, at the edge of camp. Ibiki was turning a kunai over in his hands again and again, dragging his fingernails down the sharp edge, and Kakashi was staring at something Ibiki couldn’t see. Ibiki flipped the kunai over, giving an imperceptible wince when the edge caught his skin and nicked it.

He rubbed his thumb against his finger, smearing the blood, and was turning his attention back to the kunai again when the first drop fell. He paused, then glanced over at Kakashi. Kakashi had his head turned up towards the sky, arms wrapped around his legs. Another drop fell, and another, faster now. Ibiki swore, shoving his kunai in his pouch, and scrambled to his feet.

“Kakashi, come on,” he said, holding out a hand. The rain was falling fast now, soaking through Ibiki’s shirt. He shivered, stepping closer to Kakashi. “Come on, Kakashi.”

Kakashi turned his head, looking up at Ibiki. His hair was at odds, some plastered down by the water, some sticking up at angles. He pushed at his hair, hand leaving behind streaks of mud in the silver, and opened his mouth, closing it after a moment. He opened it again, a thoughtful look on his face. “It’s raining,” he said quietly, tilting his head back to look up at the sky.

Ibiki grabbed Kakashi’s hand, hauling him to his feet, and tried not to look at the jounin’s wet face, tried not to wonder if he was crying. “It’s raining,” he agreed, letting go of Kakashi’s hand to grab his elbow. “Let’s go.”

Kakashi began to pull away from Ibiki’s hand, then stopped, letting Ibiki steer him in towards the camp. “I think,” he said, just as quietly as before, “that I’m very fucked up.”

“You’re fine,” Ibiki said, sharper than he meant to say it. He squeezed Kakashi’s elbow quickly, then continued leading the copy-nin through the rain. “You’re fine.”

I did it! Another chapter done! Look, we're not even half-way done yet! .... -_-'