Drabble: Iruka was something else
A drabble: Inspired by Kiki's writing style, and because I wanted to try and writes something like her stuff. Only I think I didn't quite manage, and the style was all clunky. :( Kiki is fantastic, and can write stuff off the top of her head, I had to go back and edit this to fix up the language.
I still credit it to Kiki and her inspiring writing, and her wonderful Hayate on Scarlet Spiral, which inspired me to write this.
I also dedicate this to Kiki, and hope it doesn't suck too much.
Iruka was Something else
Iruka was something else entirely. Bright, in the way the moon's shadows were bright on the horizon. Loud, in the way the morning birds sang soft and alone in the haze before dawn.
Hayate watched. Sometimes. Watched and wondered.
Because they were the same age - he'd checked - and weren't they supposed to be the same?
But Hayate had graduated at eleven, Iruka at thirteen.And now Hayate was Chuunin, two years, and Iruka was going for the chuunin exams for the second time. So why was he still watching this boy who was bright, in the way a normal person was, who was too loud, and just incredibly different?
Only...
Iruka was in the woods, throwing shuriken, and his style was good, good enough to pass for genin, but painfully inefficient.
And he'd picked up a katana, doing passes with them that pained Hayate to the bones, because they were wrong, and he couldn't stop himself from dropping down from the trees and saying, "Not like that, like this."
And Iruka only said, "I was wondering when you'd come out."
And now they are fifteen, Hayate has been jounin a year and Iruka chuunin a month, and now Hayate is tired and bloody, and feels so tired.
And he when walked past his own apartment, he was too tired to notice, and instead finds himself tracing the steps to Iruka's apartment.
And maybe it wasn't a mistake, because when Iruka opens the door, he sees that Iruka's just a little bright, like how the stars are on a dark night, and just a little loud, with the sound of hot tea clinking against the fine china of teacups, like the sound of fabric of a yukata against the upholstery of the sofa as he steers Hayate to sit.
And Iruka says simply, "I was wondering when you'd come."
And kisses him. Soft, bright and just. Right.
Now they are twenty-three. Hayate has been sick with a head cold that was good friends with a persistent cough, for a month now, and while some days he thinks he just wants to die, the medics just laugh and say, he wouldn't die for years yet.
And when he turns up for his patrol, during the chuunin exam, he is surpised to be told that someone had taken his place.
Hayate asks Ibiki who it is, because he can't think of anyone who would want to take his shift.
And he refuses to believe Ibiki had allowed Iruka to take it, because Iruka is still too bright, his laughter too happy, too alive, to be stealthy.
He is still too loud to be anything but cheerfully yelling at his students for painting the Hokage's nose bright red.
But Ibiki refuses to tell him which route Iruka is patrolling, and sends Hayate to the academy to locate Iruka's teaching replacement.
And Hayate is furious to find that he'd been tricked into taking Iruka's group of hellions for target practise, because he was quiet, dark and far too unsure what to do with children. He doesn't have Iruka's set of lungs.
Hayate knows he would be showing Iruka that night how fit he was, and that he didn't need to be babied at all.
So he doesn't believe them when the rumours fly around that a traitor had killed one of their shinobi.
He knows it has to be some other jounin. Not Iruka.
Because Iruka is always a little too bright, too cheerful, too loud.
The crows cawed, and they were jarring in the silence that was unnatural, and it was not Iruka.
Because Iruka hasn't asked when he was coming.
Because Iruka was something else.
I still credit it to Kiki and her inspiring writing, and her wonderful Hayate on Scarlet Spiral, which inspired me to write this.
I also dedicate this to Kiki, and hope it doesn't suck too much.
Iruka was Something else
Iruka was something else entirely. Bright, in the way the moon's shadows were bright on the horizon. Loud, in the way the morning birds sang soft and alone in the haze before dawn.
Hayate watched. Sometimes. Watched and wondered.
Because they were the same age - he'd checked - and weren't they supposed to be the same?
But Hayate had graduated at eleven, Iruka at thirteen.And now Hayate was Chuunin, two years, and Iruka was going for the chuunin exams for the second time. So why was he still watching this boy who was bright, in the way a normal person was, who was too loud, and just incredibly different?
Only...
Iruka was in the woods, throwing shuriken, and his style was good, good enough to pass for genin, but painfully inefficient.
And he'd picked up a katana, doing passes with them that pained Hayate to the bones, because they were wrong, and he couldn't stop himself from dropping down from the trees and saying, "Not like that, like this."
And Iruka only said, "I was wondering when you'd come out."
And now they are fifteen, Hayate has been jounin a year and Iruka chuunin a month, and now Hayate is tired and bloody, and feels so tired.
And he when walked past his own apartment, he was too tired to notice, and instead finds himself tracing the steps to Iruka's apartment.
And maybe it wasn't a mistake, because when Iruka opens the door, he sees that Iruka's just a little bright, like how the stars are on a dark night, and just a little loud, with the sound of hot tea clinking against the fine china of teacups, like the sound of fabric of a yukata against the upholstery of the sofa as he steers Hayate to sit.
And Iruka says simply, "I was wondering when you'd come."
And kisses him. Soft, bright and just. Right.
Now they are twenty-three. Hayate has been sick with a head cold that was good friends with a persistent cough, for a month now, and while some days he thinks he just wants to die, the medics just laugh and say, he wouldn't die for years yet.
And when he turns up for his patrol, during the chuunin exam, he is surpised to be told that someone had taken his place.
Hayate asks Ibiki who it is, because he can't think of anyone who would want to take his shift.
And he refuses to believe Ibiki had allowed Iruka to take it, because Iruka is still too bright, his laughter too happy, too alive, to be stealthy.
He is still too loud to be anything but cheerfully yelling at his students for painting the Hokage's nose bright red.
But Ibiki refuses to tell him which route Iruka is patrolling, and sends Hayate to the academy to locate Iruka's teaching replacement.
And Hayate is furious to find that he'd been tricked into taking Iruka's group of hellions for target practise, because he was quiet, dark and far too unsure what to do with children. He doesn't have Iruka's set of lungs.
Hayate knows he would be showing Iruka that night how fit he was, and that he didn't need to be babied at all.
So he doesn't believe them when the rumours fly around that a traitor had killed one of their shinobi.
He knows it has to be some other jounin. Not Iruka.
Because Iruka is always a little too bright, too cheerful, too loud.
The crows cawed, and they were jarring in the silence that was unnatural, and it was not Iruka.
Because Iruka hasn't asked when he was coming.
Because Iruka was something else.