Twelve Days: Day One
Twelve Days: Day One
Title: Dark of the Night
Author: Kita
Prompt: The longest night of the year
Rating: PG
Beta: kiterie
It seldom snows in Fire Country, being more southerly than both Shimo no Kuni, the Land of Frost and Yuki no Kuni, the Land of Snow. But occasionally a wicked storm brews up in the northern mountains and sweeps down into the forests of Fire, bringing with it unusual cold and every so often, snow.
Once in a while, the storm brings with it more than snow.
Midwinter; the day of the solstice.
Iruka turned away from the chalkboard, glancing at the dimming sky beyond the windows. It was too early for the sun to set, even on this, the shortest day of the year. With a brief admonition to his class to behave, he teleported himself to the roof of the academy, atop what had long ago served as a lookout tower.
In the northern sky clouds brewed and roiled, dark enough to block out the pale winter sunlight. A blast of ice-cold wind numbed his fingers and made the exposed skin of his face tingle painfully. The gust carried with it the heavy scent of water, thick and metallic with the tang of ozone.
Iruka knew that scent, having spent over three months on an A-rank mission in the northern wilds of Frost Country, where unpredictable blizzards could whip up seemingly out of nowhere. With a curse that would have shocked his students, he teleported down to the main teacher’s lounge, knowing at least one or two of his fellow sensei’s would be there, courtesy of a free period.
Ayako Nadeshiko-Sensei was pouring herself a cup of coffee when he poofed in. Without spilling a drop, she swiveled to face him, as graceful as a doe. She taught the specialized classes to the female (and rare male) pre-genin, and taught older kunoichi the art of the silent killer, the weapons of seduction. Iruka himself had taken some of her classes years ago. “Iruka-Sensei?” she queried, concern in her ice-blue eyes.
“There’s a storm on the way, a bad one, and with the scent of snow. It looks like it will get here before classes let out.” Iruka stated baldly, sticking his head out the door to see if any of the other teachers might be lurking nearby. Alas, the hall was empty. “And once it gets here...”
He didn’t even have to finish the thought for her. Nadeshiko-Sensei had lived her share of missions in the harsh climes of the north. “I’ll warn the west and north wings; you take the south and east. We’ll want the students and staff safely home before it hits.” In a brief whirl of the flower-petals she took her name from, she vanished, leaving her cup hanging in the air for a second before plummeting to the floor.
Iruka didn’t linger long enough to see it hit the tile. He reappeared in his classroom, deftly catching a stray practice kunai in his left hand and three paper shuriken in right.
Abashed, his current crop of hellions quieted.
“All of you, I’m dismissing class as of this moment. You are to head home immediately. That is an order. Do not stop anywhere; do not wait for friends or siblings. Get yourselves home at once and warn your parents, if they aren’t already aware, that a winter storm is on its way. Understand me?”
Twenty-four heads nodded solemnly, and his students headed for the door, pausing only long enough to gather up their belongings and coats. They knew not to argue with him when he gave them orders like that.
Iruka allowed himself a moment of pride, then he sprinted for the next classroom and repeated his message. Before Ekasu-Sensei could even dismiss his class, Iruka was out the door and headed for the next.
The sky had darkened measurably by the time Iruka had finished with his warnings and he hurried the last straggling students out the doors and into the icy wind. He exchanged grim glances with his fellow teachers and hastened his footsteps in the wake of his students.
A loud warning siren sounded, and on the street around him heads swiveled towards the Hokage’s tower. Faces tightened, and without a word, everyone began heading towards their home with a purpose.
Iruka increased his speed, watching out for any of the children from the academy, but they seemed to have taken the warnings to heart, and were running for home as fast as their short little legs could carry them.
Iruka stopped once to help a young shopkeeper wrestle her heavy storm-shutters closed. By the time they were done, the sky had gone to leaden black and sleet mixed with tiny bits of hail began clattering against the shutters. The shopkeeper ducked inside with a yelp.
Iruka cursed and lengthened his stride into a full-out sprint, shielding his eyes from the stinging ice.
He had just made it to his street and could see the lights of his apartment building shining like a beacon through the icy downpour.
Above the howl of the wind, a high, thin wail made his heart seize in his chest. It sounded like the fearful cry of a child. Instinctively, Iruka turned toward the sound, facing into the full brunt of the snow and ice-laden wind.
The eerie wail rose again and Iruka braced himself against the push of the wind, heading towards the sound.
The snow fell more thickly, turning the world into a swirling maelstrom of white.
Iruka could barely see, and the hiss of the snow drowned out everything but that thin, frightened keen and the harsh, labored rasp of his own breathing.
He stretched out with his chakra, hoping against hope that he could sense the life-force behind the cry.
It felt like an eternity before he could sense anything, but at last there was a weak tickle of chakra, muddled and hard to hold onto.
Pushing as much strength into his numb legs as he could, Iruka shoved through the quickly rising drifts. He could barely feel his own feet and his ears had long ago passed beyond the point of numb and gone right to agonizing.
The sound that had brought him this far had faltered and Iruka reached out desperately with his chakra again.
The drift in front of him erupted, spewing snow and ice into his face. Dark forms boiled out of the snow. Groping for a kunai with numb fingers, Iruka fell back a pace and lost his footing on the ice.
He fell backwards with one of the indiscernible figures colliding heavily with his chest.
Gasping, Iruka clawed snow out of his eyes, trying to see his attacker.
A wrinkled face with drooping eyes was thrust into his.
“Pakkun?”
Title: Dark of the Night
Author: Kita
Prompt: The longest night of the year
Rating: PG
Beta: kiterie
It seldom snows in Fire Country, being more southerly than both Shimo no Kuni, the Land of Frost and Yuki no Kuni, the Land of Snow. But occasionally a wicked storm brews up in the northern mountains and sweeps down into the forests of Fire, bringing with it unusual cold and every so often, snow.
Once in a while, the storm brings with it more than snow.
Midwinter; the day of the solstice.
Iruka turned away from the chalkboard, glancing at the dimming sky beyond the windows. It was too early for the sun to set, even on this, the shortest day of the year. With a brief admonition to his class to behave, he teleported himself to the roof of the academy, atop what had long ago served as a lookout tower.
In the northern sky clouds brewed and roiled, dark enough to block out the pale winter sunlight. A blast of ice-cold wind numbed his fingers and made the exposed skin of his face tingle painfully. The gust carried with it the heavy scent of water, thick and metallic with the tang of ozone.
Iruka knew that scent, having spent over three months on an A-rank mission in the northern wilds of Frost Country, where unpredictable blizzards could whip up seemingly out of nowhere. With a curse that would have shocked his students, he teleported down to the main teacher’s lounge, knowing at least one or two of his fellow sensei’s would be there, courtesy of a free period.
Ayako Nadeshiko-Sensei was pouring herself a cup of coffee when he poofed in. Without spilling a drop, she swiveled to face him, as graceful as a doe. She taught the specialized classes to the female (and rare male) pre-genin, and taught older kunoichi the art of the silent killer, the weapons of seduction. Iruka himself had taken some of her classes years ago. “Iruka-Sensei?” she queried, concern in her ice-blue eyes.
“There’s a storm on the way, a bad one, and with the scent of snow. It looks like it will get here before classes let out.” Iruka stated baldly, sticking his head out the door to see if any of the other teachers might be lurking nearby. Alas, the hall was empty. “And once it gets here...”
He didn’t even have to finish the thought for her. Nadeshiko-Sensei had lived her share of missions in the harsh climes of the north. “I’ll warn the west and north wings; you take the south and east. We’ll want the students and staff safely home before it hits.” In a brief whirl of the flower-petals she took her name from, she vanished, leaving her cup hanging in the air for a second before plummeting to the floor.
Iruka didn’t linger long enough to see it hit the tile. He reappeared in his classroom, deftly catching a stray practice kunai in his left hand and three paper shuriken in right.
Abashed, his current crop of hellions quieted.
“All of you, I’m dismissing class as of this moment. You are to head home immediately. That is an order. Do not stop anywhere; do not wait for friends or siblings. Get yourselves home at once and warn your parents, if they aren’t already aware, that a winter storm is on its way. Understand me?”
Twenty-four heads nodded solemnly, and his students headed for the door, pausing only long enough to gather up their belongings and coats. They knew not to argue with him when he gave them orders like that.
Iruka allowed himself a moment of pride, then he sprinted for the next classroom and repeated his message. Before Ekasu-Sensei could even dismiss his class, Iruka was out the door and headed for the next.
The sky had darkened measurably by the time Iruka had finished with his warnings and he hurried the last straggling students out the doors and into the icy wind. He exchanged grim glances with his fellow teachers and hastened his footsteps in the wake of his students.
A loud warning siren sounded, and on the street around him heads swiveled towards the Hokage’s tower. Faces tightened, and without a word, everyone began heading towards their home with a purpose.
Iruka increased his speed, watching out for any of the children from the academy, but they seemed to have taken the warnings to heart, and were running for home as fast as their short little legs could carry them.
Iruka stopped once to help a young shopkeeper wrestle her heavy storm-shutters closed. By the time they were done, the sky had gone to leaden black and sleet mixed with tiny bits of hail began clattering against the shutters. The shopkeeper ducked inside with a yelp.
Iruka cursed and lengthened his stride into a full-out sprint, shielding his eyes from the stinging ice.
He had just made it to his street and could see the lights of his apartment building shining like a beacon through the icy downpour.
Above the howl of the wind, a high, thin wail made his heart seize in his chest. It sounded like the fearful cry of a child. Instinctively, Iruka turned toward the sound, facing into the full brunt of the snow and ice-laden wind.
The eerie wail rose again and Iruka braced himself against the push of the wind, heading towards the sound.
The snow fell more thickly, turning the world into a swirling maelstrom of white.
Iruka could barely see, and the hiss of the snow drowned out everything but that thin, frightened keen and the harsh, labored rasp of his own breathing.
He stretched out with his chakra, hoping against hope that he could sense the life-force behind the cry.
It felt like an eternity before he could sense anything, but at last there was a weak tickle of chakra, muddled and hard to hold onto.
Pushing as much strength into his numb legs as he could, Iruka shoved through the quickly rising drifts. He could barely feel his own feet and his ears had long ago passed beyond the point of numb and gone right to agonizing.
The sound that had brought him this far had faltered and Iruka reached out desperately with his chakra again.
The drift in front of him erupted, spewing snow and ice into his face. Dark forms boiled out of the snow. Groping for a kunai with numb fingers, Iruka fell back a pace and lost his footing on the ice.
He fell backwards with one of the indiscernible figures colliding heavily with his chest.
Gasping, Iruka clawed snow out of his eyes, trying to see his attacker.
A wrinkled face with drooping eyes was thrust into his.
“Pakkun?”