(no subject)
Characters: Naruto and Iruka
Setting: The orphanage, Konoha...they're on the move!
Rating: G
Warnings: None!
Summary: A quickie, showing a bit of the relationship between Naruto and Iruka.
caught...'>
It was a nice day...a great day, actually. Iruka would have loved to take some of the children out on a walk. It wasn't often that they got to go out, but the Akatsuki hadn't been quite as active as of late, and it was warm, with only a few clouds in the sky. Really a perfect day.
But here Iruka was, in his "office" in the stone-walled orphanage, staring down a young blond boy. He knew him well, unfortunately, and found himself bailing him out of a sticky situation. It was only luck that had him at the marketplace, where he was able to pay for something the boy had gotten caught trying to steal. Granted, he rarely got caught-- not that Iruka kept an eye on him 24/7 but seeing as he was still alive, that was the assumption.
In times like these he wasn't sure what to say. He had already given him the standard speech: why do you do these things? Why don't you try to find work somewhere? I can't always take care of you. But he also knew that not everyone was as lucky as him, to be graced with so many positive, helpful people in his life, and he was sure that the younger boy's reputation had preceded him. And he did have determination, which reminded Iruka of himself as a child...but he didn't get to where he was by stealing. But something kept him from completely resenting the boy, and whatever it was relegated him to a disappointed sigh.
The large office of the orphanage was almost eerily quiet for once, and Naruto shifted uncomfortably as he stood in front of his pseudo-parent figure. He'd made the mistake of being too bold and was nearly caught, a relative rarity these days, and both luckily and unluckily, he'd gotten bailed out. As Iruka let out a disappointed sigh, Naruto flinched and decided it was more unlucky. Shuffling his feet, he looked up, shame visible on his face.
"So, uh...that was pretty wild, huh?" he started, cracking a weak smile. Humor was always his first line of defense in any situation. "I thought that guy was gonna cut my hand off, jeez! Someone needs to tell him to switch off the coffee...right?"
A troublemaker, a joker, and so many other things, but Iruka couldn't deny him a small chuckle. The guy in the market had flown off the handle a bit, as Iruka had seen the whole thing go down. In retrospect, since no one was hurt, it was a little amusing. Even when he got angry at the boy, he couldn't stay angry for long. Stepping around the desk to stand directly in front of the boy, he put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a bit of a grin.
"Listen...just don't get caught again, okay? Now, how about you come with me to the Akimichis? I need to pick something up there, and we can have lunch." His money situation wasn't the best, but he knew Naruto had even less spare change, and so he quickly appended his offer. "My treat."
Long had he been on the street, and so when Iruka approached, hand raised, he almost flinched again. It was trained into him to pull away from anyone, even one so kindly as Iruka. But the urge went resisted, and he was grateful for the contact, the gesture holding some semblance of familial ties. He had to thank Iruka for taking him in, if only for the bond that had managed to form between them, closest thing to family he'd even have.
And at the mention of lunch, Naruto's eyes practically fell out of his head as he snapped up to stare at Iruka. Slowly, a smile split across his face. "Do you mean it?" he gasped, enthusiasm dripping from every word. "Aw, that'd be great, Iruka, thanks! I promise, I'll stay out of trouble best I can, honest!"
Iruka returned the boy's excitement in his own grin...that was what he always said, and each time he would find another way to get into trouble. It couldn't be helped, he supposed, and Naruto's intentions were...mostly good.
Iruka led the way, knowing the streets well, but he couldn't go silent for long. He knew that Naruto would invariably speak up, start going on about this, that or the other thing, which he normally didn't mind, but something was bugging him. He hated to get serious, but...
"Naruto...what are you going to do with yourself? You can't keep on like this forever."
Naruto had been enjoying the nice, quiet walk. It was a fair, warm day and perfect for walking along, and so he took the opportunity in stride. But then Iruka had to bring something like that, and he bit his lip and looked away, mood instantly going chilly despite the warmth the sun provided. It wasn't like he even had an answer for something like that, not yet.
"It's worked for the last 10 years of my life, hasn't it?" he shot back, defensive even though he hadn't wanted to be. It wasn't Iruka's fault, necessarily, but that didn't stop him from sounding snappy. "I've gotten by, haven't I? So what does it matter what I do? It's not like anyone wants a dirty street rat like me around, anyway..."
"Naruto..."
Iruka's voice caught in his throat, obscured by a lump. This kid reminded him so much of himself in so many ways, had so much potential to go far. He hated to see such a lack of passion to make a change for the better, and even though he had been trying since he'd know the boy, there had been minimal change.
"You can't live as a thief forever," he said softly, shaking his head. "I know it's worked so far, and that's great, but things don't last forever..."
Gut wrenching screams rang through his mind. Memories he had sought so hard to repress seemed like they had only happened yesterday. He felt tears being to well up in his eyes, but no...this wasn't the time for mourning. What happened, happened, and this was now, and maybe if he could make a better future, it would justify the past.
"There so much more to life, and so much more to you." His feet walked the path for him, he was so familiar with it. "You could really make something of yourself you know. If you'd just...try."
Suddenly a fire sprung up in Naruto's heart, stoked by years of repressed hate and bitterness against the world. He clenched his teeth and clenched his fists, dull nails digging into the flesh of his palm. The flame was echoed in his eyes, even though he didn't dare look at Iruka, because he knew he didn't deserve the hatred in his gaze, even if he couldn't stop the words tearing loose.
"And what should I try, huh?" he growled, and his voice wasn't torn with rage, not yet a typhoon but a cutting cold breeze. "Who's gonna let me work for them? I'm the thief! The dirty rat! No one did me any favors when I was a kid, so I don't see why that'd change!"
It poured out in a stream, slowly gathering force, vitriolic acid spilling forth from his lips. "So what do you suggest, huh? Tell me what I should do! Gimme an option! No one else ever has!"
He hated complaining, hated bitching about the hand that fate dealt him; he was stronger than it, better than it. All the crap he'd been given in life, he just tried his best to overcome or ignore it. But now, now he couldn't help but unleash. It was cleansing, and it was toxic, and it was wrong to throw it all in Iruka's face, but Iruka was left to be an innocent bystander in Naruto's clash against the world. As he finally stopped his speech, he kept his face turned away, not daring to look in Iruka's face, to see the look on his face.
Wrong time to bring up the subject apparently. Iruka felt a twinge of guilt, though. He really shouldn't have gotten on the poor kid's case like that. Sometimes it was difficult to understand that not everyone had his own positive outlook, and that not everyone was lucky to have connections so that he always had someone to watch over him, someone to raise him. He was the closest thing that Naruto had to a father, he reckoned, and even
then he was doing a crappy job of raising him. But Naruto couldn't be pent up in the orphanage like the other kids, and Iruka didn't have a home to bring him to. (He had tried. No one would take the troublemaker in, which was more than understandable given the times...no one wanted a guard knocking at their door in these days, for any reason.)
The emotion that came shooting at him like darts was no surprise, then. He had provoked this and he would take it. He couldn't get mad, not when he had criticized all the boy had to his name-- his ability. "I...I'm sorry, I just don't know. I know you're trying, I'm just...I feel like you're my responsibility, and I want you to go far in life, and not have to live with this life, this reputation, forever. You have skills far beyond that of many, and where they come from I don't know, but some of thing you do surpass even those who have trained for years. You could put that to good use, you know."
Put it to good use by assisting the Rebellion. He knew about them. He would love to help them. But his skills weren't up to par, not in his eyes at least...and the children, they relied on him now. He wondered why Naruto never hooked up with them. They seemed to take people like him in, from what he heard through the grapevine. But of course, you never knew who was a snitch and discussing it out loud, especially in a crowded street...
There was hurt in his voice, shame, and it wounded Naruto to the core. Iruka had never been anything but kind to him, the only person who'd cared about him for years, and yet this was how he repaid him; with bitter words he didn't deserve, and a furious tirade he'd unwittingly stood in the way of. It snapped him out of his sudden descent into hatred, and he looked over slowly, shame on his face as well.
"I'm...sorry, too," he said softly. "But don't feel like you're responsible for me. I'm the one to blame whenever I screw up, or for what eventually happens to me. And as for talent, well..." he barked out a laugh. "I dunno at all about that. I mean, I guess I'm pretty good in a scrap, or picking, but that's about it. What can I do with that?"
But the Rebellion wasn't yet on Naruto's mind, something he'd heard of and agreed with but never considered joining, because he was no soldier! He was a brawler, a thief, but no kind of warrior. It had been dismissed as an opportunity before it had ever really been acknowledged as one. Some day, that might change, but today was not quite that day.
"You're a lot more talented than you give yourself credit for, and there's a lot you can do a lot with that," Iruka started but failed to think of anything to offer up, besides those things that he couldn't mention in public, and his words trailed off as he realized this. He remembered days when there would be tons of outlets for those kinds of skills. Such opportunities were no more, and other than the Rebellion group and private mercenaries, there wasn't a lot out there.
"But hey, you're going to do your best, right? Right." It wasn't a question meant to be answered, and more a statement meant to change off the uncomfortable topic. "So...what do you think you're gonna have for lunch?"
"Th...Thanks, Iruka," he said softly, eyes downcast. He realized he was still clenching his fists, dull ache shooting up through his palms from the pressure of his nails, and he slowly let them unclench again. There was a well of regret inside him for his outburst, and he knew he'd have to do something to make it up to Iruka in the future. Maybe he could paint, or offer to take care of the kids more, or...
The train of thought was cut off, though, and he turned up to stare at Iruka quizzically for a moment, before breaking into a broad grin. And before Iruka could even begin to understand the true weight of his words, he began to tear into a long tirade about all the wonderful food options the Blue Butterfly had to offer.
Once again, wrong question to ask. But Iruka endured it, listening to Naruto ramble on and on, partially spacing out-- because really, the boy was more descriptive than the menu itself-- until he noticed the familiar structure in the distance. Had he really talked that long about food? Iruka mentally added that to the list of the boy's talents with a bit of an inward chuckle.
If he knew Naruto, and he ventured to believe he did at least a little bit, he knew that as soon as the rant was over, he would more than likely bolt for the door, getting a head start like always. Iruka would head him off this time, and a goofy, playful look over.
"Hey...you wanna race to the door?"
He stopped in mid-sentence, having just been worshipping the deliciously lean mutton they served, and turned to give Iruka smirk that could only be accurately described as evil. In a moment, he was tensing to sprint, pausing for the briefest of moments as he chuckled out a devilish, "You're on."
And then he was off, sprinting down the lane towards the Blue Butterfly and leaving Iruka to eat his dust. Pssh, like he could ever catch up with Uzumaki Naruto, Master Thief and King of the Streets. "See you at the door!" he shouted back, letting out a whoop of laughter.
It was foolish of Iruka to think that, even with a head start, he could have outrun Naruto but still...he could dream. But as the boy took off, it was obvious that there was no contest. He was a bit out of shape, at least relatively so, yet he still put up his best effort, arriving at the entrance to the inn long after Naruto and gasping for breath. And yet there was a still a goofy smile on his face as he inwardly vowed to defeat the boy in a race someday.
The two entered together-- Naruto, of course, seating himself and ordering as quickly and as much as possible-- and Iruka basked in the comfort that the place radiated. There was something about it, and a look around the room provided him with familiar friendly faces. There were many strangers, most of whom weren't so friendly looking, of course, but something floated about the room, something that felt like home, comfortable, support, all sorts of intangible things. He was a little too sentimental for his own good sometimes, with thoughts like that, but it was what kept him going, for better or for worse.
He took a seat adjacent from Naruto, and put in his own order after the ravenous teen had put in for more food than he should have been able to eat. For now, things seemed content. Things would return to normal-- and it was sad that such depressing days were normal-- maybe the next day, maybe in a few days, but invariably back to the drudgery of trying to get through one day and into the next, only to repeat the process. Survival was key. And the rowdy blond in front of him was more than adept at that, as time had so far proven. He probably could have worked his way out of the situation earlier that day. And even on the darkest days, the glint in those blue eyes was reassurance enough that nothing
lasts forever.