Work Text:
I
Iruka returns from his mission and Naruto knows as soon as he sees him that something is wrong. He’s been waiting for Iruka for twelve days, which is five days more than Iruka promised. When he spoke to Kakashi about it, Kakashi told him not to worry, but Naruto isn’t stupid; he knows when adults are saying one thing and thinking another. God knows, he’s been lied to enough.
But the fact that Iruka is late is not what makes Naruto’s heart race and his legs grow stiff and brittle like old wood. Neither is it that Iruka left with two other chuunin but is escorted back by three grim-faced jounin. Iruka has no visible wounds, no scent of blood, no limp or broken bones.
What scares Naruto is the look that Iruka gives him as their eyes meet. It’s a look that Naruto has never seen before, and one he hopes he will never see again.
II
It takes hours for Iruka to come home. Naruto waits outside his flat, sitting with his back against the front door and fidgeting with anything he has to hand. Coins, a length of string, the thread on a fraying sleeve. He fumbles a kunai and nicks his hand and watches the blood well in the curve between thumb and palm.
When Iruka turns the corner and sees him, he stops. Naruto scrambles to his feet and they both stand there with the distance of the walkway between them. The afternoon is quiet enough that Naruto hears Iruka’s intake of breath and the shaky, measured exhale.
“You didn’t have to wait,” Iruka says.
It’s the first time Naruto has ever felt like Iruka doesn’t want him.
III
Hours pass. The night is still. Iruka doesn’t tell him, and Naruto doesn’t ask.
IV
Naruto has grown up on memories of Iruka. He has built himself with Iruka as his foundations, as his walls and roof and the beams that hold it all together. Recently, in the past few months, he’s built a room around his genin team, but everything else is Iruka because Iruka was all he had.
They both started at the Academy in the same year, when Naruto was six and Iruka – Naruto counts the years on his fingers to work it out – Iruka was eighteen. That seems too young, somehow. Naruto can only remember him as towering, confident, strong. A solid patch of earth to put down roots. He can’t remember if Iruka let him or if he sprouted like a weed.
There was no single moment when they became close, but Naruto has one memory that stands out from all the others. He doesn’t know why. There have been sweeter moments and happier moments, but this is the one he thinks of when he really thinks about Iruka.
He is nine years old and in Iruka’s class. The classroom smells like chalk dust and there is springtime in the sunlight. Iruka has set them an assignment, one of his anonymous essays. The idea is that Iruka gives them a topic and they write whatever they want, and then hand it in without writing their name. The next day, Iruka puts the pile of marked essays (not really marked, they get no grades. A better word would be: understood) face down on the desk, and each student leafs through the papers, turning none over, only seeing the mark each student has made on the back to identify it to themselves. Naruto uses a different mark each week: a cross, three circles, a drawing of a bird he saw by the river.
At first, they all treated it like a joke, but after the first month and a half they stopped showing their essays to their friends and started clutching sheets of paper in small fists, shoving them into bags to hide the red ink of adult handwriting, saving Iruka’s offered words to read in private after class.
Sasuke told him later, in tones filled with scorn, that it was never truly anonymous. Iruka let them think it was so that they would pour their lives onto paper for him, but he recognised their handwriting.
This week, the subject is Family. Everyone else is scribbling, and no one talks. Naruto stares at the blank sheet of paper and feels his face burn hot.
When Iruka comes round to collect their work, Naruto scribbles a sentence in the middle of the page: I don’t have a family.
When Naruto retrieves his paper the next day, Iruka has written: Neither do I.
V
It’s been twenty-four hours since Iruka returned from his mission and Naruto hasn’t left his side. Yet Iruka is avoiding him. They exist in Iruka’s flat together, but Iruka doesn’t speak, and when Naruto enters a room it isn’t long before Iruka leaves with some vague excuse and then never comes back.
It’s the first time in Naruto’s life that he doesn’t know what to say.
He spends half the day building up his courage (and when has he ever needed courage to ask Iruka a question?) and then catches him in the kitchen, where Iruka is standing and staring at nothing, one hand resting on the countertop, the other curled oddly at his throat.
“What happened?” Naruto asks.
Iruka’s hand jerks down. He thinks before he replies.
“The mission went bad.”
Naruto waits. Iruka looks away.
“My teammates were killed. I was taken captive for a few days, until the jounin team rescued me.”
“Did they hurt you?”
Iruka touches his throat again, but his eyes are distant.
“No,” he says (Naruto knows when adults are lying to him). “They didn’t.”
VI
(There is something wrong with Iruka’s throat.)
The days pass, and Naruto stays close because Iruka won’t talk to him and he doesn’t know what else to do. Iruka is pulling away, and Naruto wraps his roots tighter around him in a complex pattern of knots and desperation.
(There is something wrong with Iruka’s throat.)
Naruto is quieter. Even Sasuke and Sakura have noticed, and at first they teased him about it (they don’t know about Iruka. Naruto hasn’t told them) but now they try and make him talk or argue or laugh. Sometimes he does. Sometimes he’s too busy wondering whether Iruka will mind that he burnt the lunch he made (because Iruka forgets to make his own) or if the milk in the fridge goes off today or tomorrow (because Iruka won’t buy more).
(There is something wrong with Iruka’s throat.)
Kakashi takes him aside at the end of their morning training session.
“I can’t fix it unless you tell me what’s wrong.”
Naruto would never have thought to ask for help if Kakashi hadn’t offered.
“Can you fix a person?”
“Sometimes,” Kakashi says. “It depends what’s broken. And whether they want to be fixed.”
Naruto says, “Iruka-sensei,” and stops. He doesn’t know how to talk about it.
There’s a silence, and then Kakashi says, “I heard about his mission. Why don’t you tell me about it?”
But Naruto can’t because he doesn’t know anything, because Iruka won’t tell him anything. So what tumbles out of Naruto’s mouth is the spaces in between. He tells Kakashi about the silence. About how he doesn’t remember the last time Iruka smiled; how Iruka always covers his throat; he tells Kakashi, in different words, that he doesn’t think Iruka loves him anymore.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” Kakashi asks.
Naruto doesn’t know the right answer. He shrugs and looks at the grass between his feet.
“You’re doing a good job,” Kakashi says. “You’re looking after him, and I’m sure he appreciates it, even if he can’t show it right now. I’ll drop by later and check in on you both. What time does Iruka’s last class finish?”
An hour later, an ANBU in a cat mask is rushed into the hospital and Kakashi waits outside the operating theatre and then at the bedside. He forgets about everything else until the next morning when Tenzou opens his eyes.
Naruto doesn’t know this. He shuts himself in his room in Iruka’s flat, and he waits. Kakashi never comes.
VII
Kakashi never comes, but Naruto waits into the night. He’s used to waiting for Kakashi. Eventually he falls asleep, fully dressed and lying on top of the covers, curled into himself.
When he wakes, the room is dark, although he doesn’t remember turning off the light. He moves and feels a blanket slide away from his shoulders. Iruka has been in his room while he slept. Naruto’s throat feels like it’s tearing in two. The relief is violent. It hurts.
A muffled sound comes from behind his bedroom door. Naruto listens, but it doesn’t come again. Maybe he imagined it, or maybe Iruka is still awake. He has no idea what time it is, but it doesn’t matter because the night is timeless.
He opens the bedroom door.
Iruka is huddled on the hallway floor. He’s sitting against the wall opposite Naruto’s doorway, knees drawn up and head drawn down. He’s locked up tight like a fortress.
“Thanks for the blanket,” Naruto says.
Iruka’s fingers clench around his knee.
“Go back to bed.” The words are muffled and quiet.
Naruto doesn’t know how to fix this. When he’s upset, Iruka knows what to say. He holds him close and lets Naruto cry into his shoulder and sometimes, more recently, he kisses Naruto on the forehead. Naruto has seen parents kiss their children this way. It makes him think of his essay (his sentence) on family, and of Iruka’s reply.
“Iruka-sensei, you need to go to bed too.”
That’s what Iruka would do, he would tuck Naruto into bed and sit by his side and stroke his hair until he fell asleep.
Iruka doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move at all.
Naruto doesn’t know what to do.
“If you don’t want to sleep alone,” he tries, “I’ll sleep in your room with you.”
“Go back to bed,” Iruka says. “Naruto, please.”
“Iruka-sensei, please talk to me.”
“I can’t – right now. Go to sleep.”
Naruto takes a step closer. “When you were on your mission –”
“Go away!”
Naruto turns and runs and slams his bedroom door, the shout still ringing in his blood. Iruka has never shouted at him like that before. Not like that.
It takes too long before Iruka quietly opens the door and comes inside. He sits on the side of the bed. Naruto knows he’s been crying too, even though it’s dark and he can’t see Iruka’s face. It’s something about his breathing.
“I’m sorry,” Iruka whispers.
Naruto is huddled under the covers. He lies very still. Iruka sits quietly for a long time.
“I didn’t mean it,” Iruka says. He sounds like he’s still crying, and Naruto wishes he would shut up shut up because he doesn’t know what to do. “I don’t mean any of it. You know I –” His voice catches. Shut up. “I’d do anything for you.”
Naruto doesn’t know the right answer. He doesn’t know the magic words, and it’s not fair because Iruka does, Naruto knows he does, he’s an adult, he has to.
Iruka’s fingers brush his hair and Naruto jerks away. The hand disappears. Naruto wishes he could undo that last second, that one moment of childish anger, because now that he’s lost the chance all he wants is Iruka’s fingers carding through his hair.
“I’m sorry,” Iruka says again, and stands up to leave.
Naruto flings back the duvet and gabbles out, “You can sleep here with me,” which is stupid, he’s so stupid, it’s a single bed, of course Iruka can’t sleep here.
But Iruka sits back down and slides into the bed. It’s a tight fit, but then Iruka’s fingers tremble against his hair again and this time Naruto stays very still so that Iruka won’t leave.
“Thank you,” Iruka whispers.
Eventually, Naruto falls asleep, and when he wakes up, Iruka’s still there.
VIII
In the morning, Naruto doesn’t go to training. He doesn’t mean to skip it, but by the time he remembers, he’s two hours late, and although this might mean that Kakashi’s only just turned up, Naruto decides not to go. He doesn’t want to, not when Iruka is speaking to him today.
Iruka makes them lunch, slowly, as though he’s half forgotten how, and they eat together at the breakfast bar.
“I’ve taken a couple more days off work,” he says as he clears the plates away. “I need some space to think.”
Naruto is glad. He worries about Iruka when they’re apart.
“Naruto,” Iruka says, and then pauses. He stands by the sink and doesn’t look at Naruto, who’s perched on a stool. “About last night.”
“It’s OK,” Naruto says at once.
“It’s not OK. I should never have yelled at you. And I wish I could promise I won’t do it again, but I don’t think I can.”
Naruto has never been good at silence, but he’s learning quickly.
“I don’t want that to happen again,” Iruka says. “But I’m not feeling so good at the moment. Sometimes I feel like I can’t control the things I say and do. I don’t want to hurt you, but I keep doing it every day and I hate it, and I know you hate it too. So I think it would be best if you went home and didn’t see me for a while.”
“No!”
Naruto is on his feet. This is a mistake – if he goes home then who will make sure Iruka eats? Who will make sure the fridge is full and restock the toiletries and do the dishes? Who will clean the house and lock the door at night?
“I have to look after you,” Naruto insists.
Iruka finally looks at him, and Naruto is scared he’ll cry again. The thought of seeing Iruka cry is the scariest thing in the world.
“No,” Iruka says, very quietly. “That isn’t fair. It’s not right. I can’t keep doing this to you.”
He’s not going to back down, Naruto can tell. When Iruka makes a decision, there’s no force on Earth that can change his mind. Naruto wishes he were older so that Iruka couldn’t tell him what to do. He wishes he could make Iruka see, because this isn’t right and it won’t fix anything, isn’t that obvious?
“I don’t want to go,” Naruto tries one last time, but he knows the battle is lost.
“You have to,” Iruka says.
IX
Kakashi comes around in the afternoon. Naruto is sitting on an outside walkway around the next apartment block, which gives him a view into Iruka’s lounge and kitchen. For the last two hours, Iruka has been curled up on the couch, staring at nothing, but he starts when the doorbell rings.
He’s out of view for a moment, and then comes back with Kakashi in tow. Even from a distance, Naruto can tell that Iruka is tense. He uses his hands too much when he talks and he keeps a few feet of distance between them. Kakashi steps closer and rests a hand on his arm and Naruto wishes he could hear what they’re saying, because he needs to learn those magic words that fix people.
They both sit down on the couch, and watching isn’t enough. Naruto races down the stairwell and then back into Iruka’s building and up. He pauses on the walkway to catch his breath, and then tries the front door. It’s open (Iruka forgets to lock it, that’s why he needs Naruto there), and Naruto quietly slips inside and closes the door behind him.
The living space in Iruka’s flat is open plan, and Naruto sinks to his knees and crawls through the short hallway and into the kitchen. Here, he can duck out of sight behind the counter and be feet away from where Iruka and Kakashi sit in the lounge. He can’t see them – doesn’t dare poke his head around the corner – but he hears them clear as day.
“There are methods of torture that don’t leave a mark,” Kakashi is saying. Naruto stops breathing.
“They didn’t torture me,” Iruka insists. “The jounin team arrived before they did anything to me.”
There’s a brief silence.
“Iruka, if the enemy took information from you and you’re lying about it –”
“I’m not lying! I wouldn’t lie about that. They wanted to know about Naruto.”
Kakashi answers, but Naruto isn’t listening anymore. The words wash over him, but he’s still stuck on what Iruka said. Someone hurt Iruka because they wanted to know about Naruto. They hurt Iruka because of him.
He doesn’t realise he’s crying until the two voices go quiet and he hears his own breath coming in small, wet gasps. Then there are quick footsteps, and he looks up, and Iruka is there.
“What are you doing here?” Iruka asks. He looks wretched. “Naruto, I asked you to leave.”
“It was my fault, wasn’t it?” Naruto asks. “Those bad guys hurt you and it was my fault. That’s why you want me to go away.”
“No!” Iruka kneels down and scoops Naruto into his arms. And Naruto knows suddenly that this is all he’s wanted since Iruka came home. Not the hug so much as the fierceness behind it. Iruka holds him tight against his chest as though he’ll never let go, as though he’ll protect him from the whole world. As though he’ll take a thousand shuriken in the back, a thousand missions gone bad, and Naruto doesn’t want those things to happen to Iruka ever again, but he needs to know that Iruka still loves him because nobody else does.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Iruka says, and Naruto clings to him. “I will never, ever let anyone hurt you. Not even me.”
Naruto doesn’t know what that means because Iruka hasn’t hurt him, would never hurt him, but he doesn’t care because Iruka kisses the top of his head with that same fierceness, and for the first time Naruto thinks that everything is going to be all right.
X
Naruto spends the next night in his own apartment. It’s hard, and he lies awake for a long time fretting that Iruka needs him. He almost gets out of bed and runs across town to check on him, but Kakashi made him promise he wouldn’t, so he restrains himself. Kakashi made a promise too, the day before when he’d walked Naruto home.
“We can visit him every day,” he says. “I’ll come with you, OK? And I’ll get him some help. Proper help.”
“I can help Iruka-sensei,” Naruto mutters. “If he’d just let me.”
“Of course you can,” Kakashi says. “But you don’t have to do it by yourself. You’re not failing him if you can’t fix this on your own, Naruto. You know that, right?”
Naruto hasn’t thought about it before. He’s been carrying the weight of Iruka’s pain around in his chest, but it feels easier suddenly, as though Kakashi’s taken on some of the burden too.
“Are you going to help me fix him?” he asks.
Kakashi nods. “We’ll fix him together. I promise.”
Naruto doesn’t feel light, but his lungs are no longer crushed in his chest. He can breathe again.
XI
Iruka is seeing a doctor now. A psychologist. Naruto conjures up images of ink blots and hypnotism, but Iruka says it isn’t like that. They just sit in a room for an hour and talk.
“About what?” Naruto asks.
“A lot of things.”
“Do you talk about me?”
“Sometimes.”
Naruto doesn’t ask any more because he’s grateful that Iruka’s telling him this much and he doesn’t want to ruin it. He’s been sleeping in his own bed, but every day after training Kakashi brings him over to visit and the three of them have lunch together. Naruto thinks that Kakashi comes back later in the day and they talk together in private. At first he was jealous, but then he discovered that if he comes over by himself, Iruka will still let him in as long as Naruto doesn’t try to fuss over him.
“Kakashi has been looking after me,” Iruka says, “so you don’t need to.”
“I was looking after you first,” Naruto says, but not because he’s jealous, not really. There’s another lightening of that load in his chest, and that’s why he protests, because he feels guilty about it. He shouldn’t be relieved that someone else is making sure Iruka eats and sleeps and goes to his therapy sessions. But he is.
“And you were doing a great job,” Iruka says, looking down at the mug of tea in his hands. “But you’re very young, Naruto. I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”
“Are you going to get better now?” Naruto asks. “Now you have me and Kakashi-sensei and the psychologist?”
Iruka touches a hand to his throat. He doesn’t do that so often these days.
“Yes,” he says, and he doesn’t sound sure, but he doesn’t sound like he’s lying.
It’s good enough for now.
XII
A week goes by. Iruka goes back to work, but Naruto still sees him every day. He waits at the Academy gates with Kakashi and they walk Iruka home and come inside for tea and snacks. Iruka still looks like he isn’t sleeping well, but he has more energy. He speaks in longer sentences, he remembers more often than not to buy fresh food and lock his door. He doesn’t laugh but he doesn’t cry. He has reached a tenuous balance.
On Saturday morning, Team Seven are halfway through a training exercise when Kakashi claps his hands.
“Let’s finish early today,” he says.
Naruto starts to ask why, but as he looks up he sees Iruka standing some way behind Kakashi, hanging back nervously at the edge of the training field and watching them. It’s the first time Iruka has sought him out since before the bad mission (or has he come to seek Kakashi out? But no, it’s Naruto he raises a hand to when he sees him looking. Iruka has braved the outside world to see him).
“Iruka-sensei!”
Naruto rushes over to him, and Iruka fiddles with a strand of hair that’s come free from his ponytail.
“Am I interrupting?”
“No, we just finished.”
Iruka’s eyes flick back to the training ground.
“You’ve come a long way since I last saw you practising,” he says. “I should come to watch you more often.”
Naruto’s chest puffs out with pride. He can’t help it.
“You can come any time you want. I’m so much better than Sasuke now, you just watch and I’ll show you.”
But before he can show off his new moves, Iruka rests a hand on his shoulder.
“Maybe next time. I thought we could go for a walk together.”
Naruto half turns towards Kakashi, but Iruka shakes his head.
“Just the two of us.”
They walk aimlessly together through the training fields, heading vaguely away from the village and into quieter grounds. There are other shinobi around, but Iruka gives them a wide berth and nobody bothers them. For the first time in weeks, Naruto notices the spring blossoms on the trees and the blueness of the sky. He’s been out here every day, but only now, with Iruka by his side, does he taste the freshness of the air. He breathes it in deep and holds it in his core.
“I want to tell you what happened to me,” Iruka says. It comes out quickly and quietly, and Naruto holds another breath. “On the mission.”
Naruto doesn’t rush him. He’s learnt that sometimes it’s better to take things slow.
Iruka doesn’t look at him as he talks. He keeps his eyes on the mountain at the edge of the village and the faces carved into the stone.
“There were only two of them, but they were jounin,” Iruka says. “They killed my teammates and they captured me.”
This much Naruto already knows. He sticks very close to Iruka’s side, not touching but close enough to touch.
“They asked me questions about you,” Iruka carries on. “About the kyuubi. The village. A lot of things. But I didn’t tell them anything.”
“I know,” Naruto says.
Iruka raises a hand to his throat. He rubs the smooth, unblemished skin as though he expects to find a scar, but there’s nothing there. The skin looks the same as it always has, but Naruto knows that all of Iruka’s fears and nightmares and memories lie in that small expanse of flesh.
“Iruka-sensei,” he says, softly, so softly, “what happened to your throat?”
Iruka’s hand stills. He lowers it, and Naruto doesn’t think he knows that he constantly touches that spot. It takes a long time for Iruka to answer. He keeps wetting his lips with his tongue, as though he’s about to start speaking, but then the silence stretches as he rearranges the words again and again in his head.
“It was a genjutsu,” he eventually says. He still isn’t looking at Naruto, but Naruto watches his face. Sees how much effort goes into every word. “Every time I wouldn’t answer, he made me think he was slitting my throat.”
Something tugs all that clean, spring air out of Naruto’s lungs. His chest is empty but heavier than when it was full. He wishes he didn’t know, and he wishes he’d known sooner, and he wishes this had never happened, never ever, because Iruka doesn’t deserve this.
He makes a small, pained noise, and Iruka looks at him then.
“He never hurt me,” Iruka says, fast as though the words burn his mouth. “It was just an illusion. It wasn’t real. It was – but I –” He stops and rubs a hand over his face. Takes a shaky breath. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Naruto wishes he’d asked Kakashi what the magic words are that make people better, but he’s starting to think that maybe there aren’t any magic words after all. If Kakashi hasn’t made Iruka better, and the psychologist hasn’t made Iruka better, then maybe nobody knows what the secret is. Maybe it isn’t about the right words after all. Maybe it’s about being the right person, and being there at the right time, and then maybe, just maybe, anything he says will be the right thing as long as he says it with love.
“Iruka-sensei, I don’t know anything about being captured or being hurt like that,” Naruto says. “But I know about having bad dreams. I have lots of scary dreams. Sometimes I dream about this huge monster with claws and teeth – its teeth are as long as my arm! I try to hide, but it always finds me. So I run away, but it’s faster than me so it always catches me. And then it eats me.”
He pauses, but Iruka doesn’t interrupt. Iruka is watching him closely. Listening.
“It feels so real,” Naruto says. “Even when I wake up, my heart is pounding and I’m all gross and sweaty. I know it’s just a dream and it can’t hurt me, but that doesn’t make it any less scary. Sometimes I’m so scared I think I’m going to puke.” He hesitates again. “Is that what the genjutsu feels like?”
Slowly, Iruka nods.
“In the middle of the night, bad dreams are scary even when you’re awake,” Naruto says. “Sometimes I can’t get back to sleep at all, but I always feel better when the sun comes up.”
Iruka half-raises a hand to his throat but then checks himself. He’s never done that before.
“That’s how I feel right now,” he says. “Like I’m lying awake in the middle of the night and waiting for the sun to rise.”
“It always does, Iruka-sensei,” Naruto says. He may not understand everything, but he knows this much for sure. “Even when the night lasts for years and years, the daylight always comes.”
XIII
There’s something important that Naruto wants to tell Iruka. He’s been cradling the words inside himself for a long time, since they weren’t even words at all. It started as a feeling, new and budding in his chest, and even before he knew its name he knew to cherish it. The words came to him sometime after Iruka threw himself into the path of a fuuma shuriken for him, after he gave Naruto his own headband and explained to him what the symbol on his stomach meant. For a while it was enough to keep the words inside himself, but now he wants to give voice to them. He just doesn’t know how to do it.
Time passes slowly. Spring is giving way lazily to summer. The days are getting long, and Naruto spends his evenings outside with Iruka. They sit together in the Academy training field, empty once classes are over for the day, sometimes with Kakashi, sometimes without him. Naruto shows Iruka what he’s been learning, and Iruka teaches him new tricks, sets him practising and then marks essays and tests. They’re learning to be normal again.
There are still days when Iruka goes straight home from school and won’t answer the door if Naruto knocks. There are still days when his eyes are bloodshot and he can’t concentrate on what Naruto’s saying because there are memories shouting inside his head. But he’s still talking to the psychologist, and he tells Naruto bits and pieces of what they discuss. Kakashi still visits him too, and Naruto feels rather proud that Iruka has made a new friend. His teachers are good for each other.
Today is one of Iruka’s better days. They’re sitting under the shade of a camellia tree and eating their way through a box of mochi, their fingers sticky, a bottle of fruit-flavoured green tea propped in the grass before each of them. Honeybees hum somewhere near but out of sight, and white clouds scud through the sky above, chasing the sun. The breeze tickles the hairs at the back of Naruto’s neck, and it feels good.
“I was thinking,” Iruka says. “This weekend we should go out and do something. Get out in the sunshine. Maybe, if we’re both feeling up to it, we could take a walk up the mountain. It’s been a long time since I went up there.”
Naruto picks up a piece of mochi and squeezes it between his fingers.
“I’d like that,” he says. “But if you’re having a bad day then I’ll bring you ice cream and we can eat it in your apartment.”
“Thank you. That can be the back-up plan.”
Naruto pops the mochi into his mouth and wipes his fingers on his shirt.
“Oh, Naruto, don’t do that! This is why you never have anything clean to wear.”
“Sorry, Iruka-sensei.”
“And don’t talk with your mouth full!”
Iruka scolds him some more, in that fond, exasperated way that Naruto knows so well. It’s so wonderfully normal, something that has been missing for weeks and now slips back, almost unnoticed, into their life. Something blood-deep, bone-deep, a rhythm between two people who know each other as only family can.
“Iruka-sensei?” Naruto says, and Iruka looks up from where he’s wiping Naruto’s sticky fingers on the hem of his own shirt so that Naruto’s will stay clean.
There’s nothing special about this moment, nothing that should make his heart feel so big and bright, and yet suddenly Naruto knows that he’s ready to let those secret words come tumbling out.
“Iruka-sensei, I love you,” he says.
And for the first time in a very long while, Iruka smiles.