-o-o-o-o-o-

Someone was shaking him. Iruka rolled, ignoring them and trying to slip back into sleep. He felt like he hadn’t slept in weeks. The shaking didn’t go away, and a voice slowly filtered through the fog of his mind. “Come on, Sensei. You have to get up now, I let you sleep as late as I could. It’s past seven thirty, you have class.”

Those words broke through quite clearly and Iruka threw his thin blanket aside, sitting up almost fast enough that he collided with the nurse trying to wake him. Frantic, he looked around for a clock, confirming the woman’s words. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner!” he yelled, accusatory. “I still have to go home and get my things, a change of clothes-“

“I have everything you need, Sensei.” Iruka turned to the young blonde. She was holding up a pair of clean pants and his school satchel in one hand, a fluffy towel he recognized from his own bathroom in the other.

But it was seven forty! Iruka snatched the towel away, darting into the attached bathroom and turning on the shower. He stepped into the water before it was even warm, scrubbing away the dirt and blood. They hadn’t brought his bath things; Iruka groaned, he was going to smell like antiseptic and hospital all day! He debated leaving his hair to save time, but after running a clean wet hand through it and coming back with muddy fingers, he dumped the sterile, generic shampoo onto his head. Rinsing the last of the bubbles away, he shut off the water and stepped onto the cold tile of the floor.

The teacher ran the towel over his body quickly, already moving into the main room again without a thought to modesty. He saw the nurse blush as he dug through his things and began dressing, but he noticed she didn’t look away. Draping the towel over his hair and rubbing with one hand, Iruka dug through his bag with the other to make sure he actually did have everything he needed for the day. Or, everything except a lesson plan since he hadn’t had time to make any for this week.

Standing, he ducked into the bathroom, grabbing his vest. “What room is Kakashi in?” he called back through the door. He dropped the towel on the floor, making a note to apologize to the cleaning staff later, and turned back to the nurse. She was frowning as if confused by the question. Iruka struggled not to pull at his hair in frustration. “What room?” he asked again. When she still said nothing, Iruka glared at her. “I am not leaving without seeing him. Not after the week I’ve had, tell me his room number!”

“213,” she muttered. “But he’ll be asleep, Sensei.” Iruka didn’t care, a final check that he had everything and he darted out the door. “Sensei! Other way!” Iruka growled again, seamlessly turning and swiftly going the other way down the hall.

He found the room quickly and paused outside, not opening the door. He took a deep breath and let his chakra flow into the room first. He needed to know Kakashi was really there before he looked at him.

The door slid open silently, revealing the pristine white room. Though pristine didn’t seem right, more like sterile, none of the niceties of pristine associated here. Kakashi was indeed unconscious, sleeping quietly on the bed. He still had no mask and the enemy hitai-ate was absent, leaving his pale face completely bared. His left arm was secured in place by several braces and held across his chest in a sling to let it heal. His other hand was tightly bandaged as well and various wires and tubes ran into his elbow and under his shirt, some clear, others red with blood.

They’d brought his dog, Iruka noticed. The little golden pup was curled by the pale man’s side, pressed between his body and his arm, also asleep. Iruka stood quietly for a moment, not moving from the doorway. He just stared, watching the slim chest move up and down slowly and listening to the quiet beeps of machines. Silently, the teacher stepped back and closed the door, turning to walk to his class.

He was several minutes late, and havoc, accordingly, had broken out. Konohamaru was standing on Udon’s back, trying to jimmy the weapons cabinet open. Akiko and Midori were quite enjoying burying another student in paper and books, while Moeta was trying to force open the locked drawers of Iruka’s desk. When the teacher entered, several students darted back to their seats – Konohamaru fell as Udon hurried to stand back up. Iruka waited silently until the rest of the class settled and then set down his bag, leaning against the front of his desk to watch the children.

“Clear your desks, please.” There was a resounding groan as their punishment was anticipated, but Iruka began speaking again, bringing quiet back to the class. “I want to talk about what it means to be a ninja.” He hesitated, waiting until he had full attention before continuing in a soft voice. “Each one of you in here has the potential to be a strong shinobi or kunoichi. Many of you will make wonderful additions to Konoha’s ninja ranks, but some of you may choose other paths.” Here there were a few muffled protests and Iruka paused again, waiting for silence to return.

“When we think of a ninja, we think of someone strong and brave. We think of thrilling adventures and being able to save people and protect the ones you care about. What we don’t talk about, what no one wants to even admit, is the danger. No matter how strong and brave and careful you are, sometimes, ninja don’t come back from their missions.” Iruka stopped again, knowing full well what the response to that would be.

Right on cue, Konohamaru stood, hands on his desk. “But if we’re the strongest we can be safe!”

Moegi nodded her agreement. “Konoha has the best ninja in the whole world. If we train hard and try our best, we’ll be fine!”

Ripples of agreement were going through the whole room, but Iruka shook his head gently. “There is no guarantee,” he said and the children quieted again. “No matter how strong you become, no matter how well you train, there is always someone stronger. Maybe you will be the strongest in this village someday, but what about another village? What if you are attacked by more than one person?”

“Then my team will help and protect me,” a little boy in the back said.

“What if you are attacked by one hundred people?”

“That’d never happen!”

“What if you’re alone?” The children quieted again and Iruka ducked his head, looking at the floor. “What if you only have two options: to fight and survive at the cost of someone or something you hold dear, or to die? What if the only way to protect a friend is to be hurt yourself?” Carefully he looked up again, letting the weight of his words filter through his expression and into his students. “There is no guarantee. Ever. Every one of you knows someone who has lost someone important to them. Some of you have lost important people yourselves. Can anyone give me an example?” He smiled slightly, though it was still sad, and waited for the message to sink in.

Slowly, a young girl raised her hand. “You mean like Uncle Raidou?”

Iruka nodded, touching his own face where the other man was scarred. “That’s right. Raidou is a very strong ninja, but he was still hurt once, very badly.”

“My grandpa can’t walk anymore ‘cause of a mission,” another child volunteered.

Midori looked sadly around the room. “My Mama didn’t come back last year.”

Iruka nodded again, pleased and sad at the same time as he saw the understanding spread from face to face. Slowly Moegi raised her hand. “Sasuke-san,” she whispered.

“That’s right,” Iruka confirmed, his smile turning somewhat bitter. “Death is not the only bad thing that can happen to a ninja. Shinobi can be hurt or killed on missions, but they can just be lost, too. Pain can come in lots of different ways. Does everyone remember what happened to the Third Hokage?” Little heads bobbed up and down and Hanabi raised her hand, waiting to be called on, unlike her classmates. “What is it?”

“You, Sensei. You lost your mommy and daddy.”

The truth of it startled his smile away, but Iruka didn’t deny it. “A long time ago, yes. When I wasn’t any older than most of you, my mommy and daddy were taken away. They died to protect this village and they wouldn’t have had it any other way, because that’s what they wanted to do. They wanted to protect Konoha and keep the rest of us safe, even if it meant they couldn’t stay with me.” Iruka’s eyes unfocussed, remembering the Fox attack so long ago. “I’ve lost a lot of people. Friends and family. Students. Someday, though I hope it never happens, I might lose some of you. Someday you might lose me.”

It was surer than that. There was no maybe about it, sooner or later, many of the people in that room would lose their lives on a mission. Iruka knew it, and he could see that knowledge on several of the young faces as well. After another moment he straightened. “I want to take you all to see something. You don’t need to bring anything with you. A field trip, I want you to see the names of the greatest shinobi Konoha has ever seen. Heroes of our village.”

-o-o-o-o-o-

“Kakashi?” The silver haired man made no move, gently stroking the dog beside him. Suppressing an annoyed sigh, Ibiki stepped further into the room, removing the question from his voice and turning it into an order. “Kakashi.”

Slowly the copy nin looked up. “When can I go home?”

The larger man shook his head. “Not yet. Once you’ve recovered some chakra, we can speed your healing and then you can finish recuperating at home.”

Kakashi growled, turning his gaze back to his dog. “Tell them to stop fucking drugging me, it’s giving me a headache.”

“It’s also keeping you in this bed.” Ibiki stepped closer and his voice grew more serious, switching from gruff friend to deadly interrogator. “Tell me what happened.”

Kakashi remained completely relaxed, even shutting his eyes for a few moments. “There were five of them,” he began in his typical drawl. “But after I was captured, I never saw more than three. They were from the Village of White.”

“There were two here, that fits. White, huh?”

Kakashi shrugged his good shoulder. “Well, one was at least. One of the names I got was Adel and I don’t know anywhere else that has names like that. Blank hitai-ates, too, sounds like White to me.” He paused, his hand stilling over the bandages on his dog’s chest and leg.

Ibiki sighed, shifting back to ‘gruff friend’ since Kakashi didn’t react to the other persona anyway. “Little guy’s alive, but unconscious. We still don’t know if he’ll pull through, but we managed to keep both the women. If I find out who hurt your dog, I’ll let you know. If it’s one of them, I’ll give you a minute alone with them.”

Kakashi nodded and turned his eyes back on Ibiki. “Where’s Iruka?”

“Teaching. I haven’t de-briefed him yet. Wanted to get it from you, first.”

With another nod, Kakashi shut his eyes again – it helped a bit with the headache, which actually meant it was his eye and not the sedatives. His chakra really was still dangerously low. “They wanted information for infiltration. I gave proper filing for mission reports, but no other codes or secrets.”

Ibiki nodded, a smile gracing his features. “Knowing that someone would question it if you suddenly turned in a proper report.”

Kakashi nodded. “I gave them a lot, but I let him know what was going on.” For a moment there was silence and then a grunt of agreement and he could feel Ibiki leave for the time being. He opened his eyes and looked down at the sleeping puppy. “I did what I could.”

-o-o-o-o-o-

Kakashi could feel someone at his door, but the sedatives were keeping him in a haze. He blinked in that direction, trying to make out the familiar chakra. The figure took a step forward, stopped. Then it retreated, shutting the door softly. Kakashi tried to stay awake, wanted to know who that had been, but in moments he was asleep again.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Iruka hesitated at the door of the missions’ room, feeling chakra sweep over him in a check. It faded and the teacher looked around for the source, seeing Ibiki stride around the corner. “What are you up to, Sensei?”

Iruka swallowed, suddenly nervous, as if he’d been doing something wrong. “I was just going to see if the missions’ room needed my help.”

“You don’t work the desk much anymore, other chunin are filling the schedule fine right now.”

Iruka took a step away from the door, understanding that Ibiki was really telling him to give up that train of thought. Ibiki walked past the teacher, a silent order to follow as he stalked down the hall. “Ibiki-san?”

“I need to talk with you.” The man led the way to a small, nondescript room and took a seat behind the blank, plain desk. Swallowing nervously, Iruka took his seat in the single chair facing him. “When did you realize something was wrong?”

The teacher frowned, but he’d known this was coming. “Something felt wrong almost immediately. I knew it wasn’t Kakashi Friday morning.”

“And you waited to tell anyone until the next day?”

Iruka looked away. “I told Shikamaru Nara on Friday. I told Sato on Saturday.”

“With a request not to involve anyone else and a refusal to accept his assistance.”

“He would have gotten Kakashi killed!” Iruka bit his lip, trying not to yell at Ibiki. He felt like a naughty schoolchild and he knew he was in trouble. “I thought I still had the situation under control. I was trying to find out what they knew and what they were after.”

“You were failing,” Ibiki stated plainly. Iruka faltered and fell silent as Ibiki continued. “You were trying to find out what happened to Kakashi, and you failed at that as well.”

Iruka looked away, but didn’t deny it. “I tried,” he whispered, wanting to justify his decisions.

Ibiki sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You tried and you failed. You knew you were in trouble, you knew you did not have the necessary skills to resolve the situation, and you refused the help of someone that did have those skills.”

Iruka hung his head slightly, face darkening. Sato had reassured him, as if he agreed with his choices, but Ibiki seemed to feel the exact opposite. Maybe Sato had only been saying that to make Iruka feel better because the situation hadn’t been resolved.

“Sensei.” When Ibiki said the word, it didn’t feel like a title or a form of respect. It was like a curse, obvious disdain in his voice. “You were given the title jounin because of a few skills and that shit with Itsuo and Mizuki.” He said it so plainly that it turned Iruka’s stomach. “I never agreed with Tsunade’s decision, but her bleeding heart combined with power overruled me.”

Iruka felt very small in front of this man and his voice was soft, still trying to defend himself. “I’ve been invited to test in the past.”

“But you never did.”

“Jounin can’t teach at the academy.”

“There are reasons for that,” Ibiki snapped, forcing Iruka into silence. Ibiki took a deep breath and shook his head. “I’ve seen what you can do, Iruka. I’m well aware that some of your skills can equal many jounin. I was the one to nominate you for the jounin test once. But you never took that test, Sensei, and you never went through the additional training required for it. Tsunade gave you the title and the clearance and the missions, but you’re still just a chunin.”

The man sighed, consciously dropping his hands to lower the threat between them. “Look, Sensei. You’re a brilliant teacher and you’re great with kids. A lot of shit has happened to you that you couldn’t control but you’re strong enough to overcome all that. I know for a fact you’re a good fighter, but you simply are not jounin caliber. You need more training. Just like the kids you pass to become genin, not all of them are actually ready. Kami knows Naruto wasn’t. That’s why we give them to jounin, so they can train and get some practical experience and grow into their rank. That’s what you need.”

“Please, Ibiki-san.” Iruka was staring fixedly at the blank desk, struggling not to let it show his hands were shaking. “I don’t want to leave the academy. If that means going back to chunin-“

“We need jounin right now, I won’t demote you.” There was a pause and Ibiki stood suddenly. “I’m not trying to be a bad guy here, Iruka, I just don’t think you’ve earned everything you’ve been given. I’m trying to find the middle ground here, so that when something like this happens again, you won’t fuck it up so badly.”

And something like this would happen again, Iruka heard the silent accusation. It had happened once, it would happen again, it was the nature of things in a ninja village. He’d just spent the entire day trying to get his kids to understand that depressing thought. Iruka blinked as the information replayed in his mind. What he lacked physically, he was well aware he made up with his brains, and Ibiki had already said exactly what he was going to do. The teacher looked up at him, somewhat startled. “You’re giving me a sensei?”

“I’m putting you through ANBU training.” Iruka paled suddenly and had to remind himself to breathe. ‘Real jounin experience and training’ was not the same thing as the violent and deadly sparring sessions that passed for ANBU training. Iruka was more than aware he was no match for the select few who wore those painted masks and he was fairly certain he would never be a candidate for those ranks. Ibiki nodded, seeing that the teacher understood, and continued. “If you were a genin I’d stick you with a jounin for a few months and that would be it. Unfortunately for me, you’re a schoolteacher, so that approach won’t work regardless of rank, I can’t send you out of the village for S class missions to see how it’s done. ANBU train a couple times a week in the evening, you have no schedule conflicts. And come winter break I can put you through the actual trainer courses. Same effect on a much more manageable time table.”

“I-Ibiki-san. I can’t . . . I mean you just said I’m no match for jounin.”

“Don’t worry, everyone will know you and your limitations. The goal here is to train you, not kill you.” He was moving for the door again, not letting Iruka argue. “Do expect a few injuries, though. Sort of unavoidable with that group.”

Iruka felt himself stand, ushered into the hallway again on numb legs. “Ibiki-san-“

“Kakashi may join you for a few, but I’d rather you train alone. And you’ll be given a mask, but with skewed colors to make you more identifiable. Don’t expect to gain ANBU clearance, Sensei, you’ll be blindfolded and led if training ever takes place somewhere you aren’t normally allowed.”

Iruka barely heard him as the man continued to mutter details. He was starting to have doubts to his sanity.

-o-o-o-o-o-