Chapter Text
Iruka smiled to himself, tossing his small coin purse in the air and catching it, repeating the action twice before slipping it into his pocket. He still hadn’t quite grown accustomed to the weight of coins in his pocket, still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that he actually had money to spend these days. He’d just gotten back from their team’s latest D-rank mission, and had a few hours to himself before the four of them were scheduled for some low-visibility training that evening. Iruka was excited about it, but Itachi had seemed even more neutral about it than most things. Then again, Itachi had been asking Yuuki-sensei about trying a C-rank mission for the past few weeks, and it almost seemed to Iruka as though Yuuki-sensei was passive-aggressively punishing all of them for Itachi’s inability to drop the issue by choosing the most boring D-rank missions he could possibly find. Even Iruka was bored, and he knew if he was bored then Itachi was definitely bored, the kid had an Uchiha Jonin sparring partner for training in his free time. He hoped this low-visibility training meant that Yuuki-sensei was assessing their skills to see if they were finally ready for a C-rank mission. If not, at least it didn’t sound as boring as spending the night in a barn for another D-rank stakeout.
Wandering through the central market street of Konoha, Iruka contemplated purchasing some snacks, but resisted the urge. He was turning thirteen in just over a month and needed to save up enough to put a down payment on an apartment. At the rate things were going, he’d need to start asking Yuuki-sensei for them to go on C-rank missions too, if he wanted to have a roof over his head for his birthday. Humming softly to himself, Iruka sauntered past the market stalls, ignoring the suspicious looks vendors cast his way. He knew better than to bother with them, he’d already figured out who was willing to take his money now that he had it and who was still holding his past indiscretions against him.
He swung down a dark alley, scrambling up a fire escape and making his way to the roof. He waved at an ANBU several streets over, also perched on a rooftop. The ANBU tilted their head ever-so-slightly, like they weren’t sure how to react to a friendly greeting. Iruka figured it was the least he could do. He was familiar with a sizeable portion of the ANBU population at this point, mostly due to the number of stupid stunts he’d pulled over the last two years trying to get someone to notice him. He’d taken to other, less prank-y methods of getting attention these days, but in his heart Iruka still enjoyed surprising people, and ANBU were almost always surprised to be acknowledged, much less greeted warmly. Jogging across the roof, Iruka built up a bit of chakra in his legs, allowing him to easily leap across the alley to the next rooftop, and the next, until he was skidding to a stop on the building across the wide market street from the ANBU in question.
“Hi there, ANBU-san,” he called, waving again. He didn’t get an answer, but he wasn’t expecting one, either. “Have a nice evening!” he added, leaping to the next building, enjoying the way the ANBU’s mask tracked him as he leapt to the next building, and the one after that. A moment later, the ANBU was back to watching the street. Which was fine, Iruka knew they had a job to do. He did enjoy watching the myriad reactions, though. Each ANBU responded a little differently to his greetings. Some stiffened, some nodded, some pointedly looked away, some cocked their heads in curiosity, and some just stared back at him. It didn’t really matter to Iruka what the reaction was, the fact that he sparked a reaction at all was enough for him, most days. Besides, keeping people guessing as to whether he was pulling a prank or just being genuinely friendly brought him a special kind of joy.
ANBU harassment done for the evening, Iruka continued scampering across the rooftops, the large, decrepit structure that was the Konoha orphanage looming in the distance. He didn’t bother entering via the front, choosing instead to walk down the side of the building and slip into his room through his warded window. He quickly pressed a bit of his chakra into the small seal he’d carved into a corner of the wooden frame. It was placed over a knot, and curved in a way that mimicked the shape of the wood itself. He was proud of it, probably more proud than it really deserved, but Iruka took pride in the few things he could take pride in , and this was one of those things.
As soon as he entered his room, he realized something had gone terribly wrong. It was empty. Everything was gone - his small chest with the items salvaged from the ruins of his parents’ home, his small shelf of assorted seals-making supplies that he’d started accumulating over the past few months, even the dirty clothes he hadn’t bothered to launder were no longer scattered across the floor. His bed was bare, his closet empty, everything was gone! Why? Who had done this? As he cast his gaze around the room for a clue, any hint as to where all of his things had gone, he spotted a note lying in the middle of the floor. Iruka scooped it up quickly, a frown tugging at his features as he scanned the message.
Iruka, the note read, please come to the office when you receive this note. Certain behaviors have come to our attention and must be dealt with as soon as you return.
-Naho
Grimacing, Iruka shoved the note in his pocket, wondering what the old bat wanted with him now. Naho was the head of the orphanage. She was a nasty old woman who used to be a Konoha shinobi - one of the two people who worked at the orphanage who was, and the only staff member who’d made it to chunin. He’d never heard why she quit, or why she’d chosen to take up a position at the orphanage, but it sure didn’t seem to Iruka to be her lifelong ambition or a decision driven by anything even remotely sentimental. Of course, Iruka had gotten on her bad side pretty early on, so maybe she really did enjoy her job and she just hated him personally. The more Iruka thought about it the more likely it seemed. He tended to have that effect on people.
With a scowl, Iruka shuffled down the three flights of stairs to the main floor of the orphanage. He headed for the office, only to be pulled aside by Natsuki and Amane, the twins who had first alerted him to the fact that he hadn’t been the only one to have valuables stolen.
“Iruka!” Natsuki exclaimed, grabbing his arm, “You’re back!”
This was obvious, but Iruka resisted the urge to tell her that. She was just a kid, only six years old, she didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of Iruka’s irritation. “Hey Natsuki,” Iruka said, suddenly feeling tired. “What happened to my room?”
“I don’t know,” Natsuki confessed, glancing at Amane. “Do you?”
“I just heard Naho yelling about it yesterday,” Amane said, her gaze fixed on the floorboards. “Sorry, Iruka. I heard they took everything out of your room.”
Iruka sighed. “Yeah, I’m supposed to go see Naho now. Was there something you wanted?”
Natsuki glanced around like she thought they might be overheard. Normally, Iruka found her paranoia amusing. Now he was beginning to wonder if Natsuki didn’t have the right idea. “We found out that three other kids’ things went missing,” she finally said. “Kai, Seiya, and Masaki. But no one lost any more things after your room… issue.”
Iruka leaned forward eagerly. “Did anyone go home after the room incident? Or go to the hospital?”
Natsuki’s face blanched. “Iruka, did you do something dangerous?”
Iruka patted her head in a way he knew from personal experience felt condescending. Which was precisely why he did it to Natsuki. “Nothing permanently damaging,” he assured the kid. “Just something surprising enough that the victim might decide to get checked out.”
Natsuki frowned thoughtfully. “Eriko didn’t show up until an hour after Naho sent for her, but everyone else got here right away.”
Iruka nodded, filing that information away for future consideration. “Thanks for the information. I better go talk to Naho before she gets even more upset,” he said.
“Thanks, Iruka,” Natsuki said.
“Yeah, thanks,” Amane echoed softly.
Iruka nodded, and resumed his trek towards the office. He was not looking forward to this conversation. Before he could even open the door, it swung open to reveal an irritated Naho, scowling down at Iruka. “There you are!” she hissed. “I’ve been waiting for you for over an hour, why didn’t you come right away?”
Iruka didn’t feel like reminding her that he didn’t exactly have a detailed timeline for every single D-rank mission his team undertook, and instead shrugged his shoulders. “I was busy.”
“I’m sure you were,” Naho said in a tone of voice that clearly stated otherwise. “Get in here.”
Iruka followed her into the staff office, pointedly not glancing in the corner of the room where two loose boards could be wiggled up and out of the floor, providing access to a small lockbox where he hoped his mother’s jewelry box was still hidden. Instead, he kept his eyes on the head matron of the orphanage. She was thin, but not the sort of thin that came effortlessly. Naho was the sort of thin that came when one was accustomed to high levels of physical effort in their younger years, but now didn’t exercise or eat enough to maintain the weight and muscle tone of their former lifestyle. She had sharp fingernails that had cut into Iruka’s skin once or twice when she grabbed his arm too hard, and her eyes were sharp too, her gaze nearly as cutting as her words often were.
“What were you thinking, setting something like that around your room?” she demanded, kicking out a chair and staring at Iruka until he sank into it. Once he was seated, she marched around to her desk, seating herself and leaning forward on her forearms to glare at Iruka. “An exploding tag? Do you have any idea how badly someone could have been hurt?”
“It wasn’t an exploding tag,” Iruka protested.
“It exploded, didn’t it?” Naho replied.
“No, if it had exploded my door would be gone!” Iruka snapped.
“So not only did you set a stupid trap in your own room, you’re also incapable of making a functional exploding tag,” Naho spat. “Am I supposed to be happy about that?”
“It wasn’t an exploding tag!” Iruka growled, “It was an itching tag, and you’d have known that if you were there. So who was it that broke into my room?”
“No one broke in, Iruka,” Naho sighed, pinching the bridge of her bony nose as if to ward off an impending headache. “Eriko was making the rounds, and she was checking to make sure your room was clean.”
Iruka frowned. “Since when does Eriko do rounds?” he challenged. So Eriko had been the one to set off the tag, after all. She wasn’t one of the former shinobi, so it made sense that she wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between an exploding tag and one of his modifications. But that wasn’t enough to prove that she was the one stealing. And he still needed to get his stuff back. “And where is all my stuff?”
“We had to clean out your room because of the smoke,” Naho said, “And your window was stuck, so we had to clear out half the floor to allow the smoke to dissipate.”
Iruka blinked at that, a little surprised. “The window isn’t stuck,” he said. “It’s warded.”
Naho’s eyes narrowed. “I think I would have noticed a ward,” she spat. “But if that’s what you tell yourself, far be it from me to challenge your-”
“If I trapped my door, how else would I have gotten out?” Iruka pointed out, willing himself to not scream at her, mostly because he knew from experience that she could yell a lot louder than he could.
Her wrinkled face twisting into a displeased scowl, Naho waved the comment aside like it was a pesky fly. “Whatever,” she said, even though it wasn’t whatever, Iruka was right, she just hated to admit it, the old bat. “The point is, we had to clear everything out. We washed all of the clothes, obviously, but some things couldn’t be washed, so we had to dispose of them.”
Iruka felt his heart lurch. “Dispose of them how?” he asked.
“We threw them out,” Naho said, giving him a sharp look.
“Threw what out?” Iruka cried. “What did you do to my stuff?”
“The appropriate question here is what did you do to your own things?” Naho countered.
“I can clean it off!” Iruka yelped. “What did you do?”
“There wasn’t all that much,” Naho said. “We were able to wipe off your small chest of valuables. As it was still sealed, we just cleaned the outside.”
“What about all my seals supplies on the shelf?” Iruka pressed, his panic halfway subsiding. His parents’ things hadn’t been thrown out, at least.
“You mean the things you used to set a trap in your room?” Naho scowled down her nose at him, her tone growing colder with each word. “You’ll not be getting those back, Iruka. Surely you’ve realized that much.”
Iruka felt his blood run cold. “You didn’t throw them out,” he said slowly. “You couldn’t.”
Naho sniffed once, disdainfully. “We most certainly did.”
“But,” Iruka felt like the room was tilting, his heart thundering in his ears. “You didn’t throw out the books, at least. Not the books?” he knew his pleas were falling on deaf ears, but felt he had to try anyway. “Please tell me you kept the books!”
“I assure you, Iruka,” Naho said, her lip curling in a sneer, “we threw out everything.”
Before he had fully processed what he was doing, Iruka was already out of his seat and headed for the door. For all her years out of the field, Naho was still fast, though, and she put herself between him and the door before Iruka could reach it. “And where do you think you’re going?” she demanded, bony arms crossed over her chest as she stared down at Iruka. “Go sit down, I’m not finished with you yet.”
“When did you throw them out?” Iruka cried, trying to reach past her for the door. “Today? Yesterday?” He’d only been gone one night, but if the books had been in the garbage for two days-!
“I’m not telling you anything more until you sit down,” Naho snarled, her tone of voice sending a shudder down Iruka’s spine.
Slowly, Iruka took a step back, then another, until he’d somehow forced himself back into the seat, his whole body tense as he thought about those books in the garbage. “What?” he asked, forcing himself to sit still even though all he wanted to do was find the books.
“We have a more pressing matter than your poor taste in reading material,” Naho said, sinking back into her chair, her scowl growing more pronounced. “Eriko was very upset by your prank, Iruka. Do you remember the discussion we had at the beginning of this year? About consequences?”
Iruka nodded slowly. It had been more of a lecture than a discussion, and had mostly involved Naho threatening to saddle him with more chores than he could possibly finish in a day if he ever hid a dead fish in the air vents over the office again. He’d only done it to prove the point that only the office got heating during the winter, because only the office ended up smelling bad, but Naho hadn’t seen it that way, and had made her position on pranks very clear . Iruka braced himself for Naho to hand him a list with a truly horrific amount of chores on it. Instead, she sighed.
“Iruka, Eriko has petitioned for your expedited emancipation,” Naho said. “That’s why your things aren’t in your room anymore. It’s being given to someone else. If her appeal succeeds, you won’t be allowed to stay here any longer.”
Blinking slowly, not certain he’d heard her correctly, Iruka said, “But I thought I still had a month.” First his books were gone, and now they wanted to take away his room, too?
Naho pressed her lips in a tight line, staring at Iruka with unsympathetic eyes. “You did, but after this incident, we’ll have to wait to hear back from the board of directors.”
“But where am I going to sleep?” Iruka protested, feeling his volume rise despite his best efforts to not shout at Naho. “I don’t have anywhere else to go!”
Naho shrugged. “You can stay in the dormitory. We’ll keep anything that won’t fit in your locker here in the office.”
I bet you will, Iruka thought viciously, pointedly not looking at the safe that already held something of his. “Okay,” he said, not because he actually agreed, but because he didn’t really have a choice in the matter. “So you’re kicking me out. Now can you tell me about the books?”
“We threw them out with the rest of the items on that shelf,” Naho said.
“Did you even look at them?” Iruka snapped, unable to contain his frustration, his hands balling into fists. He needed to find those books.
“No, it was fairly obvious that the shelf contained all your ‘prank supplies’, so we tossed everything that was on it.” Naho gave him a bored look. “Why, was there contraband in there?”
“No,” Iruka said, “but three of the books aren’t mine. One’s from the Konoha Library and the other two are from the Sarutobi Family Library.”
To her credit, Naho didn’t even blink. “Well then I guess you should have considered that before abusing the knowledge in those books,” she said coolly.
Iruka forced himself not to explode by taking several deep breaths. She still had information he needed, so he had to hold it together a bit longer. “So where did you put them?”
Naho shot him a vaguely amused look that shifted into a sneer as she answered, “In the dumpster, Iruka. Where the trash is supposed to go.”
That would have made him more upset if Iruka hadn’t already been at peak frustration. “Right. When did you throw it out?”
“This morning,” Naho answered. “The garbage collection comes tomorrow for burnable items. You’d better hurry if you want to find them tonight.”
Iruka was almost convinced that Naho had looked at the books and had tossed them because she knew if anything happened to them, he’d be the one in trouble. All he did was nod, though, because she was right. He did need to hurry if he was going to find them. “Is that all?”
“Yes,” Naho said. “Oh, and Iruka? Please don’t come back inside if you smell like garbage. Hose yourself off outside, first.”
Crawling into the second dumpster, Iruka winced at the rancid scent of rotting food that emanated from its contents. He’d already checked the paper bin, which is where he’d assumed his scrolls and books and chakra paper would have been discarded, but it wasn’t there. So now he was crawling into the scraps bin, which usually had a lot less paper and a lot more old food, dirty diapers, and other gross things in it. Propping the lid open, Iruka began scooting bags of trash to the side, trying to find a bag full of papers. It was starting to get dark now, and he was beginning to worry he wouldn’t be able to find anything once the sun set. “Come on,” he hissed, lifting a heavy bag full of what was probably diapers, scooting it to the side and digging a bit deeper. “Where are you?” They had to be here somewhere.
“Iruka?” came a voice from outside the dumpster.
Iruka froze, turning around and peering out over the edge of the dumpster. Standing there were Yuuki-sensei, Shinko, and Itachi. Yuuki-sensei had been the one to speak up, and he was eyeing Iruka with a baffled look. “Why are you in a dumpster?” he asked.
Iruka remembered then that he was supposed to have met them for that evening training session around sundown. “I…” he froze, his words dying in his mouth. What was he supposed to say? That he’d set a trap on his room door to try and catch a thief and it had backfired? That he’d been secretly experimenting with exploding tag variations without supervision? That he was actually a stupid nuisance and Yuuki-sensei was wasting his time on him? “They threw out my books,” is what Iruka said instead. “And my brush.”
Yuuki-sensei frowned, “They threw out your books? Why?”
Iruka hadn’t been prepared for follow up questions. “Um.” What could he say? “Because they were… dangerous?”
Yuuki-sensei frowned a little. “Why would they think books are dangerous?”
Itachi piped up with a less-than-helpful comment. “Because Iruka doesn’t know the meaning of subtlety.”
Iruka was sorely tempted to throw a bag full of dirty diapers at Itachi’s head. These sorts of implications were precisely what he’d been trying to avoid! “Anyway it wouldn’t be a big deal, usually,” Iruka interrupted loudly, “But the books aren’t mine, they’re library books.”
Yuuki-sensei winced. “Bummer.”
“Did you already check that dumpster?” Itachi asked, pointing to the paper dumpster.
“Yes,” Iruka scowled. “I’m pretty sure they put them in here because they knew I would go digging for them.”
“That doesn’t sound right,” Yuuki-sensei said, “If they knew you would reclaim them, why throw them away at all? Either they’re too dangerous and should be confiscated, or you want them, so you can keep them.”
“I think it was someone else who threw them away at first, and Naho just didn’t care enough to rescue them,” Iruka confessed. Probably Eriko, he thought bitterly. I guess she must be the one stealing things.
“Well,” Yuuki-sensei grunted, hopping up to perch on the side of the dumpster, “I always say: two sets of eyes are better than one.”
“You’ve never said that, Yuuki-sensei,” Shinko pointed out as she clambered up the side of the dumpster, too.
“I haven’t?” Yuuki-sensei said, a hint of a grin tugging at his mouth. “Well, I have now.”
It took them the better part of an hour to find his things. By that time, Itachi had gotten over himself and clambered into the dumpster too. They threw half of the contents out of the dumpster so they could dig deeper, to the point that Iruka was fairly certain that Eriko had intentionally buried his books and other materials underneath the garbage to make things harder for him. Not that he was surprised, since he had made a pretty nasty trap and it made sense to him that she’d want to pay him back for something like that.
Still, he rather enjoyed watching Itachi’s normally neutral expression wrinkle with disgust every time he handled a bag full of dirty diapers. Right around the time they found Iruka’s books and seal-making supplies, Iruka had to ask. “Hey Itachi, don’t you have a little brother?”
Itachi’s eyes practically sparkled as he answered. “Oh yes,” he said, “His name is Sasuke. He’s very sweet.”
Although skeptical (Iruka fed and bathed about four of the very young kids in the orphanage as part of his regular duties, which of course meant he had a pretty good idea of what babies were like and they were rarely sweet), Iruka didn’t bother challenging him on the fact. After all, he’d never met Sasuke before and for all he knew the tiny Uchiha’s baby brother was the exception to prove the rule. “So then why are you so squeamish about diapers?” Iruka asked, lobbing another knot of discarded poop-receptacles over the side of the dumpster so he could dig a bit deeper.
“I don’t mind diapers, but human fecal matter is a known carrier of disease and I don’t want to get sick,” Itachi replied, gingerly lifting his own bag of diapers and easing it over the side of the dumpster.
Iruka blinked. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.” He considered the amount of poopy diapers he usually faced in a day - it wasn’t a lot, since he was out on missions more lately, but he still changed a diaper or two most days. “So you change Sasuke’s diaper sometimes, then?”
“Oh yes,” Itachi agreed in a surprisingly warm tone. “I often take care of him when my parents aren’t home.”
Opening his mouth to ask if his parents thought it was responsible to leave a baby with someone who was barely seven years old, Iruka remembered which seven-year-old in particular they would be entrusting Sasuke to and changed his mind. “I guess you’re a pretty responsible big brother,” he said. “That’s nice.”
Turning to gaze at him, Itachi’s face twisted slightly, like he was confused. “Was that a compliment?” he asked.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Iruka demanded, ducking down and rooting through some more garbage to avoid his eye contact.
“I just don’t think you’ve ever complimented me before, that’s all,” Itachi said simply, lifting another bag of diapers and pausing. “We’re looking for books, yes?”
“Yeah,” Iruka said, shuffling through some food waste with a grimace. Fish guts. Lovely.
“Would those books have brushes and ink with them, too?”
“Yes!” Iruka gasped, dropping the fish guts and turning to see what Itachi was looking at. Below the bag of diapers was a small bag containing his seal-making materials and three books. “That’s it!”
“Great!” Yuuki-sensei exclaimed from behind them. “Guess it’s time to hop out and throw all the garbage back into the dumpster, then.”
Itachi made a face, carefully picking up the bag of supplies and handing it to Iruka. “I’m glad we found your books,” he said.
Feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from his chest, Iruka accepted the bag of books. “Yeah,” he said softly, “me too.”
“What happened, anyway?” Itachi asked. “Why did they get thrown out?”
Iruka glanced nervously at Yuuki-sensei, who was starting to gather up bags of diapers in preparation to toss them back into the dumpster. “I’ll tell you later,” he said.
Raising an eyebrow, Itachi glanced between Iruka and their Jonin-sensei before shrugging. “Okay.”
Surprised that Itachi had relented so easily (considering how annoying he could be with reminding Iruka of his prankster reputation), Iruka hopped out of the dumpster before Itachi could change his mind. Shinko had two bags of diapers in each hand. “Better hop out of there, Itachi,” she called, “I’m about to start throwing things back in!”
“Wait!” Itachi hopped out so fast he resembled nothing so much as a sentient motion blur. “Okay, now you can throw them away,” he said, and Shinko tossed the bags, Yuuki-sensei tossing a few in after her.
Rather than joining them, Iruka took a moment to unpack the garbage bag and make sure his supplies were all in order. The books looked fine, though he didn’t bother taking anything out of the bag since his hands still smelled like dirty diapers and fish guts and other assorted garbage. “I think it’s all here,” he announced. “Thanks, guys.”
“You’re welcome!” Shinko replied with a smile.
“What are teammates for?” Yuuki-sensei added, tossing another few bags back into the dumpster.
“I’m glad you found your books,” Itachi added, staring at the bags on the ground like they might come to life and try to eat him alive.
Taking some pity on the tiny Uchiha, Iruka set his books aside and grabbed the last few trash bags, throwing them into the dumpster and then frowning down at himself. “I’m so gross now,” he said.
“We all are,” Shinko said with a grimace of her own. “I don’t think I’ve ever smelled this bad.”
“Why don’t we all go our separate ways, clean up, and meet at the training grounds in forty-five minutes?” Yuuki-sensei suggested. “That’ll give you enough time to put your books somewhere safe, too,” he said to Iruka.
Iruka nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. He wasn’t sure anywhere in the orphanage was safe for his things anymore. Still, he knew Yuuki-sensei meant well, and he wasn’t going to reject the offer, since he still needed to clean up.
“Sounds good,” Shinko said, “See you all in forty minutes.” With that, she jogged off, ostensibly in the direction of her house.
“See you,” Itachi echoed, turning and disappearing in a different direction.
Yuuki-sensei patted Iruka’s shoulder as he turned to head off as well. “See you in a bit.”
Iruka nodded, smiling weakly at Yuuki-sensei. “Yeah.” He glanced down at his books and supplies with a sigh. What was he going to do with this stuff now?
After finding a tiny hidey-hole in the dormitory he’d been moved into pending the board of directors’ decision about his place at the orphanage, Iruka secreted away his things and retrieved a change of clothes from his box of stuff in the office. Naho wrinkled her nose at him when he came in, which was understandable, since he smelled awful, but also seemed pretty unfair since he wouldn’t smell so bad if she hadn’t let Eriko throw his things in the trash.
He made it to the training grounds with a few minutes to spare, which he spent going through the few seals he’d put together to try out. He thought he might try his hand at barriers, since he’d managed some interesting innovations with tags. Maybe if he could manage to adjust barriers, he could try and tweak his wards, too. But first things first, he had to make sure his basic barriers were all in order. Which was why he’d brought his barrier seals with him for a bit of extra practice using them. Barriers, unlike tags, had specific placement requirements based on the type of barrier and the amount of chakra input. He also had to be sure he laid them down in the right order, and the script on them was pretty complex, so if you weren’t careful, you could mix them up. Absently, he considered whether changing the ink color would have a detrimental effect on the barrier itself. If not, that might be a nice shorthand way to remind himself of the placement order.
They’d never really used barriers much in the Academy, so most of what he’d learned came from the books Yuuki-sensei had gotten him and the ones he’d borrowed from the Sarutobi library. He liked them well enough based on his admittedly limited experience. Mostly he used them to keep his tag experiments under control, though he hadn’t had much time to work with them beyond the basics yet. He hoped they’d ultimately prove to be at least as useful as his tag modifications.
“Hey Iruka,” Itachi said, “I’m glad you made it here early.”
Surprised, Iruka turned to see Itachi wandering over to join him. “Oh, hey,” he said.
“So why did they throw out your stuff?” Itachi asked. “Was it your itch tag?”
Iruka scowled. Of course Itachi would bring that up. “Look, I already got my ear scolded off by Naho, I know it was a dumb idea so I don’t need you telling me the same thing over again,” Iruka said irritably. “I just didn’t want anyone taking my stuff.” He burst out with a bitter laugh as he realized how stupid he sounded, in light of what happened. “Well that sure backfired. So don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”
Itachi’s soft features tightened in a small frown. “Take your stuff?”
Iruka sighed, slumping to the ground and spreading out his barrier seals, arranging them into small piles in the order they should be placed. “Yeah. People’s stuff has been disappearing, and we went on that overnight mission, so I set a trap on my room door to keep people out.”
Crouching beside Iruka, Itachi hummed thoughtfully. “And someone set off the trap.”
Iruka scoffed. “Yeah. For room checks, supposedly. Except they stopped checking rooms after mine.”
Itachi tilted his head, eyeing Iruka thoughtfully. “Did other people have things go missing after their room checks?”
“I mean, they weren’t official room checks,” Iruka sighed, gathering his organized seals into a small bundle and tucking them into one of his belt pouches. “So there’s no real proof that things go missing after room checks. But nothing went missing after my room trap, and things did go missing before.”
“So you were being punished for attempting to defend your own property?” Itachi sounded baffled. “Don’t you have the right to privacy?”
“Supposedly,” Iruka scoffed, “Though in practice as long as you’re in the orphanage you don’t really have a private space, there aren’t any real locks on the doors.”
Frown deepening, Itachi plucked one of his kunai from its sheath and twirled it on a finger absently. “That’s not fair, if you have a room you should be able to decide who comes in or out.”
Iruka felt another peal of wild, desolate laughter bubbling in his throat, but he managed to swallow it back down. “You’d think so,” he said. “But apparently that’s not how the orphanage staff see things. Especially my stuff, because I’m… you know…”
“Incorrigible?” Itachi smirked lightly, re-sheathing his kunai and turning to fully face Iruka. “An unrepentant prankster?”
“A bad kid,” Iruka said dismally, flopping back onto the grass, gazing up at the dark sky overhead, the tiny winking lights of stars overhead blinking down at him. “Nobody really wants me around, they just put up with me.”
“I don’t just put up with you,” Itachi protested, gingerly laying down beside Iruka and staring up at the sky, too. “I talk to you because I want to.”
Iruka turned to stare at Itachi, genuinely surprised. “Wait, really?”
Turning his head to stare at Iruka, Itachi shifted uncomfortably on the ground. “Yes,” he said matter-of-factly, a small crease between his eyebrows. “Why would I say so if I didn’t mean it?”
“I don’t know,” Iruka replied, frowning a little as he thought about it. “I guess you don’t really have any reason to lie.”
“Of course not,” Itachi said, his small frown deepening slightly as he shifted again. “Why are we lying on the grass?”
A real laugh escaped Iruka as he glanced back up at the sky. “It’s comfortable, isn’t it?”
“Not particularly,” Itachi said testily. “It’s a bit wet. And the ground is lumpy.”
Iruka laughed again, sitting up. “How are you going to handle missions if you can’t sleep on the ground?”
“I can sleep on the ground when it’s necessary,” Itachi shot back, sounding affronted as he sat up, too. “I just don’t see the point in doing so when it isn’t required.”
Iruka shrugged. “Fair enough.” He glanced at Itachi, who was dusting off his Uchiha tunic, nose wrinkled at the grass clinging to his shoulders. “You missed a spot,” he teased, brushing Itachi’s shoulders a few times, a bit more forcefully than was strictly necessary.
“Thank you,” Itachi said, rather ruining Iruka’s fun by being genuinely grateful.
Unable to find words to express himself, Iruka settled for actually brushing the grass from Itachi’s shirt, smiling absently at the Uchiha crest emblazoned across his back. Once he finished, he sat back, bracing himself on his hands, glancing back up at the stars. Beside him, Itachi was also silent for a long moment.
“You’re not a bad kid,” Itachi said, still staring at the sky.
Iruka didn’t know how to respond to that, either, so instead he just scooted a little closer to Itachi, the two of them waiting quietly for the rest of their team to arrive.