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Iruka’s fingers shook as they scraped along the bark of the burned tree and he let his head rest on the trunk. At this point it was the only thing keeping him standing. The sun beat down from high in the sky and he swore he could feel the sunburn forming along his face. It was hot – everyone always talked about nuclear winter so he didn’t expect it to be hot - but deep down he still felt the cold of cryosleep. The vault suit clung uncomfortably to his legs, wet up to his knees from stumbling through water he didn’t dare drink. The pip boy on his wrist beeped steadily, letting him know he was already rad poisoned. That was probably why he felt hot. Or not? Was that a symptom of rad poisoning? Nothing about being a 4th grade teacher prepared him for the end of the world.
He was supposed to live in the vault.
He was supposed to be safe.
Instead, when the bombs fell he and his fiancé were welcomed into the vault and told they had to be decontaminated. They had felt the heat of the first shockwave pass over their heads as the elevator lowered them to the vault, so to Iruka’s panicked mind it sounded perfectly reasonable. Following Mizuki, he changed into the provided vault suit and stepped into the pod they said would clear up any radiation damage he may have experienced. They promised it would only take a moment and then he and Mizuki could begin to settle into life underground.
As soon as the pod closed, air colder than any he had experienced rushed in and he felt his body go limp. He had a sense of panic in the back of his mind but he was loosing consciousness too fast to process it. He doesn’t even remember when things went black.
The next thing he knew he was shaking uncontrollably and his body felt stiff. Alarms were ringing in the distance - a robotic voice warning of cryo-failure - and he fell to the floor as the pod was opened. He remembered being on his knees on the metal floor, watching as frost literally melted off of his hands in the warmer air of the vault. His mind was a jumbled mess. It felt like he had just blinked, like no time had passed at all. He struggled to his feet, his body so slow to respond it took all his effort just to stand.
He had checked the pod across from him, where Mizuki had settled, and upon opening the container found his fiancé lifeless and stiff. Ignoring his grief as something he could deal with later, Iruka stumbled out of the cyro-room, looking for others or an exit. The walk back to the entrance was short but filled with horrors – cockroaches as big as dalmatians and the desiccated bodies of Vault Tec Staff – but he made it to the Vault door with a 10mm pistol, 5 bullets, and a pip boy to open the doors.
The overseer’s computer had said that there had been a mutiny. The date on the last entry was so far away from 2077 Iruka couldn’t process it until he had risen up from the elevator and seen the blasted remains of the Boston skyline. Numb, he began to walk the short distance to what remained of his home in Sanctuary Hills.
Vault 111 had been built on a hill just outside of the suburban neighborhood, across a small stream, less than a mile from the new house he and Mizuki had purchased. By the time Iruka had pried himself off the dead oak and made it there he was down to 1 bullet and had a new case of entomophobia from all the overgrown bugs that had attacked him. A mosquito with the wingspan of a bird of prey had assaulted him at the edge of the stream, stabbing him in the shoulder with its stinger, probably giving him a disease. Then as soon as he shot that, a fly as big as his head began spitting some kind of foul liquid at him. He was hit in several places on his torso that were turning red and burning. It took about 3 shots to hit the thing with the way it darted around faster than his foggy mind could focus.
Iruka had pretty much concluded that he was only going to his home in order to lay down and die somewhere familiar. However, that too was taken from him. As he stumbled into the cracked pavement of the cul-de-sac, he found nothing but a tangled mess of metal and shingles where the house should be. His legs gave out and he fell to the ground in the dead, overgrown grass, the reality of losing everything he ever knew hitting him with this final straw. His fiancé, his friends - oh god all his students – they were all dead! Gone. He was all alone.
Iruka couldn’t breathe through the grief, breaking down in the ruined lawn of the home he and Mizuki planned to grow old in, at least 100 years past when he’d thought he’d die. It was absurd! Why had he even woken up? Why didn’t the malfunction kill him too? It was so pointless to survive only to die a few hours later from radiation poisoning and a mosquito bite. To live long enough to realized that everything he loved was gone. It was inefficient is what it was. It wasn’t fair. It pissed Iruka off.
Wiping his eyes, the anger was enough to push him to his feet. Holding his wounded shoulder, he staggered to the next house still standing. He remembered meeting the young couple that lived there at the welcoming party when he and Mizuki first moved in. The wife had just given birth. They were probably all dead now.
There were holes in the walls big enough for Iruka to crawl through but some leftover sense of propriety had him walking through the front door. The door had held on by a single hinge so Iruka didn’t try to close it behind him. One benefit of purchasing a house in a development was that the houses all had similar layouts, so Iruka found the bathroom easily. He pulled open every drawer and opened the medicine cabinet and came away with some pain killers and bandages. The wall separating the bedroom from the bathroom had collapsed and Iruka stepped over the debris and sunk into the mattress that had somehow survived, trying to ignore the way it smelled. He was too tired for that, and after he wrapped his shoulder, he found himself unable to support sitting up anymore.
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For the second time in two days Iruka woke disoriented. He couldn’t say which time was worse though. His body was sore and covered in sweat and yet he couldn’t stop shaking. It felt a bit like being in heat but a hundred times worse. His shoulder throbbed and the burns on his chest…well, they burned. Looking down he could see just how red and blistered the skin was. Several were filling with puss and he could smell the infection setting in. He had to have been asleep at least a day, as the sun coming through the busted windows had that midmorning feeling to it. His stomach clawed at him with hunger, but he also felt that if he ate anything he would just throw it back up again. He was more tired than when he had fallen asleep. He wished he was back asleep. Why was he awake anyway?
There was a scaping sound coming from the living room. Like the door that Iruka had not closed, swaying. Just the wind, he wondered. But then he heard the footsteps and the debris crunching underfoot. Iruka had fallen asleep with the 10mm in his hand and the adrenaline helped him to his feet.
Mizuki and Iruka had only been allowed in the vault because of Mizuki’s military service in the conflict at Anchorage but even after his tour ended, he still had trouble letting go of the fighting, the paranoia turning him into a different person. Weekends were spent at the shooting range and teaching Iruka some basic combat skills. Iruka humored him but had never been that good. He was thankful for it now though, as he positioned himself behind a damaged dresser that still stood where the wall to the bathroom used to be. If he crouched down he could see around the dresser and through the bathroom door to the hall. Even if the intruder could smell him over the decay that hung around the remains of the house, they only had one way to get to him. Unless they left back out the front of the house and came around the side to the open windows in Iruka’s room, but the omega was sure he would hear that. For a moment, Iruka himself thought of running, but in his condition he didn’t think he would make it that far. So with no other options, Iruka got ready to defend himself with a single bullet.
The footsteps drew closer and then stopped. Iruka dared not breathe for fear that he would give himself away and in the silence, he couldn’t hear anything from the intruder. He wanted to peak out around the dresser, thinking that he could maybe see a shadow or something, but he wasn’t sure if that would give his position away. He needn’t have worried though. A barrel appeared over the top of the dresser pointing straight for his face.
“Hands up,” a deep voice demanded, almost lazily. Iruka complied, and the 10mm was snatched out of his hand. “Stand up,” was the next direction, and Iruka struggled to comply when his knees felt like jelly.
The man standing across from Iruka was one of the strangest looking people Iruka had ever seen. He had grey hair that hung down around his face, in desperate need of a haircut. A scar bisected his left eye - which was red- and disappeared underneath the black bandanna he wore around the lower half of his face. His clothes were dirty and ripped - patched in some places, others still torn – and had a very army like feel to them. He carried a pack on his back that was stuffed full. Several clips of ammo and even a grenade could be seen on his bandolier. This close, Iruka could smell that he was an alpha. The heavy sent of musk and leather clinging to him made sense as various pieces of worn leather were wrapped around his shoulders, chest, and legs like armor. He had another smaller gun at his hip and Iruka could see the hilt of a knife tucked into his boot. The gun he was pointing at Iruka was unlike any Mizuki had ever showed him. It looked like it had been crafted out of various pipes, chunks of wood, and discarded springs. It would no doubt do the job though. This man was obviously more experienced than Iruka.
The man held the gun on Iruka’s person while he causally inspected the 10mm Iruka was beginning to think of as his own. He made a pleased hum before tucking it into his pants. Iruka opened his mouth to object but snapped it closed almost immediately as the man’s mismatched eyes focused on him. The gaze was intense and assessing as the man stepped around the dresser, gun never moving, and backed Iruka up with every step. He could go no further when his back hit the wall and he and the man just stared at each other. Iruka knew he must make a pathetic picture. Only one day in this wasteland and his vault suit was ripped and bloody, a dirty bandage wrapped around his shoulder. He was sweaty and covered in fly puke, he could smell it, and his hair had come mostly out of the ponytail he usually kept it in. That was just what could be seen on the outside. Inside he felt even worse.
A gloved hand reached out and grabbed his uninjured shoulder, pulling and pushing until Iruka’s front was plastered uncomfortably against the wall. Iruka felt the way it aggravated the burns there, but he was too busy wondering if he was being maneuvered into an execution position to feel it too deeply. Iruka began to panic as the high collar of his vault suit was pulled down, worried about what it meant to be an Omega now, but the man’s inspection ended quickly and Iruka realized with annoyance that he was checking for a mating bite. Iruka didn’t know if it was good or bad that he didn’t have one.
“Vault 111?” The stranger asked, reading the number Iruka remembered being sewn into the back of his jumpsuit, “I’ve heard of 114 and 95, even traded once or twice with 81, but I never heard of 111.”
“I-it’s about a mile west,” Iruka stammered, not really sure of the question but willing to keep the man talking instead of shooting, “just across the creek.”
Once again Iruka was manhandled until he faced the other man. The gun was still pointed at Iruka’s chest but now it felt more like a habit than a threat. The stranger was curious, “That’s new. You keep to yourselves?”
What did that even mean? There was no one there. At Iruka’s confused look the man elaborated, “Do you trade?” The man spoke as if talking to a very young child, “You looking for a hired gun? A guide? Or did you go nuts and kill everyone? You don’t look like you looted anything.” The last part was said with a derisive sneer, not for the thought that Iruka might kill a bunch of people, but that he might have left their valuables behind.
“What? No! What?!” Iruka collected himself and tried to explain, “There’s no one there. We-we were frozen.”
The man had very expressive eyes, Iruka thought, as they seemed to lose some of their intensity, softening around the edges with pity. “Frozen? Like the comics?”
Iruka wasn’t sure what he was talking about but agreed anyway. “I was just- I just woke up yesterday.”
“So you’re pre-war? Like some of the ghouls?” Again, Iruka only understood half the question but it seemed like the man was getting it, so he nodded. “I was born in 2054. My name is Iruka.” Iruka hoped that giving this man that information would convince him to spare him. He already seemed to be softening towards him, more curious than menacing.
“I’m Kakashi.” Slowly the man pointed the muzzle of the gun away from Iruka, still a bit wary but not seeming like he was going to kill him anytime soon. Iruka was so relieved. However that adrenaline was the only thing keeping him from feeling the last 24 hours, and once that wall came down Iruka had nothing left to keep him standing. He tried to grab out at the wall but his hands couldn’t catch purchase and his body tilted to the side. His flailing arms brushed something warm and he realized that Kakashi had reached out to catch him.
The light was getting dim but Iruka could hear Kakashi swear as he felt for Iruka’s pulse and then took his temperature with the back of his hand. He didn’t even see him remove his gloves. The world spun and he felt weightless, a relief after how much he had been struggling to move his body. He was set down somewhere soft, a little more roughly than Iruka would have liked. He bounced with it though and he heard Kakashi apologize for the rough treatment.
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The next time Iruka awoke he still felt like shit, but he no longer felt like he was dying. He was still in the dirty and broken-down bedroom, but a ratty blanket had been placed over his body and a folded jacket was cushioning his head, the scent of leather clinging to both items. His vault suit had been pulled down to his waist and he could see cleanish bandages wrapped around the wound on his shoulder and the burns that had decorated his chest. Lifting the edge of the bandage he could see healthy pink skin in place of the yellowing puss and red welts that had been there before. An I.V. was lodged into the crook of his elbow and he followed the line to a bag hung off the headboard in place of an I.V. stand. The bag had ‘Rad Away’ written on it in black letters and was filled with a liquid that was the same viscosity as blood but a little too orange in color to actually be blood. It was almost empty.
Iruka had no idea how long he had been out this time. He had a vague idea of someone lifting his head and feeding him a broth but it was dim and far away, fading by the second like a dream. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, still a bit fatigued but nowhere near as much as before. Evidence that Kakashi hadn’t abandoned him was everywhere.
A tan canvas type material had been pinned over the open window in the bedroom, providing cover from the elements but still allowing muted light through. The dresser Iruka had previously hid behind had various junk spread atop it, though Iruka wasn’t sure what the purpose of it was. A trash can by his bed was filled with dirty bandages and empty injectors. Iruka was a bit worried about what Kakashi had been doing to his body, but it couldn’t be all bad considered that he wasn’t dead. He rested while sitting up for a while longer, until the last of the Rad away had gone through his system, before he went to seek out his rescuer.
He found him under the empty car port off the kitchen. Kakashi had liberated a beaten-up grill from one of the lawns and had filled it with sticks and twigs in place of charcoal. An equally beat up saucepan boiled on the grating, though Iruka couldn’t guess at what its contents were. Kakashi was watching it casually, sitting on an overturned box and cleaning the 10mm.
“Good morning!” Iruka paused in the doorway, the cheery greeting so at odds with the menacing Alpha who had threatened him however many days ago. Iruka couldn’t get a read on him.
“Good morning,” he mumbled back, not quite as enthusiastic, more cautious, “How long was I out?”
“Three days.” Kakashi held a dissembled piece of the gun up, examining something and finding it sufficient. He began to put the gun back together, reminding Iruka of Mizuki in the confident way he handled the firearm, “You’re shit at surviving.”
“Yeah, I know,” Iruka snapped. It probably wasn’t wise to yell at the dangerous man holding a gun who had taken care of him for 3 days, but Iruka had always been a little touchy about being criticized. “I’m not a soldier. I used to teach 4th grade!”
If Kakashi was offended at all by Iruka’s anger, he didn’t show it, “What’s that?”
Well that took the wind out of Iruka’s sails. With a groan his knees folded and he sat heavily on the dirty concrete. Just how different was this world from his own? Would he ever be able to relate to anyone again? “Its- I’m- I was a teacher. I taught kids.” Iruka struggled to explain.
Kakashi had finished with the gun and tucked it back into his pants. Iruka didn’t think he was getting that back. “Taught them 4th grade?” Iruka nodded. “Fourth grade what? Is that like a pre-war religion or something?”
Iruka tried to explain to Kakashi the idea of elementary education, but it felt like trying to teach an alien. Kakashi nodded along but Iruka didn’t think he understood.
There was an awkward silence, at least on Iruka’s part. Kakashi seemed pretty ok with silence. Iruka watched him stir the contents of the pot and when he judged it to be ready poured it into a chipped mug and an empty aluminum can. Iruka got the portion in the aluminum can. He really hoped it had been washed.
Iruka had never been a picky eater, in fact he would consider himself downright adventurous, but the contents of the can gave him pause. It looked like a runny stew; the meat was dark and fatty with a green tint to it. Red vegetables that looked like tomatoes were cut up with it as well as some other leafy plant that was also red in color. It didn’t smell too bad, but it wasn’t appetizing. “What is this?”
“Squirrel stew,” Kakashi answered, pulling a spoon out of his pack, “Or it would have been if I could find any squirrel, or carrots. I found plenty of wild tatos though, and bloodleaf.”
“What’s the meat,” Iruka asked, but not really wanting to know. Trying not to think about it, Iruka put the can to his lips and took a sip.
“I killed a bloatfly down by the creek.” Iruka had never spit anything out faster.
“Bugs! You’re feeding me bugs!! What the fuck is a bloatfly? Oh, gross it’s not that nasty thing that spit up on me is it?”
Kakashi didn’t seem to share Iruka’s outrage, laughing as Iruka tried to spit the taste out of his mouth. It tasted sour and not at all pleasant. “You didn’t seem to have a problem when I fed it to you before.”
“I. was. Unconscious!”
“How dramatic,” Kakashi tutted, tucking the mug under his mask and finishing off the last of his stew with a theatrical slurp. He had somehow eaten without Iruka seeing his face. Iruka felt sick again. “If you are going to survive out here, you need to know what is edible and what isn’t. Food is scarce. You won’t last long if you just try to find prewar stuff.”
Feeling awful, Iruka stared down into the can of bug stew. Kakashi really had been kind, sharing his food with him, something that was apparently very scarce. If food was so hard to come by, what about medicine? Had Iruka taken everything Kakashi had? If so the least he could do was eat his cooking.
Iruka was just steeling himself to swallow down the contents of his can when it was plucked from his grasp. Kakashi laughed again, “Don’t worry Iruka-sensei.” In place of the can, a box of Salisbury steak was placed in his hand, “Here. Have this. At least until you get used to eating bugs.”
Iruka wasn’t sure how serious Kakashi was about getting used to eating bugs, but he was incredibly moved. Kakashi had just told him how scarce prewar food was and yet he was giving some to Iruka. It was exceptionally kind and for a moment Iruka felt his spirits lift somewhat. Surely this place couldn’t be all bad if everyone was as kind as Kakashi.
“Thank you,” Iruka said, hoping that Kakashi could hear the sincerity in his voice, “This is so generous of you, I- just-“ Iruka clammed up. Not sure he could adequately express how grateful he was at that moment.
“Not really,” Kakashi shrugged. “I’ll just put it on your tab.” For a moment Iruka thought Kakashi was joking, at least until the man continued, “With three days of food and water, 2 doses of rad away, 3 stimpacks, bandages, and antibiotics, I figure you are up to…500 caps.” At Iruka’s shocked and confused look, Kakashi clarified, “oh, caps are money.”
Iruka’s mouth hung open. He knew that Kakashi had gone out of his way to help him and he wanted to pay him back, but how was he supposed to earn money? There was money in the apocalypse? What kind of caps was he talking about? Was 500 a lot? How long would it take to earn?
“I-I-I don’t have any money!”
“Oh, I figured,” Kakashi said, standing. Iruka stood too, not really wanting to crane his neck to look up at the taller alpha. “Don’t worry, you can work it off.” The look Kakashi gave Iruka was heavy and full of intention, his eyes wandering appraisingly from Iruka’s messy hair down to his dirty boots.
Iruka felt his face flush, thinking of what Kakashi could possibly intend with a look like that. He couldn’t possibly want - that could he? How would that - and what if he got- maybe they could try….but - was there even lube in the apocalypse!?
“Wow Sensei,” Kakashi laughed, leaning into Iruka’s personal space, “You have a dirty mind.” If possible Iruka turned even redder. Kakashi backed away and began cleaning up their meal, “I was more thinking that you’d carry my things. I’m scavenging in between jobs right now and the more I carry the more I can sell. You’re more well fed and fit than most in the wasteland, so you’ll be an excellent pack mule. Also, that pipboy on your arm will get us into vaults. There’s probably some good scrap there. I’ll knock off 10% of everything I sell until you pay me back.”
If that was a good deal, Iruka couldn’t recognize it. He had so many questions. “How long will that take? I have no idea how much a cap is worth.”
“Good point.” Kakashi rubbed his chin, looking deep in thought. “You’re gonna need to learn about the wasteland too. I guess I can teach you as we go. First rule, nothing is free in the wasteland.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that,” Iruka snarked.
“Excellent! Now your total is 525 caps.”
“What?” Iruka balked. How many lessons would he need to learn? His debt would double in no time at 25 caps a lesson.
“Didn’t you learn the lesson?” The tone of Kakashi’s voice was disappointed, but the look in his eyes was shrewd and mischievous, “Nothing is free, not even lessons.”
Iruka should have seen that coming. “But still,” he countered, “it would be to your benefit if you taught me. For free. How much scavenging can you do if I’m constantly wandering where I shouldn’t and getting into trouble?”
Kakashi looked like he hadn’t considered this aspect of taking a newbie as an assistant - Iruka wasn’t going to call himself a pack mule - and Iruka tried not to look smug. “Good point. I’ll teach you, for free,” he emphasized, “everything a pack mule needs to know, but, anything outside of that will add 25 caps to your bill.”
Iruka pretended to think it over but he really didn’t want to push Kakashi on this. The man had kept him wrong footed for the entire time he knew him and it would be dangerous to think that Kakashi wouldn’t just decide he wasn’t worth the trouble and sell him for meat or something. They might do that. They eat bugs after all. Besides, Iruka could be observant. He’d probably learn plenty from Kakashi just by watching him. Sticking out his hand to shake, Iruka said, “I accept.”
After they had shaken on the deal, Kakashi sent him back to the bedroom to rest, planning on getting to work the following day. Later, Iruka would warm up the Salisbury steak and enjoy it. Life would be rough from here on out and he still hadn’t let himself fully process all he had lost. He would never be a teacher again. He would never see his friends again. He and Mizuki would never walk down the aisle or have children. He would have to live with their memories instead. Perhaps it was because of those memories that Iruka couldn’t bring himself to just lay down and die.
He had a feeling that Kakashi wouldn’t let him anyway, at least not until he got all 500 caps out of him.
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