Work Text:
Naruto fell onto the floor in a blur of yellow and black, his hakama trailing like river water as he sits on the floor with a pout “That’s not fair, nii-san! I didn’t know you’d do that!” he loudly complained, crossing his arms, his bright yellow hair sticking out in the wind. “Too bad, and you’re dead now.” Iruka shrugged as he held two bokkens, one on his left hand and another snug in his axilla. “Yeah and you’re holding it wrong!” Sakura commented, she sat on the engawa, her own bokken sitting beside her.
The blond boy huffed and quickly rose up to his feet. “Again!” he yells, going up to Iruka “And no more dirty tricks!” the older nods, in the corner of his eye, he sees the shadow of an elder stop by then disappear. He smiles and hands him the wooden sword. They both get into stance, get close and lower their swords before stepping back. Naruto raises his sword overhead while Iruka stands neutral, holding his bokken on his left side. “HAA!!” The young boy yells, swinging his sword downwards as he steps closer to Iruka, who steps back and tries to deflect the next blow, Naruto manages to hit his wrist before stepping back.
They stare at one another for a moment, circling like black kites. Naruto smiles smugly as Iruka studies his posture. Naruto surges forward with a swing once then twice, Iruka steps back, blocking both hits. Iruka uses his sword to deflect the blow, then hits Naruto’s wrist. The blond hisses, and steps back into a neutral pose, Iruka’s shoulders tense for a moment, he hopes it won’t bruise too badly. “Woo! Go Naruto!” Sakura cheers with a smile. The two circle each other once again, the older man in a more defensive pose while Naruto holds his sword upright. The blond boy brings down his sword as he takes a step forward, Iruka uses his sword to deflect it. They reset their poses, before Naruto surges forward, the tip of his bokken barely grazing Iruka's own. Iruka sees the opening and hits the other’s upper arm, Naruto grunts, takes a step back and takes on a defensive posture.
Iruka, now taking an offensive strategy, swings his sword downwards and with enough strength for both of the bokken to clatter loudly. Naruto barely manages to block it and uses the strength on his left wrist to pivot Iruka’s sword to the side, he takes another step back. Space grows between them for a moment, Naruto takes a breath, his eyes trailing over Iruka’s body as he tries to look for an opening. He’s then caught off guard when his older brother dashes toward him and swings his sword downwards in an attempt to hit his thigh. Naruto barely misses by taking a big step back, he stumbles but manages to steady himself in time to see Iruka standing in front of him. They go back and forth, Iruka would swing forward and Naruto would take a step back. After that they would circle one another. Naruto tried to disarm Iruka by striking his bokken, it let out a loud ‘thwack!’ but it didn’t work. Iruka moved forward seeing that the blond was close but Naruto managed to parry it in time.
Naruto tried an offensive attack and thrust his bokken towards Iruka’s face who managed to dodge it. Iruka closed the space between them and used his right hand to twist the young boy’s hand before shoving him backwards. Naruto was then hit on the shoulder by the bokken. “That was so quick!” Sakura said, eyes twinkling. “Nii-san, teach me how to do that!”
“Nu-uh! He’ll teach me first!” Naruto huffed as he sat on the dirty concrete floor. “Hey! Pipe down, you got your butt beat twice, nii-san can teach me now!” Sakura growled before standing up with her own bokken in hand. Iruka found her strength incredible, both his best dream and his worst nightmare.
“Naruto you can sit down now, you’ve had your fun.” Iruka said, sliding his bokken into the sheath. He helps the boy get up and dusts the dirt off his hakama. He turns to see Sakura smiling and in a neutral stance, Iruka nods before unsheathing his bokken once more. She lasts longer than Naruto, her bokken clattering loudly on the ground as she was disarmed.
The night was low and cold, chōchin’s dancing in the wind and the flames of tōrō lamps flickered with every breeze. Dinner was finished with little effort, Naruto and Sakura were told to retire early—they had literary studies in the early morning. Iruka however, did not have such a luxury and was quietly told by a servant to enter the great hall. Iruka nodded, looked over his scrolls for a moment, the ink still wet and the proverb unfinished. He sighed then he stood up and walked towards the jaws of a lion.
The great hall was something Iruka learned to survive when he was young. His father, a humble and kind man, and his mother, a gentle and patient woman, were at the mercy of the family’s elders and their judgemental stares. Iruka strived in ways that he wouldn’t say were normal, and it was to his relief that he got to teach both Naruto and Sakura, not the old fogey clan seniors.
He passed open windows, occasionally stopping by to take in the fresh air or look out the garden and its lit lanterns. He stood in front of the door, he stared at the pale paper: muddy silhouettes of multiple people and the soft whispering. Iruka takes a deep breath and exhales, trying to compose himself—trying to be understanding, patient, blind enough— his hand lingers on the door for a moment before gently sliding it open.
“Iruka-san, you’ve certainly taken your time.” Fukurou, a distant cousin from his father’s side, said. Fukurou sat beside Fuuga, another distant relative. “I couldn’t help but appreciate the night.” Iruka smiled, though not warmly as he continued to walk further into the dark room. He nodded when he saw Sakana, his father’s sister who knew more than she let on—and quite frankly spoiled his siblings—she nodded back.
“Iruka, I assume you already know why we’ve called you here.” Suzume, his grandfather, said. He pointed at the space in the middle of the room, Iruka sat stiffly, like he was a piece of porcelain laid in the house of a court noble. “There are many reasons, ojii-san.” Iruka replied “I could only guess.”
His grandfather hummed then frowned. “You have talent, boy. You’ve learned so much, plenty of potential and in your prime. It’s a shame there’s one thing stopping you from reaching the pinnacle.” Iruka could see his mother in the corner of his eye, sitting far off in the dark corner: she was never really welcomed in the family. He took a breath before replying: “Second gender does not define who you are.”
“In this family, sure. But we have a reputation to uphold.” Handa, his grandmother said. She was an old woman who had a distaste in everything: be it your posture or the people you surround yourself with. “We are a family of respected shoguns, scholars, and courtesans. You are wasting your beauty, Iruka.”
“I prefer to keep my sword, obaa-san.” He replied. She let out a ‘tsk’ and scowled at him. “Don’t be smart now, boy.” She warned. Iruka hears Fukurou snicker. Iruka glares at him when he sees his cousin with a smug grin. Iruka felt something off with him no matter what, perhaps it was that he was the family’s direct heir or it was the gap between their second gender that made Iruka have a slight dislike towards his cousin—though dislike is not enough to describe his feelings.
“I say he’s grown into a fine young omega.” Sakana said, folding her fan, “He has many years beyond himself. He was only seen, what? Twenty? Twenty-one winters? Marriage is quite early.”
“That is the point, Sakana,” Ikeda, his father’s younger brother, cut through her argument. “Omega or not, he should be having heirs to continue the lineage. Do you really expect those rascals to carry the next generation? Naruto is temperamental and Sakura can barely hold herself!”
“They are still young,” Ikkaku interjected, his jaw clenched.
“Otōto, don’t be ridiculous. Your children are at the age where intelligence matters most. How can you expect those two when neither of them have what it takes to be an Umino?” Ikeda continued, the positive murmur of other members echoed.
“So what? They are young, their faces still soft and round.” Sakana replied, her brows knit and her head tilted upwards slightly. “I don’t remember you being so rigorous with training yourself, onii-san.”
“They are Umino, they represent our house. If Ikkaku’s children can’t bear the title then perhaps other members of the family can step up for this pathetic display.” His aunt said—Iruka doesn’t remember her name, he just can’t stand her shrill voice. Iruka’s shoulders tensed but he kept himself still as he sat there, voices growing louder and louder, the scent of pheromones getting stronger—thick and heavy—made him shudder. This is why he hates going into the great hall.
He wanted to retire to his room. He couldn’t even remember the continuation of the proverb he was writing, if anything he didn’t even have the strength to write. Iruka stares at the tatami mat, counting the rows of the bamboo as he tries to tune out the voices. It never really worked. The noise died down when his grandfather yelled “Enough! We are going nowhere.”
Aunt Sakana growled one last time at his other oba-san, his father had a hand on her shoulder. “Iruka, as you are now the one inheriting the title as clan head, your job is to find a suitable partner to continue the lineage.” His grandfather spoke, “We will give you options and you will choose which one of them you will marry. Is that understood?”
Iruka took a moment—maybe one too long as he felt eyes all over him—then replied “Yes, ojii-san, I understand my purpose.” Iruka hated the words that fell out of his mouth, saying it felt like he was branding himself. “Good.” His grandmother said, “You will meet them this week.” Too little time, Iruka thought.
He was dismissed with a curt wave of a hand and he quickly removed himself from the room. Iruka only felt relief when he found an open window, letting the cold breeze run over his body, washing away whatever pheromones clung to his skin. He turned to see his mother standing a few feet away from him, he could see her face clearly now: her hair was a lighter shade of brown, she had the same dark eyes as his and she barely reached his shoulder now. She smiled softly before taking a few steps.
“You’re taller than I remember,” she said, then carefully caressed his cheek. Iruka leaned into her warm palms, feeling the comforting scent of jasmine. “Promise me one thing, my son, that’ll choose your heart no matter what they say.”
“I will, kāsan” he replies, pulling her into a hug. The scent of jasmine was much clearer now. “I will.”
“Good, I don’t ever want to see you silent. Not once."
“SHANNARO!” Sakura yelled, running at Iruka. She held her bokken tight and jumped to deliver the final blow—if it were a katana or anyone who isn’t quick enough. Iruka pivoted backwards, he used both his hands to raise his bokken to block the strike. Sakura grunted and took a step back. She dashed forward and swung her wooden sword upwards, barely missing the older male. Iruka blocked the next swing, bokken clattering against one another. The wood met again as Sakura struggled to land a hit.
“Go Sakura! Beat him!” Naruto cheered from the engawa.
Iruka took a step back, he studied her frame—she was strong, quick and smart but blind to the easiest of things. The leaves rustled under the harsh afternoon sun, the faint scent of lemon grass carried by the wind as the pink haired girl and the brunet stared at each other. Stillness encased them as they stood.
In a flash of brown and pink, the only thing heard was the sound of wooden swords hitting one another. Sakura jutted her sword, the tip just inches away from Iruka’s face. His sword hit the base of her bokken, maneuvering it to the side. The older male stepped forward and slashed his sword, Sakura blocked it just before the wood hit her face.
Iruka kept attacking. He gripped his sword tighter. If he couldn’t outpace her, he could hound her to yield. Sakura grunted, trying to keep up with each hit. Her feet skipped on the grass with each step backwards, she took quick glances behind her—he got her now. Iruka used the momentum from his last strike and did an overhead swing. Sakura couldn’t dodge in time and was hit on the head. She stumbled back and let out a loud yelp, the sound of her bokken clattering to the floor as she fell.
Iruka stood still for a moment, his grip on his bokken tight—numb and throbbing. His chest burned with each exhale. He rolled back his shoulders—it ached badly. Iruka blinked twice, snapping himself out of his daze. “Sakura! A-are you alright? Let me see.” He said, kneeling down and brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Iruka’s eyes widened as he saw the large bruise forming on the right side of her forehead. He didn’t mean to hit that hard. “Hey, hey, does it hurt?” Iruka asked, swallowing dryly.
Sakura shook her head, her eyes slightly teary from the fall. “Is it bad?” She asked.
“Sakura, Sakura! Iruka-nii!” Naruto came running towards the two. Iruka shielded her from the blond boy’s view. “Naruto, get me, uhm, get me some wrapping.” he said “It’s in the armory, just look to your left. Okay?”
“Yeah but is she alright?” Naruto asked, stepping to the side and trying to take a peek.
“She’s… She’s alright, just get me the wrapping.” Iruka replied with a smile. Naruto stood for a moment, unconvinced before nodding and running inside the house. When the young boy was out of view, Iruka turned to look at Sakura who was more concerned for her bokken than herself. “Man, I just polished it.” she sighed before looking up at the brunet. “It doesn’t look too bad, right?” she asked, rubbing her bruise.
“Don’t–” Iruka smiled, sighed, and dropped his shoulders. “Don’t touch it too much.”
Iruka helped her up to her feet and led her to the porch. He picks up the scattered bokken and sits beside her. The brunet looked at her—round cheeks, long pink hair, swinging her feet idly from the engawa. He bit his lower lip. Should he say sorry? Or ask if she’s feeling worse?
“You’re stronger than usual.” Sakura said, looking at the backyard. Iruka was stunned for a moment, he blinked twice. The leaves rustled, a soft breeze washing over the two of them. Iruka took a breath of fresh air, his chest lighter than before. “And you smell weird. Like grass and ginger, or something. Is that what happens when I present?” Iruka scratched the bridge of his nose—feeling the slight dip from his scar. “Why’d you think that?” he answered her first comment, “Yeah, you start changing when you turn sixteen. But that’ll take a long time, you’re still ten.”
Sakura nodded, she turned her head to look at him. Iruka looked back. They both smiled. “You let Naruto win last week. It’s nice seeing his butt kicked yesterday.” she giggled, recalling the way Naruto fell and complained each time he was beat. Iruka grinned, scooting closer to her. “Yeah? I guess I should be strong all the time.” Another breeze passed, light green and browning leaves danced softly in the air. Iruka envied the leaves—the way they swayed without a care, the time they took before falling on the ground, and how soft they landed.
The pink haired girl pouted at his answer—her brows furrowed and her cheeks lightly puffed up like a hamster. He chuckled at her expression. “That’s no fun now. I want to win too.”
Iruka smiled and tucked a stray strand behind her ear, careful not to touch her bruise. “I think I might let you two spar next week.”
Sakura beamed, grinning wide and kicking her feet. “Really? Really? You promise? Swear on it!”
Iruka nodded, “If you do good. You two have to beat me.” He said, holding out his pinky. “Two versus one.”
She wrapped her pinky with his. “Deal!”
Iruka heard the soft patter of feet, then— “Iruka-nii! I can’t find it!” Naruto emerged from the hall, his hair was wilder and his haori was dusty. The blond stepped closer to the two of them, out of breath from running. “You said to look at the left but it wasn’t on the left so I looked to the right and then—” Iruka raised a brow when Naruto stopped talking. The young boy pointed at Sakura’s forehead as if it was him who got the bruise. “Sakura! Your– your forehead!”
“Huh? Oh this?” She reached to touch the welt. “It’s nothing to worry about.” She smiled, Iruka didn’t agree with that. He was too hard on her. On both of them. He remembers giving Naruto a bruise on his forearm. Iruka helped rub ointment and wrap it every night. Iruka sighed and watched the two bicker before standing up. “Alright, let’s find that bandage and get you patched up.” Iruka said, helping Sakura on her feet. A quiet breeze came, rustling the leaves of the tree. Iruka made sure the two were close to him as they walked inside the house.
Iruka saw them less and less. He hadn’t seen Naruto nor Sakura in the past few days, only occasionally seeing them during breakfast or dinner—if he was lucky. His saya and katana were replaced with an obi wrapped tightly around his waist, his bandages were removed, his wounds and scars covered with a long haori that dragged uncomfortably, his eyes were smudged with kohl and his lips tinted with red. A perfect porcelain doll.
“A beautiful pearl.” His aunt Chieko commented, tying his long hair with a piece of mottoi and adding a tama stick. “Alphas want omegas with good taste. You must be calm, obedient—work fast paced, with good breeding and a slim waist.” His other aunt said, holding his chin as he was pampered.
“You will bring honor to us all.” They told him before sending him off.
He found himself dazed during these meetings—so many suitors lined up for a single omega they barely know. Iruka would nod and smile politely as they talked about feats of strength or the great amounts of copper and silver. He had no interest in them. Though, he did find new acquaintances.
Anko Mitarashi, a female alpha just the same age as him. She was a scholar and dabbled in the arts of poison. She knew how to wield a katana but preferred using venom, Iruka didn’t want to argue lest his tea would get contaminated with something. She was also quite loud, boisterous and had quite the sweet tooth. Iruka enjoyed conversation—gossip—with her. He held no grudge when she called him pompous, he called her a maniac—she laughed.
Genma Shiranui, an alpha just two years older than him. Iruka felt uncomfortable with the silence they had during the first few minutes but grew comfortable once he knew about Genma’s profession as a blacksmith, his hands calloused and rough. Iruka learned that Genma had a late lover who never came back from his voyage and his family had forced him to ‘woo’ the omega’s heart. Iruka says his condolences, Genma gives his thanks and they part ways.
Raidō Namiashi, a samurai from the west of Konoha. He had a large scar on his face, which Iruka was curious about. Raidō told him he got it from a battle that happened two winters ago. They exchanged stories and revealed scars, Raidō was impressed with how decorated the omega was. Iruka was pleased to hear when Raidō accepted his challenge to a duel if they would meet again.
When night came, Iruka did not rest. He wrote many proverbs, theories about kenjutsu, and stories until his wrist ached. He read books, philosophical studies, and history. His quarters were filled with scrolls and cloth sheets, every space in his room smelled of dried ink, tea, and paper—overpowering Iruka’s own lemon grass scent.
He did everything to quell the itch of wielding a katana. Iruka had been prohibited—banned—to come near the armory and hold anything that resembled a sword. His days were filled with being taught how to cook, how to prepare a bed—not a nest—how to clean various places of the house, then meet several suitors until the sun sets.
“Raise your chin, you must look dignified.” His aunt Chieko said, before dropping the heavy tray with a full tea pot in his hands. “Now, serve.” Iruka’s hand shook as he poured the warm drink.
“Don’t swallow too much, it will ruin the ohaguro.” Aunt Sakana said, in her hand a brush with black lacquer. Iruka hated having his teeth painted every time he met a suitor. “I can’t save you this time.”
“I hope you’re not mad at us, Iruka.” His mother whispered in the dead of night. “We’ve tried to tell them, but your grandfather is a hard man to convince…” Iruka could only smile and forgive his mother.
“Your mate will starve if you cannot cook!” Aunt Nagisa sighs with disappointment, she picked at the soba Iruka had served—it was undercooked. “Again. You will not leave the kitchen until you have done it properly.”
Time passed like falling leaves, Iruka doesn’t remember how many suitors he’s been with. The cold air of the night seeps into his weary bones, he feels his heart beat in his chest. He laid still on the futon but sleep did not claim him. Two knocks came from the door, Iruka did not answer, hoping that if he could feign rest, they would leave. It did not work.
“Iruka-sama, your grandfather has ordered me to deliver you.” The voice of a young maid called. He sighed and got up, he smooths down his haori before answering the door. Reluctant, he walks through the corridors of the house. Wind howling in the distance, he hears the furins clatter from the harsh breeze. It will rain soon, Iruka thinks, maybe… Just maybe he would do it.
His hand rests on the shoji, the rough texture of the paper pressing on the tips of his fingers. Iruka hears the raised voices of her aunt Sakana and his uncle Ikeda, he could smell the faint scent of cedar, salt and sage. It made him dizzy. Okami save him.
He slides the door open a beat later, Iruka is hit with silence. He enters the room with a low bow. “Iruka, have I disturbed your rest?” His grandfather asked, Iruka shook his head and sat down on the tatami mat. “No, ojii-san, I was still awake.”
“As you know, young man, we have given you a fine set of suitors.” His grandmother stated. Iruka took a deep breath, the thick smell of various scents clouding his scenes. Iruka had been sensitive to smells the past few days, meeting the suitors might have overridden his senses and his heat might come early because of it. “You have yet to choose from the options.”
“I am aware, obaa-san.” Iruka replied.
“Where is your answer then? A fortnight has passed.”
Iruka did not have an answer. He never had one in the beginning. Inhale, exhale. He swallows thickly, vision swimming. “I.. I’m still weighing options.” He answers, Iruka hears his voice quiver, he bites his lower lip.
“We want your answer within two days. If not, we will choose for you.” His grandfather informed flatly. Two days. Iruka thinks. Not enough. If it would rain tomorrow, then he needed to leave before sunrise.
“Of course, ojii-san.” Iruka replied. When he was dismissed, he raced out of the room.
The wind was starting to howl, pounding on the windows, the furins singing louder as he ran through the corridors. Candle light flickered, his shadow growing with each turn he took. He did not stop until he reached the armory.
Breathless, Iruka slid the door open. His heart drops when he doesn’t see his katana—taken elsewhere, destroyed, given to someone else. His brows knit as he finds a wakizashi—No, he wouldn’t.—he grabs it before retreating to his room.
Iruka hides it under a mountain of scrolls. He paced around his room, his lungs burned, he felt like throwing up. He runs a hand through his long hair, sticky from sweat, the sound of rain drizzling echoed in his room. Iruka was sure now—two days was enough.
His peace did not last, another knock came on his door, Iruka shoved his packed up items under the futon and buried the lump it created with thick sheets. He answered the door and was surprised to see his mother standing with a katana in her hands. She looked guilty. He let her into his quarters, the candle light marking her face with deep shadows.
“I.. My son, I don’t want you to live like this.” She says, gripping onto the sword tightly. She bites her lower lip. She pauses for a while, chest rising with each passing thought she had, her jasmine scent filled the room. “They sold yours to a merchant. They wouldn’t give it to Naruto or Sakura. I’m sorry…”
Iruka’s shoulders dropped. His katana—identity—was sold.
She swallowed thickly, before taking his wrist and placed the katana on his hands. “This was your grandfather's—my father gave it to me when the third great war happened. I’m giving it to you.”
Iruka held the sheathed sword, the saya was made of dark wood and had black engravings. A white piece of cloth tied on the top. He looks at his mother, his hand steady on the samegawa, she nods. The blade shone under the orange candlelight, and on the steel a kanji was engraved. 回復力
Iruka sheaths the sword and hugs her tightly, inhaling her jasmine scent. “Go. Leave. Sakura and Naruto will be alright.” she whispers.
Iruka left at twilight, rain continued to pour in heavy strokes. His mother gave him a cloak and a kasa to wear, his katana strapped on his right, the wakizashi on his left along with a kunai he tied to his leg. He carried very little with him—a map of neighboring countries, a forged identification document, and enough food to last for two days. Iruka looked at the house, the horse neighed as he held the reins, a cold breeze passing over. He memorized the details, the number of pillars on the porch, the color of the wood, and the shape of his mother’s shadow.
He reached the city by early morning, the rain did not stop. Under the grey sky and closed shops, the sound of galloping horse feet echoed on the cobblestone paths. Iruka hoped his scent didn’t unnerve the awakening townsfolk. He made it to the gate with the sky just shy of light, the rain drizzled softly as he got down from his steed.
Iruka tilted his kasa, careful not to show his face. “Identification?” The guard spoke, Iruka was familiar with the voice, he tilted his head to the side, just enough to see a face. “Raidō?” Iruka whispered, heart pounding as he held tightly on the reins of his horse.
Raidō looked at him, just as surprised. He wore thick and bright armor, his kabuto tilted forward to shield his face from the rain. “Iruka? What are you doing here? Wardens have been alerted of your disappearance.”
Iruka was stunned by the news. It was just dawn and his departure had been made known. It was too fast. “I- I’m leaving.” He swallows thickly, showing the scroll he had forged. Raidō took the document, eyes scanning at the information. The alpha looks at him with worry, Iruka feels the spike in his scent—sharp and thick. He holds his gaze a second longer before being cut short when the sound of another horse comes close.
Raidō nods, handing him his scroll. Iruka smiles gratefully and mounts his horse before galloping away.
“Oy, who was that?” A samurai asked.
“Just a merchant travelling up north.” Raidō answered plainly, his hand resting on the handle of his katana.
“His name?”
“Shima Sokon, a beta, and twenty-six years of age.” Raidō replied—lied.
Two days passed in a whir of green and brown, he was a hundred and twenty kilometers away from Konoha. The nearest village was fifteen kilometers away, Iruka figured to walk the rest of the way. The rain hadn’t stopped, only steadying in thin wisps. Unfortunately, it did not quell the heat and exhaustion that settled deep in his bones. Iruka’s pace slowed in the afternoon—stopping every few miles for rest.
He passed by a merchant once, an old man travelling from Suna to Konoha. Iruka traded a spare kunai for a few supplies. As he continues on the muddy path, he meets a samurai—white haired and a cloth covering his lower face. Iruka tilts his kasa downwards when the man approaches. “Is it alright to be disturbed? I have a question to ask.” The man says, voice smooth and low.
“It depends, stranger, for I need to reach the nearest village before sundown.” Iruka replies with an accent, he holds the reins tighter.
“Very well,” he nods, “You see, I am traveling to Konoha and I've gotten lost.”
Iruka’s heart stopped at the mention, he swallowed thickly. A cold breeze passes them. The man continues, “Perchance, do you know the road to Konoha?”
“I… I pardon, sir, I do not know the way.” Iruka replies, shuddering from the wind.
“How unfortunate…” Sighed the white haired man, he took a step back. Iruka’s eyes widen when he sees the sharp glint of a katana. “But I do know a bounty when I see one.” The tip of the blade was an inch away from his face. Iruka gripped his katana tightly, blocking it just in time. Iruka can’t tell if the smell of cedarwood came from the strange man or the forest. But he does know one thing—he’s not going to die here.
Kakashi did not have much interest in men nor women—omega or not. He was framed as a defective alpha by villagers—had he presented early and did not look for a mate to bond with. Though, the white haired boy didn’t mind. He was more focused on being like his father, Takigakure’s elite shogun. His father was proud of his ambition but was concerned for his social status. When the great third war had come and swept the world, Kakashi inherited his father’s title at fifteen.
From there on, tragedy struck him like lightning. His friends Obito and Rin had passed away at the age of nineteen and twenty-two respectively. Obito with his incurable illness and Rin had been killed in action. At twenty-eight, Kakashi learned not to flinch as servants tended to his wounds. He learned how to politely decline events unless it was delegation. He handled ruts on his own.
It was early morning, a light drizzle tapping on paper windows. Gai visited and showed him a scroll—it was new, Kakashi could tell with how the paper looked, the ink still fresh. “Kakashi, my friend! There is recent news of a bounty.” He said, a sketch of a young man no older than twenty etched onto the paper. Under the picture, the words sprawled onto it: ‘Umino Iruka - To be returned alive - 7 million ryo reward’
“Maa, so soon? Kisame is still under investigation.” Kakashi replied, drawing a sigh. “The rain never really ends here in Takigakure, neither does the crime.” Kakashi took the bounty with little hesitation. He circled around the village twice before leaving to patrol the surrounding area, water dripping from the brim of his kasa.
The alpha mounted his steed, the sheath of his katana clicked against the thick armor he wore. Ten kilometers from the village gate, the shogun sensed a scent that didn’t match the muddy terrain—ginger? Lemongrass perhaps. He continued forward, his horse let out a blow, ears perked as it walked. The leaves rustled harder, the sky fading into a dark grey. Through the muddy pathway, the scent grows—sharp and strong. Kakashi grunted, dismounting himself from his steed.
The wind blows hard, dying leaves fall from branches, the mud on his boots hardens. The cold seeps into his armor, Kakashi trudges forward, following the dizzying smell of lemongrass. It doesn’t take long before Kakashi finds him. A man just two inches shorter, a dark cloak covering his entire body and a horse with him. The shogun approaches, a hand resting on his katana.
The scent hits Kakashi’s senses, something churns in his stomach. “Is it alright to be disturbed? I have a question to ask.”
“It depends, stranger, for I need to reach the nearest village before sundown.” The fugitive replies, holding onto the reins tightly.
“Very well,” he nods, “You see, I am traveling to Konoha and I've gotten lost. Perchance, do you know the road to Konoha?”
“I… I pardon, sir, I do not know the way.” The omega replies, his frame shudders from the cold breeze. The rain starts pouring in thick drops. Kakashi unsheaths his katana, the tip of his blade just an inch away—he didn’t mean to harm. He was surprised when steel met with each other. The omega held his sword steady—his sword hit the base of his own katana, maneuvering it to the side. Kakashi was surprised when he raised his hand for an overhead strike. He takes a step back and blocks it with the back of his katana. A loud squeal comes from the horse, its head elevated, ears pinned and pawing at the soft ground. Iruka gently tugs at the reins with his left hand as his right holds the blade.
Wind blew hard as Iruka held his stance, the tip of his backsword pointing at Kakashi’s neck. “You– Who sent you?” He asked, swallowing thickly.
“No one.” Kakashi answered, his shoulders and torso open as he gripped his katana. The tip of it pointing straight to the ground. “You’re in foreign land and there is a bounty for you.”
Iruka took a step back, the distance between them growing. “How much?”
“Seven million ryo.”
“Let me pass.” The fugitive says.
“No.”
“I am not returning.” Iruka states. Rain pours harder, Kakashi hears the neigh of his own steed. There was no silence, the forest is never silent. Thunder crashes down, both horses scream, thrashing and frightened at the sound. Iruka pulls at the reins, looking away for just a moment. Kakashi steps forward, aiming to hit the tsuba to disarm him.
Iruka raises his sword to block it, the horses gallop away. Thunder rolls again, rain drips down the brim of his kasa. He was quick, Kakashi thought. Too quick for self defense alone. Iruka twists his wrist and hits Kakashi on the forearm, his armor takes the blow. The shogun takes a step back, boots squishing the soft dirt.
He studies Iruka’s stance, the sword looked too heavy with how the omega held it. He was breathing heavily, his scent strong and heavy. Kakashi takes the opening, raising his katana, lashing downwards. Iruka deflects with the edge of his blade, he takes the momentum and takes a step forward to strike. The shogun jumps back, the tip grazing over his kasa.
Kakashi clicked his tongue, the ground was uneven, the terrible weather made it hard to distinguish the glint of metal from rain. Something stirred in him, low in the pit of his stomach at the scent that the omega kept releasing—it was loud and pounding into his brain. Iruka stood with purpose—left foot forward, his right bent behind him, his sword pointed at the sky.
The shogun held his blade with both hands, the tip pointing at his opponent’s central point. Iruka strikes first, misses, leaving him open. Kakashi takes a step forward, and blood drips down onto the mud. The omega yelps but doesn’t yield and holds the same position but with cautious distance. Stubborn. Kakashi thinks. Steel met twice, the rain washing off the rustic scent of blood.
Iruka held a new stance, the tip of the blade pointing at his neck. Iruka rushes at him, jutting his sword to his face. Kakashi blocks it with the back of katana. Iruka hits again with a strike to his thigh. The shogun jumps out of the way.
Kakashi blinks, dizzy when the scent comes close. Iruka steps forward with an overhead strike. He blocks it. Iruka kicks him in the chest, Kakashi grunts as his left knee hits the ground. His eyes widen when a silver glint comes down.
It doesn’t strike. A body falls nonetheless.
The shogun returns to Takigakure with an omega in tow.
Iruka gasps when he wakes up.
Sweat drips down his spine, the sound of rain rings in his ears, his head spins as warmth spills into his body. He was back at the house. Back in Konoha. He was wearing a dark green yukata, his entire left arm was covered with fresh bandages. Something shifts beside him, a head of bright blond hair and a tuft of pink hair. “Naruto? Sakura?” He whispers, reaching out to pat their heads. Naruto reacts first, lifting his head in surprise. Sakura lets out a groggy groan.
“IRUKA-NII!!” Naruto greets, hugging Iruka. The omega lets out an ‘oof’ in return, he pats his young brother’s back. “Where’d you go?! Why were you gone for a week?! Who’s the guy you’re with?! He says he’s your husband! I don’t believe him one bit!”
Iruka is stunned at the news. Sakura hits Naruto in the head. “Idiot! Nii-san just woke up and you’re hounding him!” He lets out a shaky breath, gripping the sheets tightly.
“Just say you don’t care about him! I’m asking ‘cause I’m worried!” Naruto replied with crossed arms. Iruka’s head spins, husband? The last he remembers before passing out is raising his sword to strike that bounty hunter.
“You–! I am worried, but you’re being loud! Iruka-nii needs rest!” Sakura said, her left eye twitching in irritation. Did the family choose his husband? Was it Raidō? Anko? Genma? His chest tightens, he remembers the heat and exhaustion that seeped into his bones. Who even brought him home?
“Naruto, what husband?” Iruka asked. They look at with knit brows. They know something.
“You were brought home by this guy named Kakashi Hatake.” Naruto replies, he leans into Iruka, his voice low “Are you sure that’s your husband, Iruka-nii? He’s weird.”
“Don’t talk about him like that!” Sakura hits Naruto in the head again.
“I would if you’d stop hitting me!”
Iruka’s heart stopped. “How long was I out?”
“Huh?” Sakura tilted her head “Oh! Hatake-sama said you were out for five days and he decided to return you home!”
“And where is he?”
“Right here.” Iruka whips his head to see a man leaning on the door frame. He wore a light blue yukata, had white hair and his lower face was covered by a cloth. Naruto and Sakura sensed something with the sudden smell of lemongrass and cedar wood. Sakura grabbed Naruto's wrist and ran out of the room.
“You–”