I Shall Not Want

Part 2: Goodbye November, Hello Trouble


A few minutes after the bell for class has rung, the students are settled, and roll has been called, Iruka stands at the front of the room and claps his hands for attention. About half the class looks up at him. “I have an important announcement,” he says, and since he usually doesn't make declarations like that, a few more faces look over at him. “As of tomorrow, I will no longer be your instructor.” He takes a breath, but realizes he doesn't really have anything to follow that up with. He hasn't been told who his replacement will be, or whether the new instructor will be following his curriculum or not. Come to think of it, it might have been a better idea to have treated this as a normal day, and waited until class was almost out before informing his students of the change. Now he's not sure what to do, and the kids aren't going to see the point of having class with him if he's just going to be leaving. He's not sure he sees the point himself. He just wanted to have this last day with them, but that seems selfish, now. Perhaps he should send them home.

“What do you mean, Iruka-sensei?” asks a little doe-eyed Inuzuka girl named Shippo.

Iruka notes that he has everyone's full attention now. “Ah, well, I've...been promoted.” He smiles, leaning carefully on his podium, and resists the temptation to hide his fidgety hands in his pockets. “So someone else will be taking over my class for me.”

A few short years ago, such a pronouncement would have garnered admiration, even awe, would have perhaps been inspirational to some of the more ambitious children. But these days, even to these young ones, a promotion means that there's not enough meat at the top of the grinder, and someone has to fill in. It's very similar to war-time. Konoha has thus far avoided outright war—mostly due to their allies in Wind Country—but the mercenary machine is always running, and ninja are always dying, even though they can't be spared. If things keep going the way they are, the Academy will begin graduating genin prematurely, just to keep the ranks filled. That will be disastrous, and Iruka is prepared to fight that tooth and nail, whether he's got a post in the Academy or not.

These kids aren't ignorant of Konoha's situation, mostly because Iruka's kept them as informed as possible, so they know that in many instances a promotion isn't really something to celebrate. They mostly look surprised, confused, or angry, even sad. Some of them begin muttering to each other, and he waits for questions to start.

“Who will teach us?” one student inquires, after several seconds.

“I haven't been told,” Iruka admits. “I was only promoted this morning, so I don't have much information.”

“You're a jounin now, Iruka-sensei?” another asks.

“Tokubetsu jounin,” he corrects.

“Are you in ANBU, Sensei?” Shippo again.

He narrows his eyes at her. “Shippo-chan, you know better than to ask about that,” he says with quiet severity. She looks away, troubled.

“Are you happy about this promotion, Sensei?” asks the youngest member of the class, a tiny blond boy named Oni November. He's seven, and a true prodigy in every way. He reminds Iruka a lot of Kakashi, and Iruka often wonders if his partner was like November when he was that young. Of course, Kakashi had already been a chuunin for a year by age seven, but November probably would have been as well if his parents had not insisted he remain in the Academy. Iruka's not certain what their reasons were for keeping their son from earlier graduation, but he imagines they're not much different from most parents. This year November will have to be graduated; he already has enough knowledge and skill to rival any chuunin, so there's no justification for his being in school besides his youth. And youth won't save anyone, soon, if things progress the way Iruka fears they will.

Iruka shifts, resting his forearms on the podium, as he considers how to answer November's question. “I am happy that I am useful to my Hokage, and that she believes my abilities are befitting of a higher rank,” he says after a moment.

November raises a brow. “How diplomatic,” he says dryly. His mimicry of adulthood would be seamless if not for the high timbre of his boyish voice.

Iruka can hear the unspoken “Bullshit” underneath, even if the boy's not thinking it in that particular terminology, and his eyes crinkle with mirth. “Never underestimate diplomacy,” he responds, stepping out from behind the podium and crossing his arms. “It can save you a world of grief, you know.”

“Never underestimate the truth, Iruka-sensei,” November retorts.

“Sometimes the truth is none of your business.” Iruka says it more sharply than he intends to, causing some of the other students to look very uncomfortable.

November stands up and bows. “Pardon me, Sensei. I did not mean to pry, only to debate.”

They have had many debates; Iruka has always encouraged that in his students, even though it pisses a lot of people off—jounin sensei, most particularly, since they have to deal with the kids right after Iruka gets done with them. Iruka sighs. “No, it's alright, November-kun. Take your seat, please. There is really no reason for me to refuse to answer you.” The little blond sits again, looking up with pale blue eyes full of icy intelligence.

Iruka indulges in a brief pause to gather his thoughts. “I am not happy to be promoted, because I enjoy teaching, and these days jounin can't be spared for the Academy. I will miss all of you very much,” he says, looking around the room. He has to pause again to fight off tears. Really, he should have waited until the end of the day for this. “But I am a ninja first, before I am a teacher. I do what my Hokage needs me to do, because she is my commander, and because she is doing the best she can so that Konoha will survive these difficult times we are in. I respect and admire her very much, and I will abide by her decisions to the best of my ability.”

“You seem sincere, but that still sounds like diplomacy,” November comments doubtfully.

Iruka laughs a little. “Maybe, but not all diplomacy is a lie, November-kun. In fact, the best diplomacy is the truth, just perhaps not the whole truth.”

A child in the back row wrinkles her nose in thoughtful confusion. “Is that like when mom said the best lies are mostly truth?”

“Yes, it's very similar.”

“I don't want you to go, Iruka-sensei,” says a quiet voice near the window. Hyuuga Bren, who almost never speaks, looks up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Can't you just tell the Hokage you don't want a promotion?”

Iruka's voice fails him for a moment, and he curls his hands into fists and pulls himself together. “No, Bren-chan, I can't do that. The Hokage doesn't like to make her subordinates do things they don't want to do, but when you are the Hokage sometimes you have to. If I were to refuse to do as she has ordered, it would only make things difficult for everyone, and it would not end well. It would also be very selfish of me. A ninja cannot be selfish; the needs of the village always come first, and the needs of the village are determined by the Hokage and the Elder Council. This is how it is, when you are a ninja. You can't put yourself before the village, not ever. It isn't always fair, and sometimes it's very painful, but it is the life we've chosen. The sooner you understand that, the better.”

He sighs inwardly at the nodding heads—they've heard all this before, but not one of them truly comprehends it. They won't understand it until they have to make those choices over and over again: Konoha or my friends? Konoha or my lover? Konoha or my pride? Konoha or my life? Not much in the way of choices for a ninja, since the answer must always be the same, and there are times when the decision is so easy it doesn't even feel like choosing. At other times, the choice could rip them into pieces.

Civilian children stay in school until they are eighteen, and then some go on to universities of higher learning. They rarely have to make the kinds of sacrifices a ninja has to make, especially during their adolescence. Iruka has never been able to decide which system is really better. On one hand, civilians don't have to grow up so fast, civilian children don't have to be regularly forced into situations they can't possibly understand the ramifications of, don't have to walk with the shadow of death before they've really started to live, and they tend to live a lot longer. But on the other, civilians tend to be indolent, selfish and superficial, live by no particular code, and on the whole are sheep-like, going through life half-awake and unaware of the world, themselves or anyone else.

Well...perhaps that is a little unfair to Konoha's civilians, but that is definitely how it was in that lazy country in which he and Shiko so briefly took refuge from Kakashi, a few years back. A country with no ninja. A country where the only danger was internal, or manufactured in order to sway the opinion of the populace so that they'd buy a certain product or vote a certain way...it was insidious. Kunai and killing intent are so much easier to understand.

Iruka had really hated it there. Even if he had stayed with Shiko, there was no way he could have remained there much longer. Flawed as the ninja system might be, it is the system he belongs in.

Iruka pulls himself out of his musings and gazes at his unusually subdued students. He pulls on his most cheerful smile as he decides what to do with his class. “Well! Since today is my last day, we're going to forget about the test I told you about last week—don't look so relieved, Kageto-kun, because you'll still need to apply your knowledge of the readings I assigned. Shippo-chan, November-kun, Goro-kun, and...Motoko-chan, go to the supply annex and get all the practice weapons and armor, and meet us in the second field. We're going to do real battle simulations, and I want you all to show me everything you've learned.”

Now his kids look excited, and the mood is much improved as he herds them out to the field and the nearby patch of forest. He breaks them into teams, already imagining how he'd arrange them if they were graduated genin. His replacement will, no doubt, have different ideas about how to split them up...but he can't let himself worry about that.

Iruka keeps the exercises from deteriorating into a game through sheer force of will, being serious and shouting when he needs to, but the simulations are still a lot of fun. He laughs, teases, cajoles, harangues and comforts in turns, until his little pre-genin forces are behaving with the discipline of soldiers while wearing the smiles of kids on summer vacation.

He's not sure what Kakashi would have to say about that—however Kakashi might compliment him at times, Iruka knows his partner still believes Iruka and the Academy in general are too soft on the students. Iruka just doesn't think it's necessary to deprive the children of their smiles while they're still in school, when life will certainly do it for them soon enough.

All too quickly he realizes that it's an hour and a half past their usual lunchtime, and he's very surprised that not one of the kids has complained, though they don't object to him ending the simulations, either. He gathers the students near the building, having them sit in a semi-circle around him. He spends another half an hour treating their wounds—all superficial, fortunately—and giving them each a verbal evaluation. By the end of it his stomach is growling so insistently it's a wonder the kids aren't teasing him about it. After mentally reviewing his finances, he decides to forgo the refectory, and announces to his students that he's taking them all to lunch. They can go home early afterward, he says.

The ensuing cheers have Suzume-sensei sticking her head out of the window of her classroom, frowning severely. Iruka waves apologetically, and she shakes her head and disappears. Iruka feels a pang as he realizes that this is the last time he'll disturb her class, and wonders if she knows it too. It's not likely she would say anything about it even if she did.

After a brief argument, the kids decide on the barbecue place that Chouji, Shikamaru and Ino frequent. Luckily for Iruka there's an 'all-you-can-eat' special going on, so it won't even cost as much as he expected.

Rather predictably, after they get settled, taking up every available table, Shikamaru and Chouji walk in. Chouji looks so devastated at the prospect of having to wait for a table that Iruka takes pity on him, and has the students at his table make room for them.

“You're such a pain, Chouji,” Shikamaru says as he sits down, nodding his thanks to Iruka.

“Heheh...sorry about this, Iruka-sensei,” Chouji says, looking at the same time genuinely abashed and magnificently hungry.

Iruka waves away the apology. “Just make sure to leave the kids enough to eat,” he says lightly, smirking as the students sitting near Chouji eye the huge man with suspicion. For all Chouji's big, beautiful heart, he can be kind of a greedy bastard about food. He might not go so far as to take candy from a baby, but he'd sit and drool in the baby's face while it ate, until the baby decided enough was enough and handed the candy over of its own volition.

“I'll keep him under control, Sensei,” Shikamaru assures him.

Iruka's not sure any force on Earth can 'control' a hungry Akimichi, but if anyone can keep Chouji in check, it's Shikamaru. With back-up from the six starving students at their table, it should be fine.

Lunch turns out to be just as enjoyable as the hours preceding it. Iruka stays mostly quiet, listening to Chouji give the students stern, passionate lectures about barbecue etiquette. When that topic wears itself out, Chouji regales them all with tales of yore, when the former Team Ten used to be treated to barbecue by the late Sarutobi Asuma, with the occasional observation or correction from Shikamaru and peanut gallery comments from the students.

As the afternoon wears on and the rapacious devouring slows to a leisurely grazing (except for Chouji, of course, who never slows down), the tales gradually shift into a bard-like epic of the Heroic Exploits of Nara Shikamaru, for whom Chouji quite obviously has an admiration bordering on hero-worship. Iruka is thoroughly amused by Shikamaru's futile efforts to play down his role in Chouji's version of events as he goes through the Ill-Fated Chuunin Exam, the Failed Retrieval of Uchiha Sasuke, the Avenging of Asuma, the Case of Jiraiya's Mysterious Final Message and many other subsequent events. Finally Shikamaru gives up and lets Chouji run on as he will, his arms crossed and a look on his face that wants to be a frown, but is equal parts annoyance, embarrassment, pride and affection.

Chouji is a very engaging storyteller, and half the students are gazing at Shikamaru with awe, whispering to each other around their chopsticks, while the others are looking up to Iruka as if for confirmation. “It's all true,” he says to them gravely, biting back a laugh at Shikamaru's 'don't encourage them' glare. “Shikamaru-san is a very admirable ninja.”

November, sitting on Iruka's right, looks suspicious. “I've seen him lying on the training field for hours, doing nothing but watching clouds. How is that admirable?”

“Right, right,” Shikamaru concurs. “Being admirable would be far too much work, Iruka-sensei.” There is a hint of a warning in his tone that implies he gets talked up far too much by Chouji already, and if Iruka starts impugning his lazy reputation too, he's going to have to take measures.

Not at all intimidated, Iruka smiles beatifically. “A good ninja takes his rest and leisure when he can. Remember, I know all of your abilities quite well, and there isn't one of you here who could best Shikamaru-san in either a physical fight or a battle of wits, and that includes you, November-kun. Shikamaru-san deserves your respect.”

November looks thoughtful at that, and joins some of the other children in giving Shikamaru assessing glances, as though considering challenging him in the future. Which is, of course, exactly what Iruka was going for. He raises his brow almost imperceptibly at the dark scowl Shikamaru throws him, as if to say, 'your move'. He really should know better than to play with a brilliant tactician like this, but after years of Shougi with Sandaime, and especially after the few years he's lived with Kakashi, this sort of teasing is second nature.

Chouji hasn't missed a single nuance of this exchange, and laughs heartily as he swipes the last of his meat from the hibachi.

Shikamaru's expression melts from irritated to amused. “You're trouble, Iruka-sensei,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I never would have guessed. Nothing but trouble.”

“I could have told you that,” November pipes in, to Iruka's astonishment.


***


After paying for lunch for everyone—including, at his own insistence, Shikamaru and Chouji—and exiting the restaurant, it is time to say goodbye to his class. His haze of good cheer drains away as he looks down at their sad faces, though he refuses to stop smiling.

“Now, don't be sad,” he admonishes them brightly. “If you train hard, develop your abilities and graduate, we might be able to serve on missions together.” He knows this isn't likely now unless they become ANBU, but says it anyway. “So do your best for your new instructor! You've all come a long way; I'm very proud of you, and I'm proud to have been your sen—” His voice finally cracks and he clamps his lips shut, clenching his teeth. His eyes burn as he notices some of the students are quietly crying, and he lowers his gaze to the ground. “I'm so proud to have been your sensei,” he finishes softly.

Bren is, oddly enough, the first to leap on him, arms latched tight around his waist, sobbing into his stomach. She's the most demonstrative Hyuuga he's ever come across, he thinks distantly. He kneels down and his students surge forward. He allows them to maul him with affection, tears and snot, making sure to separate them each from the mob and hug them individually.

Only November does not cry and does not join the group, choosing instead to bide his time on the sidelines. He obviously wants to say something privately.

When Iruka has said his last goodbye to his class and sent them each on their way, wiping at the tears he doesn't know when he started to cry, he turns to November and smiles. “November-k—”

“I'll definitely serve under you,” November interrupts, his voice more earnest than Iruka's ever heard it. “I'm taking the chuunin exam this year. You know I'll pass it, so I'll be your subordinate before you know it.”

There's really no question about whether November will graduate or not, so Iruka doesn't point out that the kid needs to become a genin first. He also can't mention that he's in ANBU, so the chances of them serving together are very small unless November becomes ANBU, but November has the kind of talent, ambition and calculating coldness that makes ANBU membership almost a foregone conclusion anyway. “I have no doubt you will, November-kun,” he says, with no qualifiers about how November still has a long way to go or that he shouldn't get ahead of himself. He knows it won't give November a swelled head like it would have if he'd said it to, say, a pre-genin Naruto.

“I'll pull whatever strings I need to pull, so...”

Iruka almost laughs, raising a brow instead. “I don't know if those kinds of strings exist these days.”

November's eyes turn fierce. “I'll make the strings,” he growls fervently. “So stay alive, okay? Until we can look out for each other.”

Iruka is looking straight into November's eyes as he speaks, and for a moment there something old and despairing in those seven-year-old orbs that reminds him so much of Kakashi that his legs get shaky. As far as he knows, November hasn't suffered any great tragedy yet in his short life, so he has no idea where this is coming from.

He bends down and puts his hands on November's deceptively thin shoulders. “You know that no ninja can promise to live, November-kun. But I will fight for my life with all my strength, you can count on that. So you do the same, and I'll be proud to serve with you, when it's time.”

Even as that awful misery fades from November's gaze, his frosty blue eyes fill up with tears, and now he looks like he's seven again. In a childish gesture very remarkable for him, November holds his arms up in a silent plea. Iruka picks him up without even thinking about it, holding him tight as the boy clings to him with arms and legs, sniffling softly into his vest.

Iruka stands there for several minutes, ignoring passers-by, stroking November's fine light hair until the boy's shuddering subsides. Finally November pushes away from him, dropping his legs, and Iruka sets him down. The boy seems awfully embarrassed, unable to meet Iruka's eyes. Iruka sympathizes; for November, that was quite a spectacular display of emotion. He reaches out and ruffles the kid's hair, earning a glare that at least focuses on Iruka's face. “Take care, November-kun,” he says.

November nods stiffly, smiles a little smile that just barely reaches his red-rimmed eyes, and walks away with as much dignity as he can muster.

As Iruka watches him go, he hears a voice behind him say, “I think he wants to marry you when he grows up.”

Iruka snorts. “I've had seven-year-olds propose to me before, believe it or not, but I don't think November-kun has marriage to anyone in mind.”

Shikamaru takes a step forward to stand beside him. “Oh, I believe it. Like I said, you're nothing but trouble, Iruka-sensei. Worse than a woman, even.”

“How is Temari-san, then?” asks Iruka with a smirk.

Shikamaru scoffs. “Why is it that whenever I mention that women are troublesome, everyone thinks I mean Temari? There are other women in the world, you know.”

“Are there, now?” Iruka gives Shikamaru a sidelong glance, one side of his mouth pulling up slyly.

He gets an incredulous stare, before Shikamaru shakes his head and gazes up at the clouds. “No, I suppose you're right,” he says after a moment. “She is the only woman in the world.” He crosses his arms and looks back down at Iruka. “But my point is, you are troublesome. I would ask how Kakashi puts up with you, but if there's anyone in the village more troublesome than you, it's definitely him.” He pauses. “And Naruto. Maybe Guy, but he's a whole different breed altogether.”

Laughing, Iruka replies, “Well, you were plenty of trouble for me yourself, when you were my student, Shikamaru-kun.”

Shikamaru puts his hands in his pockets. “Ah, I suppose I was, Sensei. You headed home?” Iruka nods. “I'll walk with you.”

Iruka interprets that to mean he has something else he wants to talk about. Most likely the promotion. Being a jounin and a close advisor to the Hokage, he probably knew about Iruka's promotion before Iruka did.

“Sure,” Iruka says, falling into step beside his former student. They walk in silence for a few minutes. Iruka notices the glances they get as they walk, and thinks, not for the first time, how funny it is that he and Shikamaru have ended up looking so much alike. They aren't related even distantly, except perhaps in the way that all creatures great and small are related. Yet unless one looks for Iruka's scar or Shikamaru's jagged hairline, darker hair, earring or perpetually half-mast eyelids, it's difficult to tell them apart. They didn't even look alike as children, so Iruka's not sure how it happened. Genetics are a mystery. Having the same hairstyle all the time doesn't really help, he thinks wryly. Luckily for Shikamaru, Kakashi's a master of reading chakra signatures, and the soul-bond reacts slightly with very close proximity, so there've never been any embarrassing moments of mistaken identity.

That Iruka knows about, anyway.

He shakes himself from his pondering when Shikamaru starts speaking. “So I hear you're one of us now, Sensei.”

Iruka raises a brow, thinking that's an odd way for him to put it. “Konoha ninja are all 'one of us', aren't they, Shikamaru?” he asks. “Not just jounin.” He doesn't bother making the distinction between tokubetsu jounin and jounin, because most of the time the line is very fine. Technically, tokubetsu jounin are a lower rank than jounin, but while the gap between chuunin and jounin can be pretty wide, the gap between jounin and tokubetsu jounin can be nonexistent. Just look at Morino Ibiki; he commands ANBU, and there's not a jounin alive who would disobey an order from that man.

“I wasn't talking about being jounin, Dagon,” Shikamaru says quietly.

Iruka can't help freezing for just an instant. He can tell there's no one within hearing range, but he's still surprised Shikamaru would bring this up outside, technically in public. Though he's not surprised to learn that Shikamaru is ANBU. “Is this really a good time to discuss this?”

Shikamaru shrugs. “I'm more careful than I look, Iruka-sensei.”

“I know you are,” Iruka says, but his voice sounds doubtful.

When he looks over again, Shikamaru's not beside him anymore. He feels around a little with his chakra, and jumps onto the roof of the building on his right. Shikamaru's arms are crossed, neck craned back and eyes on the sky as usual.

“Better?” Shikamaru asks.

Iruka refrains from rolling his eyes. “Not really, but I trust in your discretion. Is there a reason you're bringing this up, besides letting me know that you know?”

“Kakashi's really upset. For him, I mean.”

The hairs on the back of Iruka's neck stand up. Kakashi had seemed okay that morning—well, not okay, really, but like he'd be able to make it through the day, at least. “Shit. He...was he upset publicly? He didn't scream at the Hokage, did he? Maybe I shouldn't have gone to school today after all...”

“No, Naruto did all the screaming before Kakashi even got there.” Shikamaru chuckles. “I was helping Sakura with some research just down the hall, so I heard everything pretty clearly. I wouldn't be surprised if people in Earth Country know how upset he is about you being made to leave the Academy. He made such a ruckus and called Tsunade-sama so many names that she threw a full bottle of sake at him and broke his cheekbone.”

Iruka gasps. “Is he—”

Shikamaru waves his hands in front of him. “He's fine, Sensei. She healed him right away, in her office, cursing up a storm the entire time. And quit feeling guilty,” he says sharply.

Iruka notices that he's just barely cringing inward, and forces himself to straighten up with a sigh. “I know Naruto's reaction was inevitable, but I still hope he'll learn to control his righteous impulsiveness one day.”

“Naruto's never been known for being sensible, and he never will, Iruka-sensei. It's not your fault. In fact, any sense that guy has probably comes from you.”

Iruka keeps the blush off his face at the compliment. He's developed far more control over his emotions and his facial expressions than he used to have, though his control is still far from perfect. “Well, as long as he hasn't gotten himself demoted or exiled, I suppose I can stand it.”

“Nah, Tsunade-sama was prepared for his onslaught. She's just been under too much pressure lately, or she wouldn't have snapped like that. Maybe. She is awfully violent, even at the best of times,” he mutters.

Iruka puts aside his concern about his favorite former student. “So what happened with Kakashi?”

Shikamaru looks hesitant, and when he speaks his voice is almost too low for Iruka to hear. “That's less straightforward, naturally. He came into the Tower pretty soon after Naruto left, looking normal. You know, indifferent, reading porn. He was in her office a while, and I didn't hear anything. Sakura and I were waiting at the door to go over our findings with Tsunade-sama when he came out.”

Iruka is surprised when Shikamaru can't suppress a shudder. “What happened?”

“He...looked like his usual self, calm and relaxed, but there was something...” He shakes his head. “It wasn't killing intent; it was worse. I've never felt anything like it before. It was like being sucked into a nightmare dimension; I wanted to run away screaming. Neither Sakura nor I could stop shaking, not for a long time, even after he left. And Kakashi, he...” Shikamaru hesitates.

His insides twisting with fear, Iruka grabs Shikamaru's arm and gives it a shake. “What, Shikamaru?”

“Tsunade-sama came after him as he was leaving, told him to wait a minute and put a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and...yanked his mask down...he grabbed her face and kissed her, full on the lips. Really hard.”

Iruka drops his hand from Shikamaru's arm. His whole body feels numb, like he's gone into shock. “Kissed...?”

Shikamaru shakes himself and glares at Iruka. “The only thing about it that resembled a normal kiss in any way, Sensei, was that their mouths were in contact, so don't get jealous. You've heard of the Kiss of Death, haven't you? I always thought that was just a stupid melodramatic expression, but it's not. You don't ever want to see it performed, I promise you. Even Tsunade-sama... after he walked away, she was so pale. She looked like she was about to cry, as if the rest of it wasn't scary enough. She went back in her office after a minute, and for the rest of the morning at least until I left, she wouldn't come out or let anyone in.”

Iruka puts his face in his hands and breathes deeply for a few moments, then drops his arms and peers into Shikamaru's eyes. “You're certain this is about me being assigned to ANBU?”

“It's the only thing that makes sense. I talked to Ibiki-san about it, too, and he agrees.”

“Shit, shit, shit. He's going to get himself locked up again,” Iruka mutters.

“Ibiki-san has a guard on him already, but he's hoping you can keep Kakashi sane enough to stay on duty. He's on damn thin ice, though.” Shikamaru sighs. “If we weren't in such dire need of new ANBU, you'd never have been assigned to us, you know. Not that you're less than capable, Sensei, but—”

“Believe me, Shikamaru, I understand. I'd better get home and see what damage control I can manage.” He briefly clasps Shikamaru's shoulder. “Thanks for telling me. Um...Sakura and Tsunade-sama, are they alright, do you think?”

“I don't know. Tsunade-sama's still in her office, for all I know. Sakura went to find Naruto when I left to consult Ibiki, so she's probably okay.” Shikamaru sighs at Iruka's worried frown. “I'll go back to the Tower and check on Tsunade-sama, and I'll find Sakura and make sure she's fine, so you just worry about Kakashi, Iruka-sensei.”

Iruka smiles half-heartedly. “Thanks, Shikamaru. How about you, are you fine?”

“Yeah, lunch took my mind off things. You and Chouji ganging up on me like that, how could I think about anything else?”

“Only you would see that as 'ganging up'.”

“Later, Iruka-sensei,” Shikamaru bids, smirking.

Iruka nods, and takes off across the rooftops. Apprehension settles over him like a straitjacket as he wonders about what he will find when he gets home.