Becoming Hokage Side Story

Title: Becoming Hokage
Side Story: 3 Setting up the main story, they are in chronological order
Author: Phoenix
Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto. I am poor. This fic is for entertainment only.
Pairing: None Focus is Iruka-sensei
Rating: R for violence and evil people
Warnings: Torture, evil people, plotting Orochimaru, blood, despair, dark, and I wrote it. Can’t deal? Don’t read.

Iruka-sensei was a gentle man. His students had never seen him spill a single drop of blood. If he raised his voice, it did not hold malice or violence. Of all the people of the Leaf Clan village, their teacher was the kindest, sweetest person they knew. The only ninja who probably had never taken a life or desired too. Thus it was with something akin to shock his students watched him deal with the foreign ninjas.

As for Iruka, the young teacher knew he was out matched as he looked over the five masked men filling the hallway. The weakest one’s chakra was at least twice his. These men were killers, sent to seek out and end the life of anyone they found. The strong and weak. Young and old. And now they had found the village’s children.

“Leave,” Iruka growled, trying very hard to appear confident and unconcerned.

“Or what, Little Teacher?” The closest one sneered. He must be the leader, however, nothing more than his voice set him apart from the others physically. “Will you fight us?”

“How did you know…?”

“We know all about you, Gentle Iruka. Our Master is very thorough.”

At the mention of Orochimaru, the dolphin-sensei’s stomach dropped. “Then you know I will not let you pass.” He drew his weapons and took a defensive stance.

“Stand aside, Little Teacher, and we will make your death quick. Fight us and your ears will echo with the screams of children for hours before I grant you an end.”

Without uttering a word, Iruka charged. It was not the start of the real fight; more a testing of opponents, yet even then he learned quickly how badly he was outmatched. In less than a minute more than a dozen shallow cut were opened along his skin while he managed to make one strike: a long cut he lhe leader’s right hand; one lucky shot Iruka didn’t think he could repeat. Then the combatants sprang apart, Iruka landing in front of the children, blood soaked, panting.

“You will pay for this, Little Teacher.” The first man smiled coldly while holding up his injured hand. “Those kids will be serenaded by your howls of pain before they die.”

“Go into the back room,” Iruka ordered his charges. “Lock the door and do not open it.”

There was no need to tell them “until I come for you.” He wasn’t. The very best Iruka could hope to accomplish would be delaying these killers long enough for someone else to arrive. A soft click told him everyone was a safe as possible; which actually didn’t mean much. That door would not hold for but a few seconds. He had to hang on as long as possible.

“We will show you what real ninjas can do, Little Teacher.” And with a gesture, the leader set his men on Iruka.

They played with him; sharp blades sliced through skin and clothing until the teacher was wearing hardly anything other than crimson rags. In and out the foreign warriors danced around him. Always just outside his own blade until time began to play tricks on Iruka. Seconds seemed like hours. Minutes were weeks. The fight lasted through eternity. Then longer. Yet he forced leaden limbs to continue moving. Block, attack, block. Always too slow.

At last, fatigue caused Iruka to slip. Just once. Not very much, but it was all they needed; their fun was over. A hand gripped his hair, forcing his head back as the others seized his arms, sweeping his legs from under him. Dripping sweat, gasping for breath, bleeding from numerous wounds, Iruka defiantly glared at the men while trapped kneeling.

“You have spirit, Iruka-sensei,” the leader said quietly. A touch of admiration laced his voice. “You actually made us sweat a bit. No one else in this pathetic village managed that.”

“You should leave,” Iruka tried to growl. Yet all he could get out were words tinged with desperation and terror. Once he was dead, they would move on to the children. There had to be a way out of this. “The others will be here soon and they are far more powerful than I.”

Instead of inspiring fear, the words brought forth peals of laughter. “Do you believe any others still live? You are the last guardian, Beautiful Iruka. The very last.”

“No,” he moaned. It couldn’t be true. Not all of them. A few must be alive. Kakashi for certain. And Gai would never die before Kakashi. However, doubt had already begun to spread deep within his mind. Orochimaru was too smart to leave such deaths to chance. Could he really be the last Leaf Clan ninja alive?

“In honor of your surprising strength, we will do something special for you. We’ll treat you like a true enemy, worthy of respect, and a magnificent death.”

Before Iruka could respond, he felt the first blade sink into his back. The cut wasn’t deep, but then it wasn’t a killing blow; it was meant to hurt. Lines of fiery agony laced the young teacher’s flesh. He bit back screams, struggling with every ounce of remaining energy to escape their grasp. They were so much stronger than he, though.

“Scream for us, Little Teacher. Serenade your students. Let them hear how beautiful you sound.”

The blades dug deeper, blood flowing freely down his back, arms, legs. Unable to keep fighting and silence his howls of agony, Iruka turned his remaining energy to defying his captors and denying them the cries they wanted. His defiance did nothing more than amuse them.

“So strong for one so weak.” A hand under his chin forced him to look up; dark, cruel eyes looked down at him with a kind of lust. “You will beg to die. I promise.”

If Iruka thought things had been bad previously, the foreign ninjas showed him how wrong he was. One of them rubbed a powdery substance over his back. It burned like real fire; seemingly entering his blood through the wounds, burning him inside out. Another opened a bottle and poured a liquid over his chest bringing the same result.

Suddenly all thoughts of his students, the village, or hoping for rescue fled. All he could manage was to scream. A desperate, monstrous sound. Like an animal caught in pain beyond bearing yet unable to end it. The ones holding him let go and Iruka only used his hands to claw at his skin. He tried to run from the horrible pain, but his legs would not support him and he collapsed. Writhing on the ground, Iruka was no longer a Leaf Clan ninja; nor was he a teacher; even knowing he was human could not be grasped. There was only one thing he knew: suffering. Endless. Unreasoning. It devoured all his strength and determination. Destroyed any defiance or will left. There were no words for the feeling ripping apart his consciousness. All he could do was scream helplessly, unable to gain even a moment’s rest as his voice spiraled higher while new levels of pain.

How long he screamed didn’t matter to Iruka. It was too much to have felt it for a single second. Eventually his voice became hoarse and faded. His mind started shutting down to protect him from the shock of what was happening.

Whatever caused the molten fire in his blood to burn lost power. Slowly, the world took shape again; however, this time, the man laying curled in on himself thought nothing. His name was gone as was his purpose. A phrase was at the edge of his mind, but something held him back. There was a reason not to speak. What was it?

“Is it not glorious, Lovely Iruka?” Words floated in the hallway without meaning to the whimpering man. Who was Iruka? “The way the pain strips away everything? Our Master wanted to be here when you died, to tell you why he wanted this, yet your Hokage was more important. You’re so beautiful like this. I can see why someone like Kakashi would cast his eyes toward you.” A bottle was lowered before the hurting man’s eyes. Weakly he tried to crawl away; the standing ninja blocked his way once more showing him the blank bottle. Memory told him it was thing to be feared for it held the liquid that consumed him.

“No,” he sobbed, trembling. “No more.”

“Do you want to die, Gentle Teacher?” The ninja sounded so kind. No contempt or disgust tainted his voice. “You’ve lasted longer than many. There is no shame in begging now. None have ever withstood a second touch.”

“Please.”

“Beg me, Lovely. Beg me for death and I promise it will be painless.”

The man hesitated. Wasn’t there a reason why he couldn’t speak those words? An important something?

“If you do not speak, I will have to continue.” The bottle’s stopper was removed.

“No.” The man forced himself to his knees. “Please, please kill me. Don’t do that a. P. Please anything but that.”

He couldn’t go through that again. Kami-sama, please don’t let them do that to him again. Tears began to create streaks in the blood on his face.

“Shh,” the leader soothed as he brushed away the tears with a surprisingly soft touch. Cold metal pressed against his captive’s throat. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

The man closed his eyes and waited. Instead of feeling a blade slicing his throat, sound filled his ears. Opening his eyes treated him to the sight of a sliver-haired angel and a fiery-eyed demon killing his tormentors. The pair were unstoppable, tearing through all the men as if they were mere shadows.

Seconds after he first saw them, no one except he and they lived. Their attention turned to him and fear erupted in the wounded man. Were they going to hurt him? Could it be any worse than before? Yes. Before his torturers had been human. What kind of pain could monsters inflict? He had to escape.

Unfortunately, the moment he moved, the silver-haired one captured him in arms too powerful to escape. A whimper escaped his bloody lips.

“Iruka? Iruka? Are you alright?” The voice was actually rather nice.

“What did they do to him?” The second monster was so expressive; his face mimicked concern wonderfully. “What should we do?”

What should they do? “Please don’t hurt me anymore.” He rasped.

“Iruka?” The arms around him tightened, setting off yet more pain. Too much. More than he could take. Sighing gratefully, the man who had been called Iruka fell away into darkness and prayed never to awaken.