Broken Mask

He hated them, all of them. With their condescending smiles and eyes that judged him, judged him unworthy, scum, useless, waist of space. Yet he continued to walk among them smiling as they belittled his abilities, laughed as they cruelly tore his life to shreds with mocking words and disdainful glances. He protected them even as they laughed behind his back. And through it all he smiled and laughed, grinned and joked because that was what they expected of him. Defenseless, senseless Iruka, the lowly Chunnin just barely good enough to teach the children. And even as they mocked and crowed they expected him to love this village that had turned its back on him left him on his own since the death of his parents. It had been because of this village that he had been left an orphan and it was because of this village that he so often thought of the sweet everlasting grasp of death that would hold him in the comforting darkness that meant he never had to wake again.

Everyday he’d wake up and look at the kunai on his bed stand before picking it up and placing the tip just above his wrist, and every day he would shake his head before placing the kunai back in its spot to await the ritual the next morning always hoping for the day he would have the strength to push the kunai into his flesh and see the red of blood before he slept for eternity. But it had yet to happen and, despite his apathy despite his need for release his love for the blackness of sleep and yearning for the cold embrace of Death, he knew it would not happen for a while to come. He would have to wait for the cold bite of steel he so yearned for, he just didn’t know how long.

So he got up in the morning and just before he left his small barren apartment, devoid of pictures or treasures or knickknacks, he would pull up his mask. The same mask he had hidden behind since he saw the Kyuubi tear his parents apart like so much paper. A mask that was not physical like the Hatake’s but a mask of joy and cheer, of contentment and kindness. A mask that hid his thoughts from the rest of the villagers and shinobi alike, this mask that deflected the torturous words and whispers and looks of everyone around him. He would pull this mask up and walk outside his apartment smiling and whistling and happy to be on his way to the academy while inside he calculated just how long it would take him to get back home, how many more disappointments he would have to live through.

He had used to love teaching but now it was a chore rather than an enjoyment. He had wanted to be able to share his knowledge with the next generation but all they wanted was glory. They wanted to be heroes and have everyone else falling at their feet but Iruka knew that would never happen, not for them. If they didn’t come back to reality they would all die on the field, just like all the others. The Nara who never stayed awake long enough to even hear Iruka’s morning greeting, the Akamichi that was too busy eating to care, the Uchiha too wrapped up in himself, Haruno and Yamanaka too interested in the Uchiha to be of any use. And then Uzumaki and Inuzuka always up to their games and pranks but never listening, at least that helped them hone their evasion skills. But not one of them cared to really listen to Iruka’s words or warnings. He wasn’t important enough, strong enough, worthy enough.


But above teaching he hated the other shinobi who treated him like dirt on their shoes. These Shinobi whom he was supposed to work with, fight side-by-side with, and yet to them he had less use than the civilians who were told to hide in times of troubles. Even the genin mocked and ridiculed him because as soon as they left the academy they started on missions and thought themselves so great. They were nothing. They had never experienced war or famine, they knew nothing of the deaths of comrades, the feeling of blood on your hands.


But Iruka could still remember it. He could still remember what it felt like to take another’s life and feel nothing as their lifeless body slumped to the ground beneath you. It wasn’t everyone who could survive in ANBU and Iruka was only one of the broken who had escaped. But he was also one of the youngest, right up there with Hatake Kakashi, not that anyone knew or cared enough to know. He had been one of the Silencers in ANBU, a special side group made specifically for assassinations. Iruka had been perfect for the job. He was good at going unnoticed in any situation and it had only led to him acquiring more and more missions untill he had almost broken under the strain. And still no one noticed. No one cared. Because he wasn’t worth the time, hadn’t been strong enough. He was too pathetic and weak and useless and, and, and nothing. He was nothing.


And so here he sat after a day of strain and disappointment, that was the same as every day before it, getting drunk. It wasn’t something that Iruka indulged in often and it wasn’t something Iruka actually enjoyed but sometimes he needed the extra help to live through the next day. Smirking self-deprecatingly he threw back another glass of whiskey shuddering slightly at the burn and then the warmth that flooded him afterwards. It had been so long since he had really been warm. He always felt frozen, a barren tundra in the middle of winter with not even a single bug able to survive its punishing winds. So the warmth induced from alcohol was a relief whenever he did decide to indulge. It wasn’t like he was short of money though. He didn’t spend it on frivolous useless things nor did he go out with friends, as if he had any, or out to restaurants. He barely even bought any food often too tired or apathetic to eat anything. So he had money to spare, lots of it and sometimes he did this. Came to a random bar sat in the darkest corner of the room and got absolutely smashed.


Iruka was a quiet drunk. He didn’t start shouting, or making a fool of himself, no he sat quietly where he was and reminisced. Or actually he brooded as much as he hated the word, as closely as he tied it to the Uchiha. He didn’t cause any problems though, Iruka never caused problems. Just as often as people ignored him Iruka tried to blend in with the background, tried to become like the furniture: not really thought of but noticed when gone. And yet he yearned for someone to see him. Wanted desperately for someone to care enough to break through his mask, to tear down the walls he kept up around him. Iruka snorted in disgust at his own thoughts, if he really wanted that he should just drop the damned mask not wallow away in misery. And yet Iruka knew he would never be able to do away with his masks. Not without the help of another.

“Are you drunk?” The question shocked Iruka back to reality and he looked up his milk chocolate eyes meeting harlequin green orbs that almost seemed to glow in the low lighting of the bar. “You don’t seem to be having a good time with it.” The stranger stated sitting on the other side of the table from Iruka grinning. Black-blue hair was pulled up in a high pony-tail and a lightning bolt scar started above his right eye before crossing down and through the left which was covered in an emerald green sash that wrapped around the stranger’s head. He wore no hitai-ate so he was no ninja yet the way he moved seemed far too predatory for him to be a civilian. His clothing also wasn’t the regular civilian garb, instead he was fitted in black leggings and an imperial red mesh shirt that did nothing to hide his scars.

“Are you a civilian?” Iruka asked surprisingly clear for his state on drunkenness.

The stranger chuckled and something dark flashed through his harlequin orbs as his smile turned almost vicious.

“Yes,” he purred and Iruka found it hard to believe the creature across from him was a civilian but Iruka prided himself on knowing all of the active shinobi and this wasn’t one of them. Maybe he was a former shinobi?

“This is a shinobi bar.” Iruka stated surprised at just how coherent he was being maybe he wasn’t drunk yet. Iruka lifted his glass to take another drink stopping in shock when he realized there was nothing left in it that solved his question: he was definitely drunk.

“Yep and you are far too drunk to still be here.” The man stated smiling at him. Iruka looked for a condescending tone in his voice or mocking shadow to his smile but could find nothing. ‘I must be more drunk than I had thought.’ Iruka sighed leaning back in his chair.


“Why do you care?” Iruka asked not having the strength to pull up his normal mask even though he knew he would be berating himself for this slip up latter, once he wasn’t so drunk.


“Let’s just say I’m a good citizen and leave it at that.” The man said standing. Iruka snorted and the man grinned at him his one eye shinning. “I’m Haru by the way Haru Lupin-Black.”


“Iruka,” Iruka muttered feeling oddly at ease with this man, Haru. Something about him seemed to connect with Iruka but that couldn’t be right, Iruka hid far too much to connect with anyone much less a stranger. But maybe this man had as much to hide as Iruka, looking into Haru’s eyes Iruka could see the mask there as well and suddenly felt completely relaxed, they both had the same mask. “Umino Iruka.”


Haru grinned helping Iruka up from his chair and draping the man’s arm over his shoulders. “Well Umino Iruka I don’t know where you live and you don’t seem sober enough to tell me so I’ll just bring you back to my apartment and we can settle this then. I just hope you don’t have to do anything tomorrow.” Haru added as an after though looking at his completely smashed companion.


Iruka didn’t remember the walk to Haru’s apartment but he did remember being laid down on a bed and falling asleep. And surely the whispered “Sweet dreams,” followed by a chaste kiss to his forehead was a dream and not reality. But as the darkness of sleep began to grip him he had the sudden feeling that everything was about to change and maybe, just maybe, this time it would be a good change.

Haru wasn’t sure why he had brought the man, Umino Iruka, to his apartment. All he knew was that he couldn’t leave someone to suffer alone as he had seen Iruka doing in the corner of the bar. The second he had started talking to Iruka the other man had pulled up a mask so similar to the one Haru wore every day that he hadn’t been able to stop himself from acting. He knew exactly how much it hurt to hold that mask up when no one noticed; it was a lonely existence and not one he would ever wish upon another person, especially not one who had kind eyes like Iruka. Haru sighed quietly his eyes flicking to his sofa where Iruka lay before he turned back to the dishes he was cleaning, again. Haru always cleaned when he was nervous or tired or bored or…well he cleaned a lot and it was a distraction that he needed right now.


It had been exceedingly reckless for him to bring an unknown ninja into his house and he wasn’t sure if he had done the right thing or not. ‘My hero complex is showing again.’ He thought wryly shaking his head in a dark sort of amusement. It was this aspect of himself that had always gotten Haru into trouble. He just hoped that this bought of insanity wouldn’t land him in any type of hospital like all the other times had. But Iruka had looked so broken in the corner of the bar, all by himself while all the other resident shinobi had had drinking partners. None of the shinobi had even thrown Iruka a glance. It was almost like Iruka had had a notice-me-not charm on him but Haru would have felt it if magic was used. Haru’s only conclusion is that it was so ingrained in the psyches of the resident shinobi that Iruka could never be a threat that they didn’t even register as a being anymore. That more than anything infuriated Haru beyond belief. He could tell just by looking at Iruka that the ninja could take on all of them and still escape relatively unscathed, Iruka’s specialty was evasion but it seemed only he noticed it.


Finishing with the dishes Haru moved to Iruka’s side brushing hair from the man’s face and smiling gently at the peaceful look that had taken up residence there. It wasn’t too late to save this man like it was for Haru. Haru had long ago accepted his place in this world, he was a helper a caregiver meant to love but never be loved in return. And here was another soul he could save even though the price to him would be high. Iruka was a beautiful man and in a different world with a different Haru this would even be the sort of man he would have taken a physical liking to. But no Haru was too broken, too ugly to ever attract a man like him and the thought never even crossed Haru’s mind. He never thought of things that would only cause him more suffering in the end.


Shaking his head of all those annoying thoughts Haru turned away from the pretty man on his couch and began to make breakfast deciding to add a hangover potion to his guest’s tea when he awoke. It was no fun talking to people that only grunted in reply, he’d had enough of that with his uncle.


Iruka groaned when he woke up dearly wishing that he hadn’t drank so much the night before. Opening his eyes just barely Iruka was surprised to see that there was little light in his room, usually he would have been blinded by the light streaming in from the window. Blinking his eyes fully open Iruka was shocked to see that he had woken up in an apartment that was not his own. He was lying on a rather comfortable burgundy sofa in what could only be a living room. The walls were a comforting orange-amber colour and the windows, that should have been blinding him, were covered with imperial red curtains leaving the room to glow in soft reddish light. The sofa he was laying on was a lighter shade of orange from the wall so that it was almost a cream colour but not quite. All in all it was a rather expensive looking room and the wood flooring was impeccably clean.


Actually everything was impeccably clean in the room. There weren’t even any dust motes floating around in the air. Whose ever apartment this was either never spent time here or was an obsessive cleaner. Iruka was almost positive that his apartment hadn’t been this clean when he bought it. Standing up Iruka was rather shocked to see that not only had his sandals been removed but so had the rest of his clothes; he was now wearing someone else’s sleeping wear.


He was in a silky black outfit with a strange badge-like insignia on the left bottom of the top and, looking down to check, the left bottom of the pants too. However the motion wasn’t a good one and Iruka grabbed his head groaning as the hangover headache reasserted itself rather noticeably. A soft chuckle had Iruka spinning around only to crash to the floor as he lost his balance.


The man, who had been laughing at him moments before, placed the tray he was holding on a side table Iruka had overlooked and hurried around quickly to help Iruka to his feet. “I’m so sorry,” the man stated smiling as he pulled Iruka up with one hand.
The first thing Iruka notice about him was the red cloth that wrapped around his head and covered one eye, he was sure that it had been green last night. Looking down Iruka realized that the man, whose name seemed to elude him, was in different clothing as well. Where before he had been in tight fitting black leggings and a red mesh shirt he now wore thin zaffre blue pants that looked as if they were made of the lightest material and fluttered around his long legs as the man, Haru!, walked. Instead of the mesh shirt he wore a brown heel length coat with poisonous green snakes curled around the bottom that shimmered as he moved and was so thin it was almost see through if you looked at it at the right moment, underneath he wore no shirt giving Iruka a good view of the other man’s fit, tanned, and scarred chest. There was no way this man was a civilian not with the scars he sported.


“My fault,” Iruka chuckled regaining his composure and pulling up his mask almost reflexively.

“I’m just clumsy.” And he forced a blush rubbing the back of his head with one hand.


Haru just looked at him for a moment the kind expression stuck on his face before it seemed to dissolve. The harlequin eyes hardened to a phthalo green and all gentleness seemed to disappear only to be replaced with a calculating sharpness that seemed to dissect every part of Iruka effortlessly. His face dropped its earlier expression replacing it with a warily impressed one while his body straightened out from its unassuming posture to one that radiated confidence and power. He had changed from unassuming civilian, except for the clothes, to a hardened and seasoned warrior.


“We both know that’s not true.” Haru stated and his voice had shifted as well. He now spoke in a tone that revealed a bone deep weariness along with strength and maturity that belied his young appearance. “Don’t insult the either of us. I dropped mine you drop yours.”
Iruka studied the man before him. He had never met someone, apart from Naruto, that wore the same type of mask he did. This man was an interesting enigma and a chance at a friend but he was also a danger. An uncharted danger that Iruka was unsure he could risk. However, looking more closely at this man Iruka decided it was a risk he would have to take. So Iruka dropped the hand that was rubbing at the back of his neck and shifted his stance into the self-confident one he was more suited to. His expression fell and formed one of slight interest mixed with apathetic boredom.

Haru grinned though it was more a smug smirk than a grin. “I brought you breakfast.” He stated picking up the tray and motioning Iruka to sit on the couch with his head. “Don’t have many visitors so there’s no table out here but you should be able to eat relatively easily out of the trey.” Iruka nodded his head in thanks as the food was sat before him.


Haru took a seat next to Iruka but still far enough away so as not to crowd the shinobi. “You’ll want to drink the teat in one gulp. It’s a hangover remedy of mine but tastes bloody awful.” Iruka eyed him carefully before deciding that if Haru had wanted him dead he would have already been dead and drinking the cup of tea quickly.


“The fuck?!” Iruka choked after he swallowed the tea. Iruka was almost positive that vomit would have tasted better. Haru chuckled almost sardonically at the look on Iruka’s face his expression clearly stating ‘I told you so’. Quickly Iruka ate on of the pieces of toast desperately trying to get the taste out of his mouth and in the process noticed that not only was his thought process clearer but his headache was gone as well. Whatever that remedy was it certainly worked.

“Thank you,” Iruka finally stated after he finished his meal and he found that for once it wasn’t a mere formality that made him speak the words. Iruka truly was grateful that this man, who didn’t truly know him, had helped him like he did.

“It’s no bother.” Haru replied waiving away the thanks with a negligent fluttering of his hand. “I found you interesting and decided it would be within my best interests to give you assistance.”


“I see,” Iruka hummed once again studying his host. “Who are you?” He questioned but it was more than just a question for a full name. It was a question of origin, of job, of being, of everything that made this man into Haru.


Haru raised one eyebrow silently before speaking.

“I am called Haru Lupin-Black.”

Iruka noted that he said he was called not named.

“I own the bakery below us. I am not from around here, anywhere around here but am here with the Hokage’s blessing. I am friend to the Hokage, I am baker, I am civilian, I am warrior, and I am broken.”

Iruka watched the emotions, as slight was they were, flicker through Haru’s eyes. Haru was a contradiction in every way. How could he be a warrior and a civilian? But it was the last part that really caught Iruka’s attention. This man was like him, broken and abandoned in the dirt. Yet the both of them kept fighting for what Iruka didn’t know and maybe neither did Haru but they both kept fighting to survive another day.

“Who are you?”


Iruka paused to think for a moment before speaking:

“I am named Iruka Umino. I am a chunnin academy instructor. I am orphan, I am teacher, I am alone, and I am broken.”

He concluded wondering what was in his eyes as he spoke. Was it anger at Konohagakure that had made him like this or was it despair at all that he was or maybe the burning desire that seemed to be igniting inside him for a reason Iruka was not yet aware of.


“Merry met Iruka.”

Haru murmured before he picked up Iruka’s dishes.

“Follow,” he called over his shoulder as he walked through a doorway to the right of the couch Iruka was currently sitting on. Iruka followed behind him shocked at the almost sterile hospital look that the kitchen had. All the appliances practically gave off their own light they were so clean and the white floors almost glowed the only thing that save the room being completely without color were the burnt golden walls that created a homely feeling to the room. But, just like in the living room, Iruka was sure everything was cleaner then when Haru had bought it all.


“Is there a reason everything is so clean?” Iruka asked searching the kitchen for even the smallest dust mote or hair before giving up and taking a seat on one of the three chairs that was set around a rectangular table against the right wall. There was a single fuchsia flower in a clear vase on the table and Iruka almost gapped when he realized what kind of flower it is.

“What are you doing with an Autumn Crocus on your table?” He questioned his voice almost awed.

“That’s one of the most poisonous and rare flowers in all the elemental countries.”

“And it’s my only one,” Haru stated not looking up from the dishes he was cleaning. “I found it when I was searching the woods for herbs. It was in a gated off section but it didn’t look like anyone ever went in there so I just climbed over the fence.”

Iruka blinked at the odd man who could not be human. He was talking about going into the Forest of death like it was nothing!


“Hey Iruka,” Haru called noticing that his guest and drifted away.


“Hmm?” Iruka questioned.


“Don’t you have classes to teach?”


Iruka was up and out of the kitchen faster than Haru could blink. As Iruka ran out the door, thankfully finding both his jacket and sandals before he went, he called out behind him: “I’ll pay you back for this!” Before racing across the rooftops. Haru just waived even though Iruka wouldn’t have seen it. Neither of them realized that they had just sealed their fates.