Chapter 7
Iruka woke up not knowing how long he had been asleep—or awake, at that matter. Only the alarm clock stirred him from his stupor, as he looked at the ceiling, feeling like he was staring at it for hours, yet not able to remember it. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. He didn't even remember how he'd gotten back home, or into bed.
Maybe it was just muscle memory by now. He knew he had a problem, but it stopped the dreams. Well, most of the time. It was better than reliving his worst nightmares, and he just didn't want to face them.
Chugging a bottle of water and washing his face cleared his head a little. A glance at the clock told him he'd be late if he didn't leave immediately. He strapped on his flak jacket and jumped out the window, sprinting across rooftops toward the Academy.
By the time he arrived, he realized he hadn't eaten since yesterday. But there was no time to think about that—class was about to start. And Iruka wasn't someone who wanted to be late or show any cracks in his persona to his students. He wanted to show that punctuality was important to any shinobi. Well, to most.
"Good morning," Iruka greeted the class as he walked up to his desk, a smile stretching on his face.
The chatter quieted. He glanced over the room to make sure everyone was present. He sat down and just as he was about to speak and explain they'd be going on a field trip, his chair collapsed under him with a loud crack.
He hit the floor.
Laughter rang out, loud and obnoxious. Iruka's eyes snapped toward the culprit as he heard a distinctive laugh of triumph among the other voices. He looked up at the blonde, who now tried to hide. Pranks were fine, it was harmless, and everyone loved them, that is, if they weren't done to him.
"It wasn't me!" Naruto blurted out before Iruka even looked at him.
"I know," Iruka said flatly. "It would've been ten times easier if it were you, Naruto."
He turned to Ino Yamanaka.
"Ino Yamanaka, detention for the rest of the week. See me after classes."
"You have no proof," she replied with a defiant smirk, crossing her arms.
"Do I need any?" Iruka asked, tilting his head. "And if I checked your dress, would I not find sawdust from you cutting the chair?"
"No?" she tried, glancing down—and immediately winced.
"Bring a new chair by tomorrow morning," Iruka said, rising with a sigh. "That wasn't how I planned to start the day. Regardless, today we're going on a little excursion. Don't worry, we'll be back before lunchtime."
"Where are we going?" Kiba asked eagerly.
"A place just as important as the Hokage Monument," Iruka replied. "Now, are you going to sit or follow me out?"
Maybe because the prank had technically worked, the class was in a surprisingly good mood. Even Ino didn't seem too upset about being caught. As she was now the attention of the class, she loved it. To her credit, she had succeeded—at least in part. She just didn't manage to get away with it.
Still, Iruka would need to find a punishment that left an impression. He didn't have the time or energy to keep worrying about pranks every time he walked through the door. He had more important things to deal with.
…
It didn't take long to lead the class to their destination, but watching over twenty-seven kids was more than just a headache. Especially when you only had two hangover-plagued eyes at your service.
Thankfully, none of them wandered off or tried anything stupid. Small victories.
"We're here," Iruka said as they stopped at the Third Training Ground. "Do any of you know what this place is?"
Their eyes shifted among themselves. Confused glances. A few tentative shrugs. Most had no idea. The few who did clearly didn't understand the significance.
Iruka turned his gaze to the stone before them—tall, cold, and etched with too many names. Names he recognized, names he was familiar with. And those names stared back at him, judging and waiting.
"This is the Memorial Stone. Every name carved into it belongs to a recognized hero of Konoha."
"Whoa," Naruto muttered. He and Kiba approached it, eyes wide in excitement.
"There are so many…" Naruto whispered. "I've decided—my name's going to be here, too. I'll be the greatest hero."
"No way," Kiba scoffed, pushing him aside. "A loser like you doesn't stand a chance. My name's going to be there first."
"Idiots," Shikamaru muttered, already turning away.
"Before you get excited about having your name here," Iruka said, "I suggest you read some of them. All of you. Carefully."
Naruto looked confused, but did as told. As the class moved closer and scanned the stone, Iruka watched their expressions shift.
It hit slowly, one by one, as some recognized the names carved here. Family members they only the head of. Their parents' friends, who were mentioned before. They weren't fools and could piece together why they only heard those names and never saw the person with their own eyes.
"Ikkaku Umino, Kohari Umino," Naruto read aloud. "Those are…?"
"Yes," Iruka said quietly. "They were my parents. Every name on that stone belonged to someone who died in the line of duty, protecting the village. This is their memorial."
He gave them a moment. The weight of it landed harder than any lecture could. Naruto and Kiba looked like someone had slapped them. The good and light mood from earlier was long gone, replaced by silence and solemnity.
"They died for the village," Iruka continued. "For you. This is the reality of the path you're so eager to walk. Death, loss, anger, hatred toward others, and sometimes yourself. That's what comes with being a shinobi. And it only gets worse. The higher your rank, the heavier the burden."
He let the words sit.
This wasn't the whole lesson—not even close—but it was enough for today. They were still children. Pushing them too far would do more harm than good.
His job was to guide them to take the right path, not to force them on one.
…
Iruka regretted giving Ino detention.
He was going through a combat lesson with another class, and the day wasn't even close to ending.
"I would strongly recommend you all reconsider your future career choices," he told the oldest class in the Academy—the ones slated to graduate this year. "Let me put it in simple terms, so even you can understand: you all suck."
They were twelve years old. Most came from well-off families. And not a single one of them had shown the slightest bit of competence.
"Alright," Iruka said, rubbing his temples. "We have a year to turn this around. Forget advanced jutsu or anything really. We're starting with stamina training."
They weren't even close to ready. But the worst part was that they knew it. When Iruka demonstrated just how easily he could take any one of them down, they didn't argue. They couldn't.
These kids wouldn't survive a week outside the village. But maybe—maybe—they could learn to run long enough to stay alive.
So, he made them run.
It wasn't exciting, but it was necessary. These children were the victims of a system that had failed them, stuck with reforms that didn't work. But they were old enough to listen and maybe, just maybe, mature enough to realize that they needed to change.
"I won't force you," Iruka said after an hour of laps. "But I highly suggest you continue this training at home. I'll prepare a regimen for stamina and flexibility. And again, really think about your future."
No one argued.
He had almost hoped someone would.
Their silence was painful.
Their last instructor had been a problem, clearly. No one wanted to speak ill of him, but the picture painted itself: a lazy bastard who let the kids beat each other up and called it "training." There was no feedback. No care.
Iruka made a mental note to find the man and get answers. If nothing else, he could get a satisfying rant out of it.
"That's enough for today."
He called the class back. Half were already down to walking pace. Were these kids supposed to be ready to become shinobi in less than a year?
Unlikely.
As the students left, Iruka fished out his flask. Empty. Of course. The headache was setting in—and the next class was already arriving.
At least he recognized a few names.
"Neji Hyuga," Iruka called. "Today I'm testing your skills. You can use the entire training ground. Your opponents… will be your classmates."
A chorus of groans and complaints erupted. Music to his ears.
Iruka already knew the results—he had reviewed all their files—but he needed to see them for himself. The gap between Neji and the others was enormous.
In the old days, the boy might've already graduated.
But this wasn't the old days, and Iruka needed to understand just how far the rest had fallen behind before he could bring them back up.
…
"Shit," Iruka muttered as he looked over the profiles of every student at the academy.
"Dad says it is bad to swear," Ino Yamanaka replied from her seat, having her head glued to the table.
Iruka glanced at her, and after mockingly observing her sticking tongue, he shook his head and returned to his task. He needed to figure out how he was going to teach every class, and time wasn't on his side.
He needed to plan it out methodically, ironing out the weaknesses of some and supplementing the strengths of others. He hadn't thought it through when he decided to take this job, and now he realized how impossible a task he had taken on. But again, he always thought he could handle more than he was capable of.
"No sleeping," Iruka threw a pen at Ino, who was starting to doze off.
"Bwah," Iruka didn't even know what that sound indicated, and he didn't want to find out. "It's so boring. Naruto does this kind of prank all the time; he always gets away with it. But when I do, suddenly it isn't funny. It isn't fair."
"And how fair am I standing right now?" Iruka asked, silencing Ino. "And there is a difference. You would return to your warm home, where your parents would await you to tell them what you did for the day. Then you get a warm meal and get cozy doing some dumb stuff without a worry in the world, forgetting about it. Naruto, on the other hand, no, it doesn't matter."
Iruka stopped himself as he realized it wasn't his story to tell, and it wasn't wise to compare himself to others. It never went well when he did. He thought he was getting better when he compared himself to Hayate or Anko, but then there was Shisui, and later on, Itachi. He shouldn't have compared himself to them; maybe he wouldn't have fallen into such an abyss then.
"What's the difference about Naruto? Tell me. Tell me. Tell me," It was nothing but a game to Ino to ward off boredom at this point. "Fine, don't tell me. He is just an orphan, and nobody cares about him anyway."
She wouldn't understand what it feels like to come home, a home that isn't really his, and find it empty and cold. So, there was nothing he could say to change that. Hopefully, she would never have to understand it and can live in her warm and cozy home, where there is always someone waiting for her.
A.N. Sorry for not posting for a while. I got really unlucky, and my PC died. Then I got scammed and lost almost all my money. So, now I am working with a shitty pc. On the bright side I won't be gaming any time soon, yay.
As always, thanks for reading and supporting me, so I can continue writing without any concerns, and if you want more, up to seven more chapters, you can support me on pa treon. com \ ironwolf852.