Chapter 13
When he was young, even if he was afraid, he still wished to unleash his skills in explosive ways. After all, he came to a world where he could just do that. To be a hero, a powerful one at that, who didn't want that?
Well, the reality is a big hammer to get struck with. He had to realize that those dreams weren't available for him. However, even though he gave up on Fire Release and learning something similar, he instead learned Fuinjutsu. Explosive tags soon became his favorite thing in the world.
Once he learned how to make them, he spent days upon days drawing the seals until he could not feel his fingers. And before long, he was able to draw a seal in a second. And not just explosive tags, everything he could learn, he tried to learn.
However, explosive tags were still his favorite, as they were incredibly versatile, even compared to many other jutsu and seals, although not particularly powerful on their own. Still, what he couldn't do with one, he could certainly do with a hundred—or a thousand.
They were just that useful. He used them as distractions, placing them far away and activating them when he needed to draw his enemies' attention to something. For defense, he left them behind as he retreated, slowing down any pursuit. And he used them for what they were created for: destruction.
The place where he slept was the most dangerous place he could be. Not because he would be the most vulnerable against enemies if they infiltrated his home, but because he made it the most dangerous place to be.
From the floor to the ceiling and the surrounding walls, every single space was covered in thousands of explosive seals. One hand sign, and there would be nothing but dust left of the apartment.
And it wasn't just explosive tags. Other seals were also inscribed to complement each other. There were only a few shinobi with extraordinary skill who could walk out unscathed once they entered.
So, Iruka quickly gathered all the information he had on Danzo and calculated the likelihood of his survival if he decided to unleash everything he had. If there had been less than a fifty percent chance of survival, Iruka would have already activated the seals.
"I know what you will do," Danzo said.
Damn him. Damn him to hell.
If anything in the world, Iruka was most proud of his eyes. He had learned to observe minute details in his surroundings, subtle differences in people's expressions, and the intent in their eyes. But with Danzo, he saw nothing.
Maybe he didn't know him well enough. Or maybe Danzo was simply that good at hiding himself. Even his voice was monotone, disinterested—as if he had already seen what he wanted.
"You will not continue on this path," Danzo said. "Play at being a teacher, little ghost, and don't interfere in matters that don't concern you."
"Sensei once said, even if you know the world will collapse tomorrow, your actions today still matter. For we live today, not in tomorrow."
Iruka released Danzo's bodyguard and even gave the antidote to the poison he had inflicted on the other one. He looked at Danzo as the man slowly walked toward him, waiting for him to continue.
"He was a liar," Iruka said, as Danzo no doubt wanted to hear it. "I live in the past. Not in today."
"Everyone has their place," Danzo said. "Don't forget yours."
"You're right," Iruka replied as Danzo walked past him. "Today, I am nothing but a teacher. And as a teacher, I will warn you: if you come into contact with any of my students, I will come for you. You know what I was in the past. You know what I am capable of. So, I hope you don't take my words seriously... and give me a reason to haunt you."
Danzo turned back to look at Iruka. They both stood there, watching each other. Iruka could now somewhat read Danzo's eyes—and they were calculating, weighing the cost of killing Iruka now. And the only reason he didn't, probably, was because he could read Iruka's eyes, too.
Eyes that told him Iruka wanted him to try.
He rationalized his emotions as he rationalized his actions—every one of them—because that was how he was trained to do.
That made him impossible to move, even as rage flooded his system. Even as his hands twitched, remembering what this bastard had done to Shisui and Itachi. He needed a reason to move. A reason to override the part of him screaming that this was a fight he should not take.
"I know everything there is to know," Danzo said, but he didn't move against Iruka. "And I know you will do as you are told because you will not have any other choice. Those who wander into the shadows without understanding what they face rarely return unchanged—if they return at all. The moment you become useless to the village is the moment the shadows devour you."
"A ghost does not cast a shadow," Iruka replied coldly.
There would be no understanding between them. Danzo came to size him up, and now that he had, he had no reason to stay any longer. Left alone in his home, Iruka just stared blankly at the doors.
Now he knew everything he needed to know.
The information hadn't been sold to other villages—it had been sold to Danzo. Otherwise, he wouldn't have allowed such a thing to happen. He would have known. He would have disposed of the traitor himself.
And aside from that man, who didn't even know who he sold the information to, there were probably no more leads pointing to Danzo. Otherwise, Danzo would have waited until Iruka was getting close.
Iruka had known it from the beginning. There was no way he could legally pressure the Hokage to dispose of Danzo. As vicious as Danzo was, he also knew how to cover his tracks.
Flicking his wrist, a kunai flew out of his sleeve, striking the wall. There was a bug there.
It was nothing but a declaration. Danzo would now be watching him. And as much as Iruka wanted to scoff at the idea of Danzo trying, he knew better. Danzo could allocate his resources to have Iruka under constant surveillance. Every fucking waking moment would be observed.
From now on, Iruka would need to be far more careful in planning how to take him down. Every single Root shinobi was as good as he was—and Danzo had dozens, if not hundreds, under his command.
It made sense now why Danzo didn't care about the changes in the Academy. The talented ones would prosper either way, and Danzo would simply select those he liked and train them himself.
In fact, it was even better for him if the Academy taught nothing of value. It made it easier for Danzo to create a clean canvas on which to paint the colors he wanted. Ultimately, nothing changed. No matter what Iruka did, he couldn't change anything.
He was too weak. Too pathetic. And the world would continue to spin with or without his input.
…
Iruka didn't remember how he got back to his bed. Looking at the empty bottles, the discarded papers, and the investigation notes, he could tell he hadn't been in a good mood after Danzo left. He'd drunk as much as he could to improve it.
And like always, it wasn't enough.
It was fortunate that today was Sunday, and he had no classes. Not because of the hangover—but because he felt so damn pathetic.
He could go to the Hokage with this knowledge about Danzo, but the old man wouldn't do anything. Iruka still liked and respected him, but he was all too aware of his faults. The Hokage was too passive. Danzo had his claws too deep, no matter what Iruka said. As long as he had no concrete proof, nothing would change.
And that meant Danzo could take one of his students at any time, and no one would bat an eye. Those children would become mindless tools, unable to think for themselves. That kind of life was worse than any death Iruka could imagine.
Iruka was losing his mind as he stared at the kunai stuck in the wall. He hadn't bothered to take it back.
But something caught his eye.
It wasn't embedded as deeply as he thought it would be.
Picking it up, he realized how easily it slid from the wall. Flicking his wrist, he threw the kunai again. It struck another wall.
Something felt wrong.
He did it again. And again.
Until he finally realized what was wrong.
He was getting weaker.
Not only were his movements slower by a fraction of a second, but the strength behind them had waned, too. It had been almost a year since his last mission outside the village. And how long had he been drinking?
As wake-up calls went, this one was mild. But it still made him realize he had to act.
He knew he couldn't stop drinking. He was too dependent on it and didn't even want to stop. But he was done lying around doing nothing. As much as he knew there was nothing he could do to change anything, he would be damned if he at least didn't try.
…
Konoha had many great shinobi. Some were Iruka's friends—ones who would help him with anything, and vice versa. Every single one of them was strong. But among them, there were the truly exceptional.
There were strong shinobi, and then there were beasts who defied every norm and standard, and only grew more monstrous with each passing year. Iruka knew he could never catch up to them. He never even considered surpassing them. But he didn't need to.
He only needed to surpass his current self.
"I see you're training hard, as usual," Iruka said as he looked at Might Guy doing a one-handed handstand with a boulder balanced on his feet and still wearing his weights. The ground under him was getting pushed down by all the weight.
"Today is the best time to burn in youthful flames, just as the trees bloom in the springtime!" Might Guy beamed. Despite the sun overhead, he wasn't even sweating—it was just a warm-up. "Do you finally wish to join me, Iruka-boy?"
"I may hate myself, but not that much to train with you. No, I'm here to ask for a favor."
"A favor? That implies a return."
"I can only offer a promise."
"A promise?"
"Yes. If you agree to spar with me every week from today onward, I promise I'll give you a student who'll surpass you in every way."
"Oh?" Guy tossed the boulder into the air, landed on his feet, caught it with his hands, and settled into a horse stance. "That's quite an interesting promise, Iruka-boy. But I'd spar with you anytime, with or without it."
"I don't want just any spar," Iruka said. "I will be trying to kill you using everything I have and know. And I don't want you to hold back. Punish every mistake I make. A real battle—with life on the line."
Iruka hated training, especially in the manner Guy trained. What he loved was learning. He'd lost that passion once he realized he lacked the talent—or even the chakra—to master what he truly wanted. But now, he was beginning to forget what he'd learned.
Among all shinobi in Konoha, there was no one else he could ask for this kind of training. Not only did he know Guy would accept, but he also knew Guy was the worst possible opponent for him.
No matter what Iruka threw at him, nothing would faze him. That meant Iruka could—and would have to—use everything. And maybe even learn something new along the way, just to scratch Konoha's Green Beast's skin.
"I was wrong about you, Iruka-boy," Guy said. "I thought your eyes had lost their fire and had become darker than a certain friend of mine. But now I see the fire in your eyes may not burn hot. It's cold, like a winter breeze. But it still burns bright. Very well. Shall we begin now?"
Iruka had no idea what Guy was talking about. He only smiled in return.
He had come prepared.
Placing his hands behind his back, he gripped the tanto hidden beneath his flak jacket. Without a word or warning, he drew his blade and went straight for Guy's neck.
Right now, Might Guy was nothing but a target Iruka had to eliminate.
No other thought entered his mind.
Only kill.
A.N. Sorry for being a day late again. was too tired after work to finish the chapter.
As always, thanks for reading and supporting me, so I can continue writing without any concerns, and if you want more, up to 7 more chapters and 28 chapters in total with all my other stories, you can support me on pa treon. com \ ironwolf852.