Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ What He Wants ❯ Part 7 ( Chapter 7 )

Part 7

 

The house is normal, if barren. The only signs of hominess are the heavily shaded curtains and windows, which throw the rooms into near-darkness. The light from the open doorway is muted by the storm and fades quickly. Iruka tries a light-switch and is surprised when it works.

 

He follows the ninken through a doorway, then stops as the pug abruptly sits down in front of him and looks up at him expectantly. Iruka looks around and realizes they are in a kitchen. He glares at Pakkun. “You can't be serious.”

 

As if on cue, the dog's stomach growls loudly. Iruka slaps a hand to his forehead.

 

“Told ya I haven't eaten, Sensei. And it ain't like the ANBU can come in and check on you to make sure you're on-task.”

 

The flat-faced little brat is far too smug for his own good, but what he says is true enough, Iruka supposes. Shaking his head, he asks, “What am I supposed to feed you, then?”

 

“Check the fridge.”

 

That would definitely indicate that Kakashi has been coming here even after he finished doing…whatever he did to Iruka. This place is probably not just a scroll-hiding place, then. Iruka opens the fridge, and goggles a bit at the sheer volume of food inside, all stored neatly in Tupperware containers. “Er…”

 

“He labels them with names,” Pakkun says helpfully.

 

“Right,” Iruka sighs, and begins sifting through the tubs, reading the names inked neatly on masking tape. `Uuhei', `Guruko', `Akino', a gigantic sink-sized tub labeled `Bull', `Iruka'—

 

Eh?

 

He grabs the container with his name off the shelf and catches a folded note before it can flutter to the floor. Setting the container on the counter, he snaps open the paper.

 

Iruka,

 

I know you're pissed with me, but believe me when I say that all of this is going to work out. When this all blows over I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you, short of giving you up. That I will never, never do. I'll always want you. So don't give up on me either, okay?

 

It is signed with the trademark henohenomoheji, of course. The little scarecrow-face is just a tad too whimsical-looking for Iruka's frayed nerves, and he crumples up the note and hurls it viciously against the wall. It skitters unimpressively to the floor.

 

Well, there goes Shiko's theory that Kakashi just wasn't bright enough to realize what was going to happen to him. Apparently his genius label has a solid foundation. That arrogant bastard.

 

He can't deny that part of him is relieved, and so happy that Kakashi took the time to make sure Iruka got a message from him when they were certain to be apart, where no one could observe him writing the message or Iruka receiving it. Words just for him.

 

But, since he is a grown man, a shinobi, and not a simpering twelve-year-old girl, many bigger parts of him are just mad as hell. Kakashi hasn't tried to deny what he's done, at least, but he's obviously completely unapologetic about it. Not only that, but the note seems to indicate that the main thrust of his feelings for Iruka is purely possessive, not affectionate or caring. That feels like a burning wound in Iruka's chest, like he's been lanced.

 

Not to mention there is a big difference between `giving up' a person and `giving up on' them. The former implies possession, and the latter implies faith. It seems Kakashi doesn't think he needs faith in Iruka, since Iruka `belongs' to him and doesn't have a choice about the situation either way, but thinks Iruka should have faith in him—like one would have faith in a parent, or a protector, or a god.

 

“Sensei?” Pakkun's voice is cautious, almost timid.

 

Iruka realizes he is snarling at the ball of paper on the floor, his hands tightly fisted, and forces himself to relax and turn back to the refrigerator. “Just a minute, Pakkun-san,” he mutters, locating the container with the pug's name on it. Ripping the tape off, he shoves it in the microwave and starts heating it up.

 

He hears a little sigh behind him. “You know, the boss—”

 

“I don't want to hear it, Pakkun-san,” Iruka says evenly.

 

Mercifully, the dog is quiet, and Iruka focuses on the hum of the microwave to clear his thoughts. The smell coming from the little appliance is mouthwatering, and Iruka wonders if Kakashi cooks them the same kinds of things he cooks for Iruka. His stomach growls, and he remembers abruptly that Pakkun isn't the only one who hasn't eaten today. He shoots a glare at the tub labeled `Iruka' that is still sitting on the counter.

 

The microwave beeps, and he grabs Pakkun's food, removing the lid to see what looks like a hunk of Beef Wellington and some vegetables slathered in gravy. He snorts. “Spoiled mutts,” he says, turning to set the bowl down on the floor, only to find Pakkun sitting on the little kitchen table.

 

“What?” the pug says when Iruka raises a brow. “Just because I'm a dog, I gotta eat on the floor?”

 

“Yes,” Iruka replies.

 

Pakkun looks very affronted. “Hmph! I'll have you know—”

 

“If it were my house, yes,” Iruka clarifies. “Here, you can eat wherever you want, I don't care.” He thunks the bowl down in front of the dog. “Hurry up, I don't want to take too much longer. Even if no one can come in here, eventually we have to go back out there, and I'd rather no one is out for my blood when we do.”

 

Pakkun doesn't really look appeased, but starts eating without further comment. He looks up again when Iruka's stomach growls audibly. “Why don't you eat too, Iruka-sensei?”

 

Iruka has been trying to convince himself that he shouldn't trust anything Kakashi made, but he's having a hard time coming up with a good reason why. Ibiki's assertion that Kakashi wouldn't put him in harm's way runs through his head, but he can't help feeling like there could be some insidious way for Kakashi to influence him through the food that he would never think of in a million years. He's too close to the situation to know if the paranoia is warranted or ridiculous.

 

“If you're worried, I could always taste your food before you eat it,” Pakkun suggests, a little too hopefully. “Just to be safe.”

 

That decides him. “You just want extra. Eat your own damn food and be happy about it,” Iruka gripes, getting up to throw the other container in the oven. If Pakkun's willing to eat Iruka's food, there probably isn't anything to worry about. If he's wrong, he's wrong. He's tired of trying to think about it.

 

Kakashi has made him bouillabaisse, Iruka's favorite stew after yosenabe. He's really glad it's not Beef Wellington. Delicious thought it might be, Iruka's not a huge fan of beef. It always makes him feel sluggish. He doesn't understand how the little pug will be able to move after having eaten a piece about as big as his head.

 

They both finish at the same time, and Iruka feels compelled to wash the bowls since he doesn't know when anyone will return here. He's not bothered by clutter and regularly leaves dirty laundry on his bedroom floor, but rotting food sitting out in the open, collecting insects, makes him queasy. Even if he doesn't have to see it, just the knowledge that it exists will bother him.

 

Pakkun leads Iruka across the hall and into a small, empty room. There is only a curtained window and a cracked light fixture on the ceiling to break the monotony of white walls and a naked wooden floor. It takes him a few seconds to realize that there is a genjutsu active in the room. It's extremely faint; he's certain he wouldn't have noticed it if he wasn't on high alert.

 

He makes a seal. “Kai!”

 

For a second, it looks like nothing's happened. Then, searching the room once more, Iruka realizes that there's a small sliding door set in one of the walls, carefully built in and painted to camouflage it. Again, if he hadn't been really looking, he would probably have missed it. He walks over to it and cautiously slides it open.

 

The door reveals a tiny, featureless closet.

 

Iruka blinks at it for a few seconds, then makes the dispelling seal again. “Kai!”

 

Nothing.

 

He turns to look at Pakkun, who is wearing a distinctly amused expression. “You want to help me out a little, Pakkun?” Iruka asks, annoyed.

 

“Why? You're doing fine without me so far.” His hind leg scratches behind an ear.

 

“I didn't come here to solve a puzzle.”

 

“Fine, fine.” The dog trots into the closet with him—there's just barely room for both of them—and sniffs around the floor. “Stand here,” he says, indicating a spot with his paw, “and clap your hands five times while spinning around on one foot and repeating `I believe in miracles'—”

 

“Pakkun!” Iruka snaps, feeling a muscle in his cheek twitching. His last nerve is close to fraying, even if he is secretly a little amused.

 

“Okay, okay, you don't have to blow a gasket, I'm just trying to cheer you up, Sensei!”

 

“I appreciate it, but now's not the time.”

 

“Well, you do need to stand here. Just face the door and pulse chakra into the wall in front of you three times.”

 

Iruka squints at Pakkun suspiciously, but there's no hint of mischief in the dog's bland expression. So he follows the instructions, and is pleased to see a couple of buttons appear on the wall next to the doorway after the third pulse.

 

“Push the bottom button,” Pakkun instructs.

 

He does, and is faintly surprised when the door slides shut, leaving them in darkness for a second before a light pops on overhead. He's caught completely off-guard when the entire closet starts descending rapidly. “Whoa!” he exclaims, stumbling just a little.

 

“Never been in an elevator, Sensei?”

 

“Er, no, I haven't. Do they all—ah!” Iruka gasps, as the room halts so abruptly that it nearly sends him to his knees. “Do they all stop and start like that?”

 

“You're asking me? I'm not an elevator connoisseur.” The pug looks completely unruffled by the journey. Iruka envies him his low center of gravity.

 

“Never mind,” he sighs, as the door in front of them slides open, revealing a long, low room that resembles, in both looks and the smells of decaying paper and old coffee, one of the storage rooms under the Academy library.

 

They step out, and the light in the elevator shuts off as overhead lights switch on one after another, until the whole room is brightly illuminated. There are shelves and file cabinets lining the walls, and tables in rows from one end of the room to the other, most covered with papers and rolled-up scrolls, maps and books, writing implements, magnifying glasses and reading lamps. Several comfortable looking chairs are scattered among the tables. There's also a small alcove, hidden at first by a file cabinet taller than Iruka, that houses a tiny kitchenette, complete with a small fridge, a two-burner stove and an economy-sized coffee maker.

 

Iruka steps around the tables into the middle of the room, his heart sinking as he takes in the sheer volume of paper. There have to be hundreds of thousands of scrolls in here, and he has no idea which ones would be relevant or how they're organized. If they're organized at all. Since Kakashi can use the Sharingan to memorize eidetically, he wouldn't have to have any sort of system. It would definitely confound anyone trying to find a set of documents Kakashi wanted hidden. Such as Iruka.

 

“Pakkun,” Iruka says, beginning to despair, “please tell me you know which scrolls I need to photograph and where they are.” He doesn't think there's any reason Kakashi's ninken would have this information, but maybe…maybe he can smell whatever Kakashi's used most recently, or something like that…

 

“Check the table at the back, Iruka-sensei,” Pakkun says. He sounds like he's trying to keep from laughing.

 

Shooting a suspicious glance at the dog, Iruka wades through the rows of tables and chairs to the table at the end of the room. He notices as he approaches that everything on this table is very neatly stacked and organized, as opposed to the careless sprawls of books and scrolls on every other table.

 

He really shouldn't be surprised by this point, but he is when he sees an origami dolphin labeled `Iruka-sensei' on top of a stack of books in the middle of the table. He finds himself far more irritated than relieved.

 

Pakkun jumps up onto the table in front of him. “We already established that the boss knew you were gonna be coming, right? He knew what Ibiki would want. If it was anyone else, he would have made this whole thing completely impossible, just for kicks.”

 

“And I'm just supposed to trust that what's right here is everything that's relevant, that he's not hiding anything?” Iruka growls. “I should just let him hand-feed me whatever he wants to?”

 

“Sensei, don't be like that,” the dog chides, cocking his head. “The boss just doesn't want you to have to go to all the trouble of—”

 

The thin blue line of rage has begun blazing cold along Iruka's spine. Before he knows it, he's got Pakkun by the throat, shoved onto his back on the table. Despite the violence, Iruka feels calm as a blade. “Don't talk that son of a bitch up to me, you little shit,” he says, his voice almost conversational. “Do you have any idea what he's done to me? Do you even know what we're looking for down here? Don't fuck with me for his sake; I don't care if he's your master.”

 

Pakkun is gagging and looking up at him with fear in his eyes, the first time Iruka's seen it there, and sanity suddenly returns. He releases the dog instantly, horrified at himself, and stares at his hand like he's never seen it before. What a big man he is, attacking a dog that's barely as long as his forearm, ninken or not.

 

Feeling shaky, he backs up against a file cabinet and sinks down to the floor, closing his eyes. He bangs his head hard against the rigid surface behind him, and the dull clank resounds around the room. He does it again and again, until he's seeing stars behind his lids. “Pakkun-san,” he says thickly, “I'm so sorry.”

 

He feels a paw on his leg and looks down to see the pug looking up at him. Iruka's eyes fill and he doesn't bother to suppress the tears or swipe at them. “No harm done, Sensei,” Pakkun says gently, though his voice is slightly more gravelly than usual, which makes Iruka feel worse.

 

He opens his mouth to apologize more thoroughly, but shuts it again when no words will come that don't sound more trite than contrite. Tears crawl down his face, pooling in between his lips before spilling down his chin.

 

“Sensei…” Pakkun begins hesitantly, “I don't know the details of what's happened, it's true. I know the boss made you want to be with him, made you think you'd been together a lot longer than you have, and that maybe it can't be undone. That's all I know. It's not right, and there's no excuse for it. But…if I say something, are you going to get all bent out of shape again?”

 

Iruka chuckles bitterly. “No. Say what you want to say.”

 

Pakkun looks slightly wary, but speaks anyway. “The boss, he's really gone downhill since the whole Sasuke incident. Even before that, the way he lost to Itachi really undermined his confidence. Not that he'd ever show it, but we can smell it on him.”

 

“You can smell confidence?” Iruka asks, finally wiping his tears away. The thought is amusing.

 

“You wanna hear this or not?”

 

Iruka isn't sure he does, but he says, “Sorry, go on.”

 

Pakkun clears his throat and resumes. His voice sounds a little better, Iruka thinks, though maybe it's just wishful thinking. “Anyway, I know in a village full of ninja, just about everyone's got a sob story, and anyone who makes it to elite status is deranged and damaged. Especially ANBU. But the boss is a special kind of crazy, because he can do things almost no one else can do, and not just because of the Sharingan. And you're caught up in it now, no matter what happens. He'll never let this go, even if the Hokage manages to find a way to completely undo what he's done.”

 

I'll never, never give you up, the note had said. Iruka wonders what Pakkun is trying to accomplish, telling him this. “Pakkun—”

 

“If you fight him, run from him, this whole situation will get a lot worse than it is right now,” Pakkun continues over him.

 

“So you're saying I should just let him do whatever he wants?” Iruka bites out. He feels irritated, and shoves the feeling away harshly. He will not lose it around Pakkun again.

 

“I'm saying try to work with him. Try to understand exactly what it is that he wants from you. And no, it's not sex. Not just sex,” he amends, when Iruka laughs out loud. “Try to make him admit to whatever needs he is trying to fulfill by doing this to you. None of this will be easy; he's a master of evasion, misdirection and being an annoying pain in the ass, as you probably know. But if you can manage to get him to be honest with you, he won't be able to feel like you're not his equal, no matter what he's done. And if he doesn't feel like he's in control of you, there's a possibility he'll let you go, if you want to go. If you just rebel against him, you might piss him off, but he'll know you're reacting to him and thus he'll still feel in control, and will pursue you to the ends of the earth, even if he's lost interest in you by then.”

 

Iruka stares at Pakkun in amazement. “You weren't kidding about him being a special kind of crazy.”

 

The pug's grin is toothy. “Nope.”

 

Iruka puts a hand gently on the dog's head, scratching. He's glad when the ninken doesn't flinch from him. “I'll think about what you've said, Pakkun. Thanks for the advice.”

 

“Anytime, Sensei.” The pug dips into his vest and pulls out the camera he'd displayed earlier, dropping it on Iruka's lap. “How about getting started now? I seem to remember someone wanting to get out of here sometime today.”

 

Picking up the camera, Iruka gets to his feet and stares at the piles of documents on the table for a moment. “Right,” he sighs, and reaches for the first scroll.