Chapter One: Fatherly Love

Apirl 24-April 26

Wednesday, 4:33

Raidou stalked past the training Genins, ducked a kunai reflexively, and marched right up to the pony-tailed snot that had been harassing his youngest brother.

"Umino!" he snapped, purposefully looming over the preteen.

A tanned, freckled face glared up at him. "What?" the brat snapped, hands planted on his hips.

Raidou had to give the little bastard credit; he didn't back down. At twenty-two and already a Jounin, most adults backed down from Raidou. The little scar-faced punk just glared up at him, though. Raidou loomed even more.

The twelve-year-old refused to step back, chin jutting out stubbornly. "You want to say something?"

"Leave my brother alone."

"I didn't do nothing to your brother."

Raidou's eyebrows shot up. "Bull." He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that it wasn't good to threaten someone almost ten years his junior. He couldn't help himself. He'd gotten back from a mission only to discover that his little brother had been getting bossed around, beaten up, and constantly bullied for the past two weeks by this little snot and his friend.

Akeno was only nine.

"I didn't," the brat hissed, face flushing. The scar across his nose whitened.

"You touch my brother again--"

"Iruka!"

The kid's head snapped around, looking down the road. He gave Raidou a nasty little smirk and stepped to one side. "Hi, Michio-san!"

Raidou glanced over his shoulder.

Touji Michio stood on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, shirt straining against overly muscled shoulders. He was one of the elite Jounin, and had only one child; Mizuki. The other brat that had apparently been messing with Akeno.

"There a problem here?" the man asked, deceptively calm. Michio was someone you didn't generally want to mess with, Raidou knew. Rumor had it that he'd been in ANBU for years, and had only stopped because he felt that his son needed a parent. He was still a formidable ninja.

"Yeah," Raidou snapped. "You want to explain why your kid's been harassing my brother?"

Michio shrugged. "Mizuki's been on a mission for the last few days. I don't know what you're talking about." Then pale blue eyes shifted to Iruka, and he smiled. "I thought you might want company on the way home. I'm headed that way."

"Yeah," Iruka said, relief clear in his voice. He shot Raidou another vicious little look, then tripped around him and snatched a bag off the ground under a tree. He ran toward Michio, dropping to a more sedate pace just before reaching the sidewalk.

Raidou glared at their backs as they headed off.

"Aniki," Akeno said in a near-whine, running up. "What are you doing? Now all the other guys are gonna laugh at me 'cause you had to come!"

Raidou sighed and shoved both his hands into his pockets. "Sorry, Akeno." Then he eyed his little brother. "But why are you complaining? At least you'll get to keep your lunch tomorrow. I should teach you this ninjutsu--"

"I'd get to keep it anyway," Akeno said, shouldering his backpack. "Iruka doesn't steal it when Mizuki's not around."

Raidou frowned and glanced back at the sidewalk, but the two people were already gone.

Mizuki, his mother had told him, was Touji Michio's only son, his mother dead in childbirth. Inoichi had implied that Michio, while a valuable asset, especially while they were at war, was not a nice person. Not even for war standards.

There wasn't much a man could do to be declared unlikable by battle-hardened ninja.

"Can we go home?" Akeno asked.

"What? Oh, yeah. Sure. Iruka doesn't steal your food?" Raidou asked, bringing his mind back to the present.

"'Course not. He's on missions most of the time, and it's too much hassle for him to come all the way back for that. It's fine unless Mizuki's around. Mizuki kinda likes to pick on the littler kids." Akeno was digging through his backpack, pulling out a bag of chips and opening them with a pop. "Iruka's a Genin, so I don't see him much, but he seems mostly okay."

Raidou felt vaguely bad about having accused the kid otherwise. Of course, if he was still being a shit when Mizuki was around--

Raidou shook his head, put a hand on his brother's shoulder, and started heading out of the yard. The kid wasn't his problem.

**

Wednesday, 4:40

Iruka had met Mizuki almost two years before, just after his parents had died, and they'd become fast friends. Whether this was due to general attraction or simply because Iruka didn't have any other friends, no one could say.

After he'd met Mizuki, he'd had even fewer friends. That was all right. He didn't need other friends. Mizuki was enough.

And Mizuki's father was nice.

Iruka glanced up at the man, then smiled down at his shoes.

Mizuki's father was awesome. There weren't any other adults that cared as much as he did. Iruka felt like he could talk with the man, and Michio treated Iruka like an equal. He could be a little touchy, sometimes, but then, he was touchy with Mizuki, too. Michio let Iruka stay over for dinner, and spend the night, and didn't ever yell at them or anything like that, and he checked on Iruka when Mizuki wasn't around.

No one else did that.

"So, do you know when Mizuki's supposed to be back?" Iruka asked hopefully.

"Oh, not for another few days. He's leading his first team." There was a note of pride in the man's voice at that, and Iruka smiled.

He was happy for Mizuki, who'd made Chuunin a year before, at fourteen. Iruka figured if he made Chuunin in two years, when he was fourteen, that would be great.

Of course, sooner would be better, but since he'd only made Genin by the skin of his teeth . . .

"This is my place," Iruka said, pausing at his door. He fiddled with the strap of his bag, hesitating. "Do you want to come in? Maybe have some tea?" He wasn't ready to be alone in the big old house.

"I'd like that," Michio said with a casual smile.

Iruka opened the door and let him in.

**

Wednesday, 4:55

Raidou got his little brother home in time for dinner, and neither of them mentioned to their mother that they'd gotten candy on the way. They weren't suicidal.

"So it's this Mizuki that's the problem," Raidou clarified, leaning against the doorway of the bathroom while Akeno washed his hands.

"I guess," Akeno said, scowling. "But I can take care of myself, Aniki! I don't need help!"

"Against older kids? Genins?" Raidou pointed out.

Akeno scrubbed his fingernails determinedly. "Mizuki's a Chuunin."

"So you think you can hold your own against a Chuunin?" Raidou asked, trying hard not to laugh. Akeno could be prickly about things like that.

Akeno was sullenly silent.

Raidou sighed and headed out to find his mother.

She was, predictably, in the kitchen.

Raidou entered silently, keeping to her blind spot, padding stealthily across the floor. Her back was turned. She hummed and stirred simmering soup. Raidou leaned forward and--

"Gah!" he yelped, jumping backward as her spoon hit him square in the forehead. "How did you do that? I know I didn't make a sound!"

His mother only smiled, still not having looked up.

Raidou wiped soup off his skin, then licked it from his fingers. Tasty. "You know anything about this Mizuki kid picking on Akeno?"

A frown graced features that were worn with age but still attractive. "I know he's Michio's son."

"Yeah," Raidou said, eyeing the distance between himself and the pot. "You always told us to stay away from that guy."

His mother said nothing, but whapped his hand with her spoon when he tried to sneak a taste.

Raidou pulled back quickly, grinning.

"Have you washed your hands?"

"Mom, I'm twenty-two," he pointed out dryly.

She just looked at him. Raidou sighed and headed toward the sink, flipping the water on and washing up. Done, he turned it off and pulled bowls out of a cupboard, setting them on the counter. "Why doesn't anyone like Michio?"

His mother glanced up at him sidelong, then looked back down again.

"Mom," Raidou said quietly, smiling and wrapping an arm around her. "I think I can handle this."

She still didn't look up. Under his arm, her muscles were tense. "We've only heard rumours. Nothing's been confirmed, and they pulled Mizuki out of school several times, to ask him if . . . well . . ."

Raidou waited.

His mother's lips pursed. "There's nothing real, Raidou. Nothing anyone can point to and say he's done."

"What's suspected?" Raidou asked cautiously.

She glanced behind them, looking through the door into the room beyond. It was empty. "People have just noticed that . . . well, when he looks at children, he lingers a bit too long."

Raidou frowned. "That makes no sense."

His mother gave him a hard look. It was moments like these, even more then when she spotted him sneaking up, that he remembered she was an elite ninja in her own right. "Have you ever had someone look at you, and just felt disturbed by it? Had someone hit on you that you thought was scum?"

Raidou shook his head.

His mother sighed. "Of course not. Men never seem to notice these things. Have you ever noticed when your sister gets hit on, and is uncomfortable by it?"

He nodded. Of course, he usually settled things like that by punching the men involved . . .

His mother nodded once and stirred her soup vigorously.

That was it? Raidou waited.

That was it. He frowned. His mind worked, trying to link everything his mother had--and hadn't--said. "You don't think he's . . . they pulled Mizuki out of school?"

She said nothing.

"But Mizuki said his father hadn't done anything?"

She gave the soup one last forceful stir, then clanged the spoon against the side and set it down. "No one knows anything. He's never done anything that could get him in trouble, and he's a good fighter. We need good fighters right now. But I've told your brothers to stay clear of him. Just like I told you."

Raidou let his arm fall away from his mother's shoulders, frowning.

She paused, smiling slightly, a hand on his arm. "It's probably nothing. Come on. Dinner."

**

Friday, 2:12

Iruka threw the stone as hard as he could, watching it arc up and away. It splooshed into the stream, the flash of water hidden by the tumble of the creek over rocks. He grabbed another rock and threw it, harder this time.

It made it almost to the other bank.

"You could go farther if you'd use your chakra to boost," a voice called from behind and above him.

Iruka shrugged, then turned to look up. "Hey, Mizuki. You back already?"

"Geez, sound a little happier to see me, why don't you," Mizuki mumbled, jumping down out of his tree. "What's wrong with you?"

Iruka rubbed his scar self-consciously, then shrugged.

"Shouldn't you be with your team? Doing D-ranked missions?" Mizuki asked, smirking.

Iruka kicked another stone. "I got suspended."

Mizuki's eyebrows rose. "For what?"

"Painting obscene pictures on the cows."

Mizuki crowed and punched Iruka's shoulder.

Iruka smiled weakly, spirits slowly lifting. "It was pretty good," he said after a minute. "I stole the anatomy book from the library, so they were all correct . . ."

"Oh, man, I wish I'd seen that," Mizuki laughed.

"It's still there. They couldn't get them clean."

Mizuki's eyes gleamed, and a moment later they were zipping through the trees, landing at the edge of the field where newly multi-colored cows were grazing.

"That's brilliant," Mizuki laughed, watching a giant penis ripple as the cow walked along.

"Hey! You kids! Get out of here!" a farmer shouted, face turning red.

"Fuck you, man! We weren't doing nothing!" Mizuki bellowed back, but then grabbed Iruka's arm and started pulling him through the forest before the man could catch up.

They collapsed in a heap eventually, tucked into an old, moss-covered tree. Mizuki reached over and tugged Iruka's ear, grinning.

Iruka pulled away.

Mizuki's smile faltered. "Hey," he said, leaning over and peering up at Iruka's face. "What's wrong?"

Iruka hesitated. "Your dad does that ear thing, too," he said, slowly. He remembered it clearly--uncomfortably. Feeling the man tug his ear gently, then a big hand landing on his neck and staying there. Rubbing little circles with his thumb while they had tea, smiling and making small talk before his hand finally fell away.

It was just a thing they did. Both of them--Mizuki and his father. That was all.

"Oh, yeah? I guess that's where I got it," Mizuki said, still looking at him oddly.

The memory made him feel vaguely ill. Iruka shifted uncomfortably. Normally, he would have told Mizuki about it, and Mizuki would have laughed with him and they would have made fun of whoever it was that unsettled Iruka, and that would be it.

But this was Mizuki's father. Mizuki's father was one of his friends. He'd been nice to Iruka when everyone else in the village was avoiding him. Mizuki's father even said he shouldn't hate them, because people were just unsure of what to say. They didn't want to hurt him, saying something about his parents, so they just avoided him.

Michio was nice. Michio was his friend.

"What is your problem?" Mizuki asked, obviously exasperated.

"I--your dad did that, and I didn't like it," Iruka blurted.

Mizuki went still.

"I mean, he's really nice and all, but--I don't know. It just felt funny," Iruka tried to explain, realizing with horror that he'd just said something mean to his best friend.

Mizuki pulled a knee up, bracing his arm on it. He picked moss off the branch they were sitting on and dropped it, watching as it fell through sunlight and shadow before hitting the ground far below.

"Mizuki?" Iruka asked.

"Why did it feel funny?"

Iruka squirmed. "I don't know. It just did. He touches me all the time."

Mizuki eyed him. "I touch you all the time. Should I stop?" he asked, a nasty gleam in his blue eyes.

"It's different when you do it," Iruka said.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Mizuki snapped. "Touching is touching. Did he touch you in a different place than I do? Or with a different feeling?"

"No," Iruka said miserably. He glared at the tree, ripping off a bit of bark and throwing it.

"So you're just being weird. Whatever. My dad likes you, dead-last."

Iruka flinched. "Yeah. Sorry. I must have just had a weird night or something."

Mizuki glared at him again. Iruka kept staring downward, embarrassed and ashamed. "Sorry," he said again.

"Yeah. Whatever. I should go home. I haven't let Dad know I'm back." He stood, and Iruka resisted the urge to look up or fling himself at Mizuki's feet, begging him to stay.

A moment later Mizuki had vanished.

Iruka ripped another chunk of bark off the tree and threw it again.

**

Friday, 7:45

Evening light filtered through the curtains, casting a cool glow through the house. A breeze fluttered, brushing over Iruka. He curled tighter on the couch his parents had bought, pulling his book closer to his face.

Nothing had changed since they'd died. He'd seen to that.

A knock on the door made him look up. Carefully marking his place in the chapter, Iruka unfolded and stood.

He peered out the window, and saw Michio looking right at him.

He didn't really want to see Michio right now. Not after what had happened earlier, and Mizuki had probably told his father, and--

Iruka wilted and opened the door. "Michio-san," he said, bowing slightly.

"Iruka. May I come in?"

Iruka stepped away from the door.

Michio walked into his house, and Iruka closed the door behind him.

"It always amazes me that the village lets young men like yourself live alone," Michio said, looking around.

Iruka fidgeted. "Yeah," he said finally. "I suppose."

Michio turned to face him. "Iruka, Mizuki told me about your conversation today."

Iruka's gaze fell. Of all the stupid things--He closed his eyes and swallowed. He didn't want Michio to hate him. Michio was nice, and Iruka was just being ridiculous and rude and . . . and . . .

"Iruka, I'm sorry."

He stared hard at his hands. "Me too." He didn't look up, not even when Michio sighed.

"Can we sit down?" the man asked.

Iruka walked slowly to the couch and sat on the edge, feeling the cushions dip under the other man's weight.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Michio said quietly.

Iruka kept staring at his hands. He was humiliated. How could Mizuki have told his father? It had just been a mistake. That was all.

"Look, Iruka . . . I feel like I've watched you grow up. You're a remarkable young man."

Iruka glanced sideways. It wasn't often he heard people say that about him.

"You've helped Mizuki through some hard times, and I appreciate that. You've managed to keep yourself going, even through your parent's death and living here, alone. You remind me a bit of myself, and I feel like we're friends. Not that I'm simply your friend's father, but that you're someone I can talk to."

Iruka shifted uncomfortably. He felt the same way about Michio, and the man was someone he looked up to. He was a powerful ninja, and Mizuki's father.

"I like to think you can talk to me about things, too," Michio said soothingly. "That you can come to me with problems. You're certainly old enough to make your own decisions, if you're living alone. Old enough to do as you please. I see others treat you like a child, and I don't think it's fair."

Iruka had to agree with that. He bet an adult wouldn't be suspended from missions for painting cows.

"And I admit I like you. Probably more than I should. I'm sorry," Michio said quietly.

Iruka glanced at him, then away. "It's okay," he said finally, unsure what else he should say.

"Why don't I make us some tea?" Michio asked. "We should sort this out. We're both alone, Iruka. Neither of us can afford to lose friends over something so silly."

Iruka frowned down at his hands while Michio stood, heading to the kitchen.

The kitchen still had his mother's things in it; her towels and oven mitts, the spatula she'd left on a hot pan when Iruka had sliced his face open. The plastic had melted into interesting shapes; she'd said she was going to keep it as a reminder.

Michio was digging through cupboards when Iruka realized that his mother would be very disappointed in his hosting skills. He leapt up, running into the kitchen and past the man, grabbing the kettle out of a drawer and stuffing it under the faucet to fill. "I'll do that," he said quickly.

"My, aren't you the perfect host," Michio said approvingly. "Your parents obviously raised you with manners. Another thing to admire."

Iruka smiled, pleased beyond reason. It felt good to have something nice said about him.

The man didn't leave the kitchen. Iruka shuffled around, pulling out the tea cups--he had to get a chair to reach, which was vaguely embarrassing--and saucers, putting loose leaves in the teapot.

Michio watched him through all of it.

"Won't Mizuki be worried?" Iruka asked after a long time, to break the silence.

"He knows where I am. He's all right for a night alone."

Iruka shuffled his feet and waited for the kettle to whistle.

"You have lovely eyes."

He looked up, then back down. He didn't squirm. He did, however bite his lip and smile self-consciously. "Thanks."

"I'm sorry. I'm making you uncomfortable again." Michio smiled and shifted closer, right up next to Iruka. Iruka folded his arms and gnawed on the inside of his mouth, unsure of what to say. He didn't want Michio to be upset with him. It was just a misunderstanding. That was all.

"Mizuki wasn't supposed to tell you about any of that," he said quietly.

Michio sighed. "I know. But I'm glad he did. It's good to get things out in the open." His hand landed on the back of Iruka's neck, and Iruka flinched. "Relax," the man said, flexing his fingers, digging the pads into the tense muscles running into Iruka's scalp. "I'm not going to hurt you, Iruka-kun."

Iruka looked up, and offered a weak smile. "I know."

"I just want to be friends."

"I know," he said again. Michio was rubbing, trying to soothe the knots out of his muscles. Iruka could have told him it wasn't going to work.

The kettle screamed.

Iruka jumped for it, nearly grabbing the metal handle with his bare skin. Michio's hand wrapped around his wrist, fingers nearly touching.

"Careful," the man said, handing him a dish towel.

Iruka took it. The man let him go. He poured the water into the teapot and put the lid on, then put it and some cups on a tray and headed toward the other room.

He could sense Michio following.

"You must get lonely, living here by yourself," Michio said, settling down at the table.

Iruka shrugged, poured tea, and sat cross-legged.

"You don't have to be alone, you know," Michio said.

Iruka glanced up. "I'm not. Not really. I have Mizuki--" he hesitated.

"And me?" The tone was almost hopeful.

Iruka looked at his tea. He wanted to say yes. He liked Michio, and he didn't want the man to go, but it felt weird, every time Michio touched him. He was just being paranoid, he told himself. He shouldn't think bad things about people. It wasn't like many people liked him; he couldn't afford to drive away those who did. "Yes." He blew on his tea.

"Rattling around in this house by yourself, day after day. It must get tiring, to live where you were once happy and loved, and now have no one but yourself."

Something responded. Something in his throat, maybe, recognizing what Michio said as truth. "It's not that bad," he said quietly.

"Everything must remind you of your parents. Do you miss them, still?"

He could remember his mother, coming through that doorway, smiling and laughing. He remembered clinging to his father's back while the man ran around, yelling that the fifth Hokage--Iruka--had been injured, and quick, they needed a medic! Remembered tea with his parents. The gentle way his mother would chide him for manners and--

He cleared his throat, feeling it tighten.

"You must miss them," Michio said quietly.

Iruka nodded and didn't look up. He heard Michio shift, and felt the man settle down next to him. Wrap an arm around his shoulders.

Iruka hesitated, then followed the pull and tucked himself into the man's side. Michio was big, and looming, and could beat back anyone who didn't like him. And at the moment, he was human.

It had been two and a half years since Iruka had felt another human.

Michio's hand slid down his back, and then up again. He repeated it, slower. Threaded his hand up over Iruka's hair and pulled the band out, letting it all fall down. He combed it softly, working out tangles.

Iruka stared hard at his hands. It didn't feel like when his mother had done it. But Michio was nice. Michio liked him. He was just overreacting. And it was good to be held.

A big hand ran down his skull, around the shell of his ear, and over his neck. It rubbed softly along the edge of his jaw.

"You all right?" Michio asked quietly.

Iruka nodded. He was good. This was better. Michio's hands felt strange, brushing against his jaw, but that was all right.

"We've figured things out?" Michio asked, his voice very close.

Iruka could feel breath on the top of his head. He nodded again.

"All right. I have to go."

Iruka cringed. "Okay."

Michio ran a hand down his hair again, then leaned over and kissed his temple.

Iruka started to flinch, then remembered he'd seen Michio do the same thing to Mizuki. It was okay. It was a father-thing. The man's lips felt wet on his skin, though, and it wasn't pleasant. He scolded himself--he shouldn't be thinking bad things when someone was trying to be nice.

Then Michio stood. "Maybe I'll see you soon."

Iruka nodded. After Michio left, he put all the tea things back in the kitchen, carefully rinsing out the pot and all the teacups so nothing would stain. Then, after a moment's debate, he decided to take another shower.

******************