It was the end of the day before Iruka saw Hayate again. He was relieved for the break, but it didn't make the meeting any less humiliating.

Iruka couldn't meet his gaze. They stood together in the mission office, Iruka shuffling from foot to foot, waiting to drop off the report from his last assignment.

Hayate inched closer. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Iruka's eyes snapped up and he looked around as if someone, upon hearing that single word, might deduce what had happened. "Uh, it's okay," he mumbled back.

"No it's not," Hayate said to the floor. "I mean, I know how you get when Mizuki--I didn't mean to push you into anything--"

Iruka looked at Hayate for the first time. The other man was glowering at the tile, as if it had a hand in this, and two spots of color rode high on his cheeks. "You didn't push me into it," Iruka said quickly.

Hayate looked up. Iruka looked away.

"Are you sure?" Hayate asked.

Iruka nodded, feeling his face go red. "I was really, really drunk. I mean, I wouldn't do it again--" he stopped, realizing that if he was really drunk again he might, then shook his thoughts clear. "But you didn't push me into it. It's just--" he paused, glancing around, and leaned closer so he could lower his voice. "I'm not gay."

Hayate nodded. "I know. And I wouldn't have done that, except I was really drunk, too--"

This time it was Iruka's turn to nod. "I know."

They stood in awkward silence.

"Don't tell anyone, okay?" Iruka murmured.

Hayate glanced at him. "I wouldn't."

Iruka tried not to breathe a sigh of relief. "Hey," he said, offering a tentative smile. "That wasn't as bad as I expected."

"Our talk? Or . . . before?" Hayate asked uncertainly.

Iruka's blush returned and brought friends. "The talk. But, uh, before wasn't bad either. Kinda nice." If it was possible to die from mortification, that statement would have killed him. He was certain of it. Hastily, he added, "You being a guy and all."

Hayate smiled, embarrassed. "Ah, glad you had fun." Even his ears turned pink.

Iruka chuckled, scratching at the base of his ponytail. "Maybe next time we drink, we should have chaperones," he said wryly.

Hayate snickered.

**

The next day was the big one: the first of the teaching exams. Iruka wrote his paper, relieved to see it was something he knew a bit about, then waited anxiously until the end of the day--when their scores would be posted.

The top twenty papers would get interviews. Of those, ten would go on to the next exam--a physical one--and then as many people as they needed could, in theory, pass. This session they only needed two new teachers; anyone else with marks high enough would be held in for emergencies. Others might become teaching assistants, might go back for more schooling, or could return to normal missions. It was up to them.

Iruka stood outside the school, feeling overly large as academy students poured around him. Somehow, the schoolyard had seemed *bigger* when he'd been young.

"Hey."

Iruka glanced up and offered Mizuki a brief smile. "How do you think you did?" he asked, picking nervously at a hangnail.

Mizuki gave him a cocky grin. "Please. It was about explaining basic jutsus, and I can do those in my sleep."

Iruka nodded, though he didn't feel Mizuki's confidence. Mizuki could do anything ninja in his sleep. Iruka always felt like he was just one step behind, and Mizuki tried to help him, but, well, it almost made things worse. Every time Mizuki corrected his seals or suggested a way to make a jutsu more powerful, Iruka was left feeling stupid that he hadn't thought of it before.

It was silly, and he told himself that repeatedly. Mizuki was only trying to help.

He was never going to make teacher. Iruka groaned and flopped back against the wall. "I failed. I know it," he muttered unhappily.

"Hey, now," Mizuki said, slapping his shoulder. "You're not going to get anywhere with an attitude like that." He grinned mockingly. "Try your hardest!" he piped, then rolled his eyes.

"Exams are up!" someone bellowed from inside.

Iruka whipped around and lurched up the steps, eager to see what he'd gotten--despite being sure he was going to fail. He had to push and shove past the other young men (and the single woman), all trying to see if they'd qualified. Groans of dismay were broken by cries of delight, and eventually Mizuki shoved someone--hard--and people cleared off enough for Iruka and Mizuki to see their marks.

Iruka looked at the bottom of the list first; everything was alphabetical by surname. Umino, Umino . . .

He stared. Then he glanced at other peoples' scores. Then he stared again. "Mizuki," he said slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "I got in. I got in!" he yelled, whipping around and grabbing his friend's shoulders. He jumped, cloth wrinkling in his hands.

Then he realized Mizuki was glowering.

"You got in too, right?" Iruka asked, calming quickly.

Mizuki just shrugged free and stormed out of the building. Iruka scanned quickly for his name, then sighed.

Mizuki was in, but he didn't have the highest score.

**

After Iruka had spent an hour cheering Mizuki up, he went to get his paper. Iruka picked it up, whistling.

By the time he got home, though, his mood was black. "Tani!" he bellowed, slamming into the house.

"She's in the yard," Hanayo answered, looking at him in surprise. "What's wrong?"

"She marked my paper," Iruka snapped, waving it around. "First off, it's completely unfair that *she* should mark my paper, because she's practically my sister! And second, she marked me *far* harder than I should have been!"

Apparently, all his shouting and near-shouting had alerted Tani; his foster sister came walking into the room, a sunburn sprinkled over her nose. "Oh, please. You can write so much better than that, Iruka. I know. I've lived with you." Despite the fact that she was several years older than he was, Tani stuck her tongue out at him.

"You're not supposed to grade comparing to what the student *could* do!" Iruka yelled, waving his paper around again. "You're supposed to grade according to a set of standards!"

Tani shrugged.

"Look at this! Look at this!" Iruka yelled, marching up to Hanayo. "It's covered in red!"

"Really," Tani scoffed. "Weren't you still in the top ten?"

"Barely!" Iruka shouted. "And no thanks to you!"

Tani waved a hand dismissingly.

"She corrected my *grammar,*" Iruka snarled. "Grammar! We weren't supposed to be getting corrected on grammar!"

"If you're going to teach, you'd better know your stuff," Tani said primly.

Iruka turned to glare at her. "This is *not* fair."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it? Make them test you again? You passed. Get over it," Tani shot back.

"I want your word--on your *honor*--that you won't score any of my other exams, or be involved in the interviews," Iruka said quickly.

Tani's eyebrows shot up. "I could just get you in--"

"Which also wouldn't be fair. Your word, Tani."

She hesitated, then nodded once.

Iruka relaxed a little bit. He didn't want to get tossed because Tani thought he could do better, and he didn't want to get in because she thought that was what he wanted. What he wanted was to do this on his own.

"I guess you have more guts than I gave you credit for," Tani mumbled after a minute. "Sorry." She stepped close and kissed his forehead. Iruka glared at her, but didn't move away.

He watched her leave, heading into the kitchen.

He wanted his parents to be proud of him.

**

"Okay, so a kid is practicing with a kunai and he stabs his friend. What do you do?" Raidou asked, setting a glass of water in front of Iruka.

Iruka glared at him. "Raidou, they aren't going to ask me questions like that," he said testily. "Think of something better."

"All right, all right, pushy little punk," Raidou muttered. "Ummmm . . . why did you fail your last mission?"

Iruka's head snapped up. "I didn't fail it!" Then he started to blush. "Well, all right, but--"

"Exactly. Why?"

Iruka took a deep breath to calm himself, then began. "A teammate was injured. I could get him medical help, and delay the transfer of the scroll by two hours. I decided to get the help he needed."

"What if that scroll had contained important information? You could have cost lives," Raidou said sternly.

Iruka tried not to squirm. "I was aware that the scroll was not of great import."

"What about--" Raidou was interrupted by the door opening.

Genma slouched in, senbon twisting between, over, and around the fingers of one hand. "Got mail."

"The Hokage said I did the right thing, Raidou," Iruka muttered. He saw Raidou slant him a little smile, but wasn't amused.

"You did. But that's the kind of thing they'll pick on," the Jounin said.

"Huh," Genma mumbled.

"They will," Raidou defended.

Genma waved a hand around. "Not that. Look." He rolled up the scroll he'd been reading and tossed it toward Raidou. It began to unravel mid-air, but Raidou caught it easily anyway.

Raidou's eyebrows slowly rose. His lips tipped upward, into a smile.

"What?" Iruka asked, curiosity eating at him.

Raidou laughed and looked up. "Genma's been elected to be promoted to Special Jounin."

Genma stuffed both hands in his pockets, ducking his head. A blush was creeping up his neck. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing!" Iruka yelped, leaping up and grabbing the scroll from Raidou. He read it himself, then looked at Genma, grinning madly. "That's wonderful!"

"Yeah, whatever," Genma muttered. "They promote me just in time for peace."

Iruka snorted. "Please, Genma. They're acknowledging that you've been doing the work of a Jounin!"

"They just feel bad that I keep failing the tests." Genma dropped the rest of the mail on the couch and pulled off his shoes.

"Would you stop?" Raidou laughed. "It means that maybe you can't pass the tests because they're too rigid, but you can do the same work in the field!"

"No, it just means I have a specialty that makes up for a deficit," Genma shot back. "It's *not* a big deal."

"You're impossible!" Raidou said, shaking his head.

Genma shrugged. "Anyone else want something to drink?"

Iruka was still looking over the scroll, eyes memorizing all the little seals and characters. The Hokage himself had signed it. Iruka sighed wistfully. When he looked up, Raidou was smiling at him. He smiled back, rolled the scroll up, and handed it over.

"We should hang it up or something," Raidou called.

"Please don't embarrass me like that," Genma called back.

"And I bet Hanayo will want to throw a big party," Iruka suggested, just to get a rise out of Genma.

"Can we just not tell her?" Genma whined, walking back into the room.

Raidou started to laugh. "Hey, you've been saying you're bored. It'll give us something to do."

"I was thinking we could have sex in really awkward places," Genma answered, leaning against the wall with a glass in his hand.

"Guys," Iruka groaned.

"Like behind the ramen shop."

Iruka glared. "That's disgusting."

"So we'll have to be careful not to get caught." Genma grinned wickedly.

Iruka glanced at Raidou, then rubbed his face. Raidou looked *thoughtful.* That was always dangerous. "You two seriously need to go back to war," he mumbled. "Having you loose and bored is terrifying."

They both only laughed. It wasn't particularly soothing.

"Ah, the truce'll be good--for however long it lasts," Genma said, perching on the back of the couch. "After that whole Uchiha thing earlier this year, we're even lower on ninja than before."

Iruka nodded, frowning. The massacre had been . . . difficult. The Hyuugas were still trying to re-build the police force to its former levels. They were working on a skeleton crew now, with other clans coming in to help. It wasn't nearly as efficient as the Uchiha force had been, but there was only one Sharingan. Now, there was just a single Uchiha left in the village--and he was only eight. No one seemed quite sure what to do with him. In fact, Iruka wasn't sure what had happened to him--after everything had quieted, the boy had just faded into the background. Another orphan in a village full of them.

Iruka rubbed the scar across his nose, then eyed both of the men before him. "Your mom's been talking about starting an orphanage," he said slowly.

Raidou looked up. "Yeah, I'd heard. Now that Akeno's working toward the Chuunin exams, I think she's missing having little snotstains around the house. Besides," Raidou shrugged, grinning wryly. "She's good with little punk-asses like you."

Iruka just smiled. "Yeah." Then he took a deep breath, glancing at the scroll with the Hokage's signature. "I've been thinking . . . well, the Hokage is keeping my house in trust for me, but *I* don't really need it . . ." His gaze slid sideways. Genma was watching him steadily, leaning back against the wall, feet propped up on the seat of the couch. Raidou was leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

"You sure about that, Iruka?" Raidou asked.

"Yeah, kid," Genma added. "Wasn't it your parents'?"

Iruka nodded slowly. "Yeah, but . . . well, I'm moving into bachelor quarters in the fall, and besides, it's pretty big just for me." He smiled lopsidedly. "I'm not getting married any time soon. Anko and I broke up anyway."

"You weren't marrying Anko," Raidou snorted.

"Yeah. She was scary. Even just for a Chuunin--" Genma reached out, flicking Raidou's shoulders with the backs of his knuckles to get his attention. "And now that I'm practically a Special Jounin, I can say that."

Iruka smiled, dropping his gaze as Raidou's eyes went warm. He waited a beat, then cleared his throat.

"If she really is looking at opening an orphanage," Raidou said, "then I'm sure Mom would love your house. But she doesn't *need* it. Don't do this because you're being a martyr, okay?"

Iruka shook his head quickly, feeling the sway of his ponytail. "I'm not. I just . . . it's sitting empty, and . . ." he frowned, trying to put his feelings into words. "I think my parents would like that." He felt, more than saw, Raidou's hand hover over him for a moment. Then the man tugged his hair. Iruka twisted to smile up, even if it was a little sad.

"You've thought about this?"

Iruka nodded.

Raidou tugged gently again. "Your parents would be proud of you."

Iruka blushed and stared at his feet. He sighed softly. "I hope so."

**

Iruka sat at the child's desk, wondering if they put the interviewees here just to make them feel ridiculous.

It would be a good tactic to throw people off their guard. It was also working. He tried not to fidget, his knees bumping the underside of the wood.

Before him sat five people; four of the teachers on the hiring board, and the Hokage, who always sat in on these sorts of things.

"So, Iruka, tell me about why you want to be a teacher," the first man said, looking at a sheaf of papers.

Iruka's mouth went dry. He grinned nervously, realized his knee was jiggling, and stopped. He couldn't think of a thing to say.

Then he caught the Hokage's eye. The man smiled ever so slightly and tipped his head just a bit.

Iruka took a deep, calming breath, and looked steadily at the first of the interviewers.

His answers weren't inspired, he didn't think, but they were honest. He didn't get rattled too badly again, and managed to keep himself calm enough to remember to think before speaking.

It wasn't until the last interviewer that the questions got to be a bit more than he'd expected.

"Tell us about Touji Michio," the woman said, looking at him steadily.

Iruka's smile froze on his face. "I'm sorry?" he asked, and his voice didn't break.

"Michio. I understand you had some problems with him as a child," she said again. Her eyes flickered down to her paper, and Iruka realized she was uncomfortable.

She knew exactly what she was asking.

He forced himself not to panic. He settled back in his chair, stiff as it was, and folded his hands on the desk. "I don't see how that has any bearing--"

"You're going to work with children," the first interviewer said. "Everything has bearing."

Iruka stared at him, wishing he could hate the man and understanding their caution. "I knew Michio for a few years before he started molesting me. It went on for several weeks, and then a friend found out. I was removed from that situation and sent to live with the Namiashis. I've been there ever since." His stomach was writhing, but it didn't show in his voice. He could be proud of that.

"I understand you didn't want to be removed," the woman said, still looking at her papers.

He watched her steadily, refusing to let her pretend like none of this bothered him. It could bother him, and he could still answer, damn it. This *wasn't* going to hound him for the rest of his life. "I suffered from the same belief that most children in that situation do," he said. "I had no other family, and few friends." Suddenly, he wondered if Mizuki had been given these same questions. But then, at the time Mizuki had denied everything. "I was afraid of losing Michio, and believed he loved me. I know better now."

The woman looked at him at last, an apology in her eyes. "Thank you for your honesty," she said simply. Then she looked back down, and he realized the apology wasn't just for the previous questions. Iruka braced himself. "Something has been brought to our attention, and we'd like to make sure," she said, hedging.

Iruka's heart leapt erratically in his chest. What else *was* there?

"We are newly aware that your foster sister, Namiashi Tani, is a teacher here. Another applicant suggested you may have gotten in due to her tampering. That, in fact, you may be carrying on relations with her."

Iruka just stared. 'Relations'? With *Tani?* "It's true she graded my paper," he said slowly, "and I'd be more than willing to hand it back, so you can grade it again. But we're most certainly *not* having relations. She's my *sister.*" The very idea repulsed him.

"So you're saying she didn't influence your decision to become a teacher?"

"Yes, she influenced it," Iruka said, feeling anger rise and boil in his chest. "But not in that way! She suggested I look into it, but she didn't--we aren't--"

"I apologize again," the woman said smoothly.

Iruka could feel his face go beet red, and didn't even *want* to look at the Hokage. It was too humiliating.

"We just had to be sure," the woman said.

Iruka nodded stiffly. He didn't trust himself to speak. He was doing everything honestly, he'd even yelled at Tani for trying to help--sort of--and he was being accused of sleeping his way into a teaching position? It was too much!

The rest of the interview was short-lived. Thankfully, they let him go after dropping their hardest questions.

Iruka stormed out of the academy, livid. There was only one person who was likely to make the connection between him and Tani, and--

Mizuki *wouldn't.* He *wouldn't.*

Yet, Iruka found himself at Mizuki's house, pounding on the door.

The silver-haired Chuunin answered, looking belligerent and annoyed with the world. "Hey, Iruka. What's up?" he asked disinterestedly.

"I just came from my interview," he said tightly.

"Oh? They ask you questions about my dad, too?"

"They asked me about Tani. *Tani*, Mizuki! Did you tell them I was *sleeping* with her?" He was shouting, but couldn't seem to stop.

"Crap, Iruka, I was flustered, okay? There they were, asking me all these fucking questions about whether or not my dad fucked me--"

"Mizuki!" Iruka nearly bellowed. "That doesn't give you the right--"

"What the hell do you know anyway, huh?" Mizuki yelled right back, rage erupting from somewhere within. "I had to throw them off! Make them think about something else!"

"So you *lied* about me? I almost lost that stupid interview--"

"Oh, please, Iruka," Mizuki snarled. He took two steps forward, out of the doorway of the house, and Iruka fell back. "You wouldn't have lost the interview," Mizuki continued. "People here *love* you. The fucking Hokage himself keeps an eye on you! They look at me like I'm the scum of the earth--and I haven't done a damned thing!"

Iruka pulled away, stunned in the face of such rage. "The Hokage looks after me because he looks after all of us--"

"Please!" Mizuki scoffed. "When you went tattling about my father, it was him who made sure everything worked out okay for you!"

Iruka jumped as if stung. "If you'd told him about you and your dad, he would have watched over you, too," he said, flushed and angry.

"Bullshit! I'd have been looked at like I am now--the fucking pervert everyone should stay away from! I *hate* this fucking village, and they just think you're the golden child! Umino Iruka, who can do no wrong and is a poor little baby who was orphaned and then molested! Give me a fucking break!"

"Stop it! Just stop!" Iruka yelled, anger, humiliation, guilt and shame all churning inside. He was shaking, overwhelmed with emotion. Mizuki's rage was beyond what was rational, and his own was mounting to meet it. None of it made sense, and he couldn't think clearly.

"No! I won't stop!" Mizuki snarled. "You know what? I'm *sick* of everyone treating you like you're something special, and I'm *sick* of being treated like the shit on people's boots! Look! Look at what I told them, and nothing fucking happened! Nothing bad *ever* happens you to!"

"The village supports us," Iruka said, scrambling for something--anything--to say.

"No, Iruka, the village supports *you* and I'm fucking sick of it! The village treats me like I've done something wrong--and I *haven't*! Get out! Get the fuck out!"

Iruka jumped away. The door slammed.

He stared in shock, hurt, astonishment--too many emotions to label just one. He backed away slowly. Staggered down the steps. Walked, shell-shocked, down the street.

Slowly, emotion returned. It brought anger. Rage. The village treated him well because he'd told them what happened. He tried to be nice. Mizuki had hidden it, did mean things because he was rage-filled and hurt--a small part of Iruka's mind felt guilty at that. Mizuki had a reason to feel that way. Terrible things had happened, and Mizuki had never gotten out of it, even now lived in his father's house. He shouldn't say Mizuki did mean things, because there was a *reason.*

But no one else knew that. The village was good to Iruka, because Iruka was good to the village. Mizuki wasn't. Whatever the reason, Mizuki wasn't.

That *wasn't* Iruka's fault.

By the time he got home, he was hurting.

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

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