Chapter 6
Iruka waited for his company at a corner table in his favorite bar. He liked places where no one asked questions—or commented on how much he was drinking. It was a haven for shinobi who didn't want to be judged, a place to drink in peace before facing another day of their miserable lives. Or maybe most of them just came to enjoy the quiet.
Iruka had been coming here since his sensei died. He knew he wasn't one to blame. After all, he, no matter what he did, could have changed the outcome. But that didn't stop him from feeling like shit.
The first time he came here was to grieve with his teammates. Well, he guessed he never stopped grieving. So, he never stopped coming here; the Uchiha incident only made it all worse for him. And so he was stuck here for most of the time, thinking of what-ifs.
"Called to the principal's office two days in a row," Suzume commented as she took a seat across from him. "That's a first. Especially on someone's first two days on the job. One has to wonder if you didn't do it on purpose."
"Every action has a purpose," Iruka replied flatly. "What it serves remains to be seen."
"Well, you've certainly gotten people's attention," Suzume said, folding her arms. "It's only a matter of time before everyone starts talking. Are you sure you want that? It could be troublesome if someone takes offense at how you conduct yourself around their children and the future of the village's shinobi force."
Iruka knew exactly what she was getting at. But he couldn't care less about a bunch of disillusioned parents. At worst, they'd try lecturing him about what was "proper" or threaten to escalate matters to the higher-ups.
If he could spend eight hours submerged in freezing water stalking a target, he could sit through the half-baked outrage of some self-important civilians and ignore their noise for a few hours.
The only people Iruka listened to were someone he respected and knew had something to say. Other's opinion mattered as little as little shit he could give about them. Still, he had to make sure he didn't cross boundaries that could get him in some serious trouble. He wasn't an idiot.
"So," Suzume asked as he remained silent, sipping his drink, "you going to talk, or just drink yourself to death?"
"We're still one short. Wait a minute, would you?"
"You're cute, but not that cute to suggest that I do this with an extra," Suzume replied, and if her deliver wasn't so flat, he might have believed she was serious. "And I have better things to do, so this had better be worth my time."
"Do you care about what you teach?" Iruka asked, surprising Suzume. "Or is the Academy just a place to hide—a comfortable corner where no one bothers you anymore?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean."
"You mean a place like this?" She asked, motioning to the quiet bar. "Where you think you are safe from your thoughts. Or rather, thoughts of others. Stuck, not able to move on, and drinking until you don't feel a thing."
"It does help," Iruka replied. "It is as helpful as immersing yourself into work, dedicating every second of your life to teaching children. Still stuck with your past dragging you down to the darkest places in your head. And yet, at least you are alone and away from everyone else's eyes."
She didn't reply immediately, just stared at him before taking a cup for herself and pouring a drink from Iruka's bottle. At this point, the bartender knew to begin with a bottle when it came to Iruka.
"I've been an active shinobi since I was nine," she said, voice cool. "But I was never good at anything—just average looks, average skills. Forgettable. So, I used that. I got into places others couldn't without anyone noticing me. I was proud of that ability. That was before I discovered makeup—how a few strokes of powder could change everything."
"Don't," Iruka cut her off. "I know where this is going. How old were you? Fifteen?"
"Thirteen," she answered, making Iruka wince. "But it wasn't that bad. At least it wasn't some old fatso I had to pretend to be the plaything of."
"Does that matter?"
"It was my first time. For girls like me, it matters who it's with. Anyway, it didn't take long for the village to realize how useful I was. I was proud back then."
"But then the war ended," Iruka said.
"And with it, the need for people like me," Suzume finished. "At first, I was angry. But then I fell in love."
"What you did wasn't wrong."
"I know. But it's not easy to convince yourself of that. Not when you're lying in the same bed as the person you love. I started to wonder if I even deserved that love. The doubt just kept growing. And fear of what the person you love would feel if they found out about me. So yes, I chose the Academy as a place to hide—from judgment, from the world... from myself."
"And?"
"And I do care about what I teach," Suzume said. "I teach those girls how to be normal. How to accomplish what I did without sacrificing themselves. So they wouldn't grow afraid to fall in love like me."
"But they won't get far if they're not taught other skills," Iruka countered. "The kind the Academy avoids. Like poison. Or how to use people's weaknesses and exploit them. Skills that normal people wouldn't approve of."
Suzume didn't answer. But her silence was more than enough.
On paper, the reforms led by the civilians' concern for their children didn't seem to affect her curriculum. But the reality was different. The results were diluted and twisted. Subtle changes—just enough to limit potential. The fact that she was still listening meant she knew it, too.
"Iruka! Sorry, I'm late," Daikoku said as he spotted them and made his way to the table. "Suzume, I didn't expect to see you here."
"Are we waiting for someone else, or is this it?" Suzume ignored Daikoku and turned to Iruka.
"No, this is it."
"So, just the three of us?" She leaned back. "If you haven't noticed, we're a minority. Nothing's going to change with only us pushing back. Even if we don't like the system, who are we to decide what's right or wrong? Times change. Shinobi priorities shift. Maybe it's better to let go of the past."
"Bullshit," Iruka snapped, slamming back another drink. "The most important thing a shinobi should learn is how to survive. The world outside those walls remains a dangerous place. That hasn't changed. The civilians just decided to pretend otherwise. I won't stand by and let people suffer so these idiots can keep believing they live in a fantasy where nothing bad ever happens."
He poured another drink.
"But I can't do it alone."
"I suspected this would be about something like that," Daikoku said, taking his seat. "No—hoped. I agree with you, Iruka. Maybe this peace will last another ten years. I won't teach my students to run headfirst into war, but forgetting what we are, and why, just to satisfy the delusions of people who've never seen blood on their hands? That's not the way either. I want my students to understand the horrors of war so that they can appreciate the value of peace. Not just repeat empty ideals and lectures without any context behind them."
Iruka drank to Daikoku's words. He was more experienced than he let on. Like Iruka, he understood what was important and what was just pandering. Iruka knew he would like Daikoku, but he never expected to start respecting him.
"So, we've got a rebellious kid and a philosopher," Suzume muttered. "Sorry to say, I'd rather keep my head down than piss off half the village. I like how my life is going."
"Do you?" Iruka asked, downing another cup.
If she really believed that, she wouldn't have come. And like him, Suzume was done with the world of shinobi. She wanted peace, and she didn't want anyone else to go through what she had. The difference was that Iruka knew about what was to come.
"If we're doing this," she said, staying in her seat, "we can't win by preaching ideals. We'll lose that battle every time. We don't fight their beliefs. We expose the people behind them. We show the village they're unworthy of trust. The moment we do that, their ideals fall with them."
She was no fool. Suzume had done the kind of jobs that would make most shinobi break. She knew how the world worked. She knew that peace was only real if you were prepared to do what was needed to maintain it.
"Do you think I'd have called you here without something solid?" Iruka asked, handing her a folder full of documents and photos. "Look at this. How can their ideals be good for the village's future when most of them only care about their futures? These people preaching 'reform' are just greedy bastards trying to use the Academy to gain influence."
It was the rot festering beneath the surface of peace. As war had created opportunities for profit, so too had the fear of war. Parents no longer wanted their children to become high-ranking shinobi. They wanted them to be politicians. Bureaucrats. Tools for the family legacy. And that, Iruka couldn't allow.
"What do you want from us?" Daikoku asked as he flipped through the photos. "Looks like you've already done most of the work."
"This is just the surface," Iruka replied. "Hints, not proof. All of it can be waved off as donations or good intentions. I need something bigger. Something that can't be ignored. To get that, I'll need to flush them out."
"Flush who out?"
"The principal—and whoever's behind him," Iruka answered. "There's no way he got that position legitimately. And there's no way he's managed to change so much of the Academy on his own. How long's he been principal—three years?"
"This is his fifth year," Suzume corrected. "And yes, he's been confident from the start. Firing teachers over bullshit claims, and replacing staff with his friends. He always got away with it."
"I'll make him mad. So mad that he'll slip up. Do something stupid. He will try to get rid of me. But it won't work, that is, until he uses something underhanded. And when he does, I'll strike. I'll bring down all of them. I just need you two to have my back when it happens."
That's all Iruka wanted. A pair of people he could trust not to flinch when things got dirty. Sooner or later, the principal would make a mistake, and Iruka would be waiting. He will bring them all down. One way or another.
"I think you've had enough," Suzume said, placing a hand over his as he reached for another drink.
"Maybe you're right," he muttered, letting the cup go. "If you find anything useful, I'd appreciate it. And you can count on me to change the Academy for the better. As much as my word count, I promise you that."
He stood and left, leaving them to think. There was a lot to process, and it wasn't something they should be doing. It definitely wasn't something Iruka expected to be doing either. But Iruka didn't care. He was determined to prevent the Academy from becoming a tool for selfish ideals and political influence.
As he stepped out into the night, he stumbled for a moment before righting himself. Then, without hesitation, he pulled out his flask and started drinking again.
He was already drunk.
A little more wouldn't matter at this point.
A.N. There is a chapter. I apologize, but I will be changing the schedule for releasing new chapters from now on. No, it will on weekends, just have too much going on and too little time. I will now post on workdays.
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.