AN: Thanks to a post tumblr user narootos/naburos made a week or so ago, my love and appreciation for Iruka reared its head up and absolutely refused to budge until I did something with it. Never has there been a more underrated character with a softer and bigger heart than Umino Iruka. Apologies for any grammatical errors, I really had to just get this out so I can finally concentrate on my animation work for the week (I procrastinated so badly on that. I'm probably going to regret spending so much time writing this but let's be real, one can't really regret spending so much time with Iruka). Also, this is not in chronological order. It's not in any order, really. Just ten different sketches with ten different people. Enjoy!

1.

Iruka was among the first to know about the Uchiha massacre. Emergency summons came to him in the deadest hours of the night but not even the horror he knew from the Kyuubi attack all those years ago prepared him for what Sarutobi gravely told him.

His hair stood on to end and ice filled his veins as he heard how Itachi single-handedly killed each and every one of his clan- except for Sasuke.

The Sasuke Iruka knew was a hard working young boy, desperate to please and succeed despite the slightly stuck up attitude he showed in class. He adored his brother, respected his father, loved his mother, and his hard work and natural talent earned him easily the top student in the class.

Funny, how it was always so much easier and quicker to destroy happiness than it was to build it.

The Hokage's office buzzed with chuunin and jounin whispering about the tragedy, Itachi's skill and ruthlessness, wondering what could have caused him to go mad, speculating what he was planning now. Conspiracy theories flew and a betting pool was laid down as to when Itachi would be captured and what his punishment would be.

Iruka walked out of the office. All he could think of was not what or how or why of Itachi, but how Sasuke was doing.

Morning class was dismissed. Iruka watched sadly as parents hurried to gather their children up to take home. As soon as the last child was picked up, he gathered up his bag and headed to the apartment he knew Sarutobi had set Sasuke up in.

Iruka knocked politely and firmly on the door.

"Sasuke, it's Iruka-sensei." There was no answer but Iruka was not expecting one. He easily dismantled the lock on the door and let himself in. He could sense Sasuke's turbulent chakra signature shut in the bedroom.

Iruka set his bag down in the kitchen and unpacked the large lunch he made. He pulled extra containers of food out and stored them neatly in the fridge. After a moment's hesitation, he also plucked the tomatoes in his bag to put in the empty basket on the counter.

Iruka set up two spots on the table, sat down, and waited.

He sat there for hours. He waited still.

The bedroom door opened and Sasuke slowly walked out. The dead expression on his young face belonged on someone much older.

He sat down. Iruka picked up his chopsticks and they began to eat together. Neither of them ate much, Sasuke barely at all, but it was something.

They never talked. There was nothing to say.

Iruka continued to go over, mostly to drop food off and sometimes to eat, and he got the hint when the lock was changed.

But the end of the day the first time Sasuke returned to class since that awful night, Sasuke hesitated on the way out. After moment, he withdrew a tomato from his pocket and placed it deliberately on Iruka's desk before walking away.

2.

Iruka liked to bake. In the same way that Kakashi used porn to escape from daily life, Iruka had baking to take his mind off of work. Every Sunday morning, he would wake up early and spend the morning slowly mixing and measuring and assembling something delicious to eat for breakfast the coming week.

He never made the same thing twice. One week would be lemon raspberry scones, the next blueberry muffins. He adventurously tried making a pound cake once but decided that eating cake first thing in the morning was not a great idea.

He always ate whatever he baked for the week before class would start but Kiba liked to turn it into a game, trying to guess what 'sensei burned this week'. Iruka was always a little miffed at that, as his baking skills were more than adequate. Certainly good enough that nothing ever burned.

One week was cinnamon buns. He brought two in the morning, having made the batch in rather small servings, and took his time savouring the warm dough and heady scent of cinnamon. It was during that week he noticed Hinata sneaking more peeks than usual at the brown paper bag on his desk, curiosity and interest apparent in her lavender eyes before she would duck her head down in embarrassment and shame.

Iruka made it a point to never share his food with students. They were worse than seagulls. The moment it was apparent that there was food being given out, Iruka would find himself empty-handed faster than he could blink.

He had no qualms, however, slipping that extra cinnamon roll in Hinata's bag when they were all out on break with a note that simply read, 'Enjoy!'.

Periodically, whenever he made cinnamon rolls again, he always made sure to slip an extra one in Hinata's bag. Always so polite, Hinata would, without fail, leave a thank-you note and a pressed flower on his desk the following day.

Years and years later, Iruka stared, startled, at a pleading Naruto who asked his old sensei for help making cinnamon rolls.

"I don't recall you liking that that much," Iruka raised a brow in confusion.

"They're Hinata's favourite," Naruto responded. "Please Iruka-sensei? You know how much a disaster I am in the kitchen."

"That, no one needs a reminder of," Iruka shuddered. He paused. "You said cinnamon rolls are Hinata's favourites?"

"Yeah, since the Academy days she told me," Naruto answered.

"Huh," Iruka smiled. "Well, let's not disappoint her now."

3.

The night was young, the weekend was here, and for once there wasn't much work he had to bring home and finish. Still, Iruka didn't linger as he moved through the lit marketplace and between food stalls on his way home. A long week of teaching usually meant all he wanted to do, really, was sleep.

A boisterous voice boomed from Ichiraku's and Iruka jerked his head up, half expecting to see Naruto.

"You've never seen anything like it! He has such a heart, I tell you. And so much potential! He picked up the Rasengan so fast. But jeez, you should've seen him talk to Tsunade. I tell you, he has a gift." The voice was familiar, and most certainly he must've been talking about Naruto…

"Is that Iruka I see? Get over here!" the voice called him out and Iruka reluctantly made his way to the ramen bar. Passing around a stand, his eyes lit upon the flushed face and massive white mane of Jiraiya seated on one of the high stools, a sake cup held in his hands. Teuchi was chuckling behind the counter, evidently amused at Jiraiya's drunken ramblings.

"Jiraiya-sama," Iruka greeted the sannin respectfully as he slid into the seat beside him. "How is Naruto doing?"

"Splendidly," the older man raised his cup up enthusiastically, unmindful of the bit of sake that splashed over the rim. "He's a hard-headed idiot but I don't think I've seen such raw talent and power since…" his eyes darkened and his voice trailed off. After a moment, he seemed to pick himself back up again. "He's a brat. But he's a good kid."

"He talks about you often," Iruka offered up to Jiraiya. "He really looks up to you."

"Ah, he's like a grandson to me honestly," the hard lines on Jiraiya's face softened. "I wish I could've been there more for him when he was growing up." He contemplated the half-empty cup of sake before downing it all in one go.

"You're here now though," Iruka pointed out. "You know Naruto, he's never one to hold a grudge."

"Yes, he always sees the best in people," Jiraiya mused. "I heard how the villagers treated him. It's a wonder the kid isn't more messed up. He must've had a good role model to look up to." His dark eyes turned to look at Iruka. Iruka rubbed the scar across his nose self-consciously, and a bit of an embarrassed flush creeped up his neck.

"I didn't always think the best of him," Iruka admitted quietly. "But you're right. He's a good kid. He has the biggest heart I've ever seen. He just needed someone to believe in him."

He couldn't read the look in Jiraiya's eyes before the older man turned to Teuchi to signal for more sake.

"Like I said," Jiraiya turned back to him after Teuchi topped his cup again. He raised his cup up to Iruka in a toast. "He must've picked it up from somewhere."

4.

Lunch breaks and recess were times reserved for grading tests and catching a much needed breather. Iruka would sit at his desk with the windows open, enjoying what he could of the beautiful weather. The warm sun and slight breeze were always a welcome presence in his classroom and the laughter and chatter of his students was a wonderful reminder that he loved doing what he did.

There was time enough later for death and regrets and doubts in the world they lived in.

Not to say the sounds of his students was always laughter and fun. Too often yelling would replace chatter and before he knew it, he was outside breaking up a fight that got a little too serious and chastising to deaf ears.

It didn't happen too often, for which Iruka was thankful for, but enough that he was hardly surprised when the sounds of shouting met his ears one day as he was going through some assignments. He was about to rise out of his seat as the tones escalated and became heated but was stopped short by a piercing comment.

"You're just a girl! You'll never be as good as a shinobi!"

There was a cry of indignation and rage followed by jeering laughter.

Iruka stood up so suddenly he knocked his chair over. He opened the door leading to the yard outside so fast the door slammed loudly against the wall, grabbing everybody's attention. His eyes immediately landed on a young girl, hair in twin buns and dressed in a pink shirt decorated various scuff and dirt marks, her hands clenched in fists so tight she was positively vibrating with her anger. She was surrounded by three boys, who all instantly stepped away from her the moment they saw Iruka.

"Recess is over. Everyone come in for afternoon lessons."

Groans and protests met his ears with more than one cry of "We still have 15 minutes left!" but something in Iruka's expression left no room for argument. They all filed in quickly and settled in their seats with little fuss, sensing the tension from their normally easygoing and cheerful teacher.

"Now, I know we were going to be going over chakra usage for genjutsu versus ninjutsu this afternoon but it occurred to me that I've been a little neglectful of educating you guys on some of our most important and influential ninja." He saw the smug looks the three boys cast towards Tenten. "Let me start with one of the sannin whose skills as both a ninja and a medic won us the second shinobi world war: Senju Tsunade."

The innocence of his students was something Iruka cherished but as a teacher, what he loved seeing more was watching them understand and learn. His students were always a mixed bag of kids, hailing from prestigious clans to orphans. He couldn't always get them to listen and during particularly rough days he had to remind himself that he could only do so much if they didn't want to learn.

But he be damned to call himself a teacher if he didn't try.

He loved watching them learn and understand, but most of all, he was proudest when they took his lessons to heart and absolutely flew.

Tenten graduated that class as the top kunoichi, her marksmanship the best the academy had ever seen, and the three boys dropped out over the months leading up to the final exam. Iruka wasn't too concerned. Lessons shaped people in the way they needed most.

Tenten came to him, years later, to thank him for that class. She told him how it drove her to improve and gave her a reason to keep going when things got rough and when people, particularly men, doubted her. She told him how he gave her a foundation to stand up and build upon.

Iruka smiled, touched, at his former student, recalling all the times he heard of her prowess as a fierce and compassionate kunoichi whose fuinjutsu was unlike anything her peer group had ever seen.

"I gave you nothing that was not already there," he told her. "Everything you've become, was all because of you."

5.

Iruka was surprised, to say the least, to find Shikamaru in the diaper aisle of the convenience store of all places. The spiky-haired teen looked a little uncomfortable, but confusion dominated his features as his dark eyes and furrowed brow took in the vast selection before him.

Shikamaru tilted his head towards Iruka as he registered and acknowledged his presence and Iruka read a hint of a plea in his eyes. Taking pity, Iruka joined him in the middle of the aisle.

"Picking some things up for Kurenai-san?" Iruka asked amiable, an understanding smile on his face.

"Yeah," Shikamaru sighed. He slouched further back and buried his hands in the pockets of his pants. "So troublesome. Why are there so many different kinds of diapers?"

"I don't suppose you know what kind or what brand Mirai-chan wears," Iruka mused in reply. Shikamaru shook his head. "Then I would suggest going for this one. It's reasonably priced, soft, and it's pull on which means it shouldn't be itchy for Mirai-chan and easy for you or Kurenai-san to change her into." Iruka plucked a package off the shelf and handed it to Shikamaru.

Shikamaru was surprised, but took it all the same. "I wouldn't expect you to know so much about babies."

"I like kids," Iruka explained easily. He began to walk away, satisfied that Shikamaru needed no more help. "Say hi to Kurenai-san and Mirai-chan for me!"

Later that week, he was found taking the long way around the marketplace running errands, as the heat of the day made the crowd and heavy scent of cooking food uncomfortable, if not unbearable. Passing by Kurenai's small, modest house, he distinctly heard Kiba's voice cry out through the open window, "How the heck does Hinata do this?"

Pausing, Iruka debated whether or not it was really his business to interfere but that question was answered for him as a moment later, Akamaru's massive head stuck out the window and, upon seeing Iruka standing in the middle of the street, woofed at him.

Chuckling under his breath, Iruka knocked on the front door. He was greeted by a distressed Kiba, cradling a wailing baby Mirai in one arm and a half-empty bottle of milk in his free hand. His front was covered in milk splatters and as he led Iruka into the house, Iruka spotted some baby vomit on his shoulder.

"She won't drink," Kiba blurted out, forgoing pleasantries. "I've been trying for the past hour, but she just keeps crying…" He looks completely frazzled and clearly out of his element, but determination was what kept a firm but gentle hold on Mirai who cried on and on in his arm.

"Here, let me check something." Iruka plucked the bottle out of Kiba's arm and squeezed a drop onto his wrist. "Ah, this might not be warm enough. Did you heat it up?"

Kiba slapped his forehead and opened his mouth. A gargled sound escaped him as he started to swear before his closed his jaw suddenly with a click. Akamaru nudged the arm Mirai was held in and licked the infant's tear-stained face.

"Yes, try also bouncing her around a little in your arm. It'll be a good distraction for her as this heats up," Iruka suggested as he stuck the bottle in the microwave. Kiba followed his advice and Mirai's wailing lessened slightly. After a moment, Iruka took the bottle out and tested the temperature again. Nodding to himself, he handed it over to Kiba who stuck it in Mirai's open, crying mouth. The infant immediately latched on and, after a moment, started suckling vigourously.

Kiba all but sagged in relief.

"She kept spitting it up," he admitted as he very gently swayed his body back and forth while Mirai fed. "Normally Hinata or Shino would do this, they're so much better at this than I am but they're both at clan meetings and Kurenai-sensei really needed a break…"

"Say no more," Iruka smiled in understanding. "The first time's always the toughest, figuring things out. You're doing an excellent job. She'll probably need to burp after she finishes though, so you might want to grab a towel and cover your shoulder and back."

Kiba grimaced. "Yeah, well, I'm already covered in baby vomit. I already am the towel."

"Well, now you know how you can avoid that next time," Iruka laughed. "I better get going, but you got it from here?"

"Yeah, I should be ok. Thanks a bunch Iruka-sensei. Kurenai-sensei probably would've freaked out if she came home and I was still trying to get Mirai-chan to feed," Kiba shook his head over his state of disarray before Iruka had come. "I'll see you around."

A couple months later, Iruka was sitting at a bar sharing a few drinks with Gai, Anko, Shizune, Genma, and Kakashi. He wasn't particularly close with any of them- teaching and handling academy kids took up most of his time and were his regular D and C-rank missions, so to speak- but war and battle grew undeniably resilient bonds.

Iruka sat nursing his beer and mostly just listening to Gai and Anko carry on the spirit of the evening. In the middle of Gai trying to convince Kakashi to, once again, engage in an arm wrestling match, Anko suddenly blurted out rather drunkenly, "Hey, y'know who I haven't seen in ages? Kurenai! Man, getting knocked up sure turned her into a homebody."

Iruka sighed, knowing Anko didn't mean her sentiment badly despite her wording. Brash and often unforgiving in opinion when sober, alcohol did little to sweeten her.

"Raising a child by herself is no easy task," Shizune defended the absent woman. "And you know that wasn't by choice, to be doing this alone. Let her have her space."

"But it's been aaaaages," Anko slurred, slamming her drink down on the table. "Almost a year and I can count the number of times I've seen her on both hands! One, if I'm including actual talking involved."

"Her genin team and Asuma's team help her a lot," Kakashi's mild voice joined the conversation, likely relieved to have an excuse to divert Gai's attention away. "It has been a while since I've seen her though."

"If Kakashi admits that than that's really saying something," Genma chuckled.

"He is right! She is not without support of company," Gai agreed.

"Bah, hanging out with brats all the time can't be good for her," Anko retorted before taking a swig of her beer. Shizune's frown deepened.

"Well, was she invited to this?" Iruka pointed out. "Or have any of you visited her since Asuma's funeral or since Mirai-chan was born?" He was met with a round of shaking heads, with faces ranging from thoughtful to sheepish and embarrassed. Iruka shrugged a little self-consciously. "A lot of people's time and attention have been towards helping her with Mirai-chan. But I bet Kurenai-san wouldn't say no to help for herself."

A couple days after that night out, which ended on a rather thoughtful note (a little surprising considering how drunk the company became as the night wore one), Iruka was surprised to hear a knock on his apartment door and discover Kurenai balancing a curious Mirai on her hip on the other side.

"I suppose I have you to thank for helping Shikamaru and Kiba out," her quiet voice started, her crimson eyes never leaving Iruka. "And for the recent visit I got from Shizune and Genma and the flowers from Gai."

After a pause, a soft and grateful smile lit her face. "Would you like to meet Mirai?"

6.

Lee was, by far, the hardest working and most diligent student in his class. Iruka couldn't figure out at first if that was due to the strength of his character or due to the fact that Lee absolutely could not do any sort of ninjutsu or genjutsu to, quite literally, save his life.

It was, perhaps, a little bit of both.

'Play to your strengths', was what he actively taught his students. Lee took that to heart and practiced taijutsu until he bled, and then continued to keep going until he collapsed. He never gave up, not even when his classmates continually jeered at him, not when Iruka tried once, and only once, to tell him that a career as a ninja would not be possible if he couldn't utilize chakra, not when it seemed highly unlikely he would pass the graduation exam.

Lee had proving people wrong down to an art form. Iruka never had to reset his expectations so often, with how Lee kept surpassing them.

Iruka was never more grateful than he was to Gai when the jounin took Lee under his tutelage after graduation. There was such potential in Lee, but Iruka knew he couldn't help him reach it like Gai could.

It wasn't always an easy thing, admitting that sometimes, despite his best efforts, he just couldn't help someone.

Gai was good for Lee. Scratch that, Gai was perfect for Lee. Iruka always tried to stay on top of how his former students were doing and news of Lee's newfound ability to open the gates and growing prowess in taijutsu no longer came as a surprise to him. Lee had always been a genius at hard work.

Iruka asked him to help demonstrate some taijutsu techniques for the kids at the academy a couple times. Lee was literally unmatched in the field and got it in a way absolutely no one else did. The first time he asked, Lee was overwhelmed by the request and tearfully accepted, stating there was no nobler duty than ensuring the teachings of their ways were passed down to the younger generation.

Somehow word got around to his class that Lee was coming to demonstrate. Most of the kids were excited and a little apprehensive (Iruka could understand: Lee could be a little overwhelming at times) but a few of the more disdainful and doubtful kids muttered to each other why they needed the 'nutcase' to teach them.

Iruka couldn't help but laugh at that, and the ones who objected brightened at their teacher's mirth and apparent endorsement of their thoughts.

Iruka shook his head and told them, "It takes all kinds of people to make this world. More than that, it takes all kinds of people to save this world."

7.

It was a little thing, but Iruka always made a point to at least smile and nod at people as he passed on by. Sometimes he would wave, occasionally he would call out a 'hello', but the smile was the constant staple. It wasn't always because he was a perpetual ball of sunshine but he knew what a difference seeing a smile from a friendly face could do to a person, particularly if they were coming back from a tough mission or were having a bad day.

He could admit to wanting to just forgo the smile and paste on a tired scowl on his face to deter people but he always felt bad when he did that. Fake it 'till you make it, was the saying after all. And it did genuinely cheer him up on harder days, when he made the extra effort to acknowledge the strangers, friends, acquaintances, and students he passed. Happiness, after all, was contagious.

He made it a particular point to acknowledge the students who had been the quiet ones in his class, the ones who blended in the back and had few friends- though not for lack of wanting otherwise. That kind of shyness could be useful, honed into the fine art of subtlety and utilized for infiltration, but it made for an awfully lonely time growing up. Iruka knew that firsthand.

So it never was out of the ordinary for him to give a smile and wave at Shino whenever he saw him. Shino, who was always so withdrawn and protective (rightfully so) of his insects from his classmates, who had few friends as a result.

During the Academy days, the Third wrote down in a report after a visit to the class that human interaction and social bonding was what would make Shino an invaluable team player; but those were qualities and experiences that one had to want in order to be proficient at them.

Iruka just thought Shino was entitled to the same kind of warmth and appreciation and welcome that anyone else was, bugs or no bugs. He was, perhaps though, just one who needed it more than most.

Finding the balance between getting too personal and not being personal enough was tricky. Shino did not react well to social contact such as hugs like Naruto did. Shino did not like the rough play or friendly clasp on the shoulder that many of his other peers tended to dole out.

Iruka found though that simplicity was enough. Just a smile. A wave. An invitation for conversation if that was what was needed or wanted, but without the pressure of committing.

Iruka never missed Shino's presence whenever he was around, which was saying something considering that most everyone else always missed the dark, shrouded, enigmatic shinobi. But Shino's presence was just a subtle shift in the air, a slight hum in the atmosphere, a waiting figure.

It was never anything to fear. Iruka could understand the fear of the unknown, but Shino was always quite simple to understand.

So Iruka never had anything but well-wishes and genuine happiness at seeing and greeting his former student whenever they did run into each other. Iruka was always so glad to see Shino truly grow into himself and his capabilities in the supportive dynamic and family that was Team 8.

It was always so faint and so fleeting that if Iruka wasn't paying attention, he would miss it entirely, but Shino would always smile back at him. Just a barely-visible lifting of his cheekbones and an almost imperceptible nod of his head back in greeting.

Iruka always saw and he smiled all the bigger for it.

8.

The absence of something sometimes rang so much louder than its presence. Like the hum of cicadas in the air abruptly falling silent, the void left was always unsettling and acute.

And if such a strong feeling was present for the simple occurrence of the silence of cicadas, then the feeling Iruka had when he learned of the death of his parents was simply and overwhelmingly unbearable.

Coming home was the hardest. There was no home, really, to go to. He felt the absence of his mother in every room he stepped in, expecting to hear her voice. He felt the absence of his father in every action and motion he did, expecting to look up and see the proud smile on his face. Cooking for one and doing laundry for one hurt so much more than Iruka ever expected for such mundane tasks.

Absence was numbing. Silence was a blanket that smothered his emotions, made him feel dead inside.

It was why he went to the cenotaph every day after the academy. He would trace his parents' names on the marker and the weight of their presence would drag him to the ground. Grief swallowed silence and Iruka allowed himself to cry.

Everyone handled grief differently. No one approached Iruka during his time at the cenotaph for all the time he spent there. Space was often the only way others knew how to comfort.

Hiruzen Sarutobi did not believe that was what young Iruka needed though.

He approached Iruka one day, a month after his parents' names had been added. Iruka, familiar with the loneliness of his sorrow, lashed out.

"I'm proud! Proud that my parents died protecting me, protecting the village. I'm proud… proud to be their son. I'm…" his voice trailed off brokenly, trying valiantly to convince himself that this was alright, that this was noble and admirable. He tried to forget the ringing silence that was his company during mealtimes at the kitchen table and the cold closed door of his parents' bedroom.

"You," Hiruzen bent down and gathered Iruka in a firm hug, "have every right to mourn for what you've lost."

Iruka sobbed into Hiruzen's Hokage cloak, feeling the warmth the other man gave but also feeling the emptiness in his heart all the more keenly for it.

"Just remember what they believed in," Hiruzen patted Iruka comfortingly as he cried. "They believed in you. They believed in Konoha."

Wiping his tears and sniffling all the while, Iruka withdrew back to look at Hiruzen in the eye.

"They had the spirit of fire," Hiruzen murmured. "When they went out to battle, they were protecting you and everyone else because all of us who have this spirit is part of the same family."

Iruka rocked back on his feet as he turned the words over in his mind. His eyes turned almost automatically to trace his parents' name on the cenotaph once more.

"You are not alone," Hiruzen stood up. He clasped Iruka gently, comfortingly on his shoulder. "You have a family waiting for you here because the same spirit burns within you."

9.

"You want me to what?" Iruka was astonished.

"Be my best man!" Naruto exclaimed, an outrageously excited smile stretching across his face.

"I… would be honoured, Naruto," Iruka still had a hard time processing the request. "But what about Sasuke? Or Shikamaru?"

"Iruka-sensei," Naruto laughed, and Iruka felt humbled and warmed that Naruto, literal saviour of the the world, still loved and valued him the same as all those years ago when they first ate ramen together, "why wouldn't it be you? You saw me as human before anyone else did and you never gave up on me. You've been with me through some of the most important moments of my life. I can think of no one else I would want more by my side on an occasion like this.

"You know that some of my best memories are just eating ramen with you when I came back from a mission, or after I cleaned up a prank?" Naruto chuckled. Iruka laughed with him- those were some of his favourite times too. A mischievous twinkle, one Iruka was only too familiar with, lit up Naruto's eyes. "Say, Iruka-sensei, want to grab some ramen with me now? I'll even pay!" He thrust up a triumphant fist pump clutching Gama-chan.

"How could I say no if you're treating?" Iruka teased. "I'm going to clean Teuchi out in payback for all the times you ate me out of my wallet."

"Iruka-sensei!" Naruto gasped in horror. "How could you threaten Gama-chan like that?" After a pause, he added, "Or my stomach?!"

Iruka laughed in gusto as he led the way to Ichiraku's. "I actually highly doubt anyone has the capacity to eat more ramen than you, Naruto." Naruto only gave a cheeky grin and a decisive nod of his head in reply.

"So," Iruka settled in the seat next to Naruto. Teuchi had seen them coming and was already preparing their usual order of miso ramen, judging from the smells coming from the boiling pots behind the counter. "How've you been, Naruto? It's been too long since you and I have had the chance to just sit and talk like that."

"I know!" Naruto exclaimed. They traded stories in earnest, catching each other up on the past two years that they were apart.

"I saw that kiss you gave Hinata, coming back from the Toneri mission," Iruka teased. He let out a hearty laugh when a light blush and shy but exuberant smile stretched across Naruto's face. "How on earth did you guys get up there? A powered jutsu? Though speaking of," he leaned back, pushing away his empty ramen bowl and leaning comfortable up against the counter, "what's the best justu you think you think you've learned?"

"Ever?" Naruto was still working on his fourth bowl but put his chopsticks down to consider the question. After a moment, he tilted his head to look Iruka in the eyes. "It would probably have to be my 'talk no jutsu', as Sakura-chan likes to call it. I learned that one from you!"

"What!" Iruka laughed incredulously. "That's not really a jutsu!"

"And yet," Naruto mused, tapping his chopsticks thoughtfully against his chin, "it's definitely the most effective one. You used it all the time on me so I know how well it works!"

"Did it though?" Iruka shook his head smiling. "You still always painted the Hokage monument and set up so many booby traps around the classroom and village even after the numerous times I spoke to you."

"I got better!" Naruto argued. "It just took me a while to get it. But without you, I'd probably just be a scrawny kid putting whoopee cushions under your seat and buckets of water on top of doors."

"Now that's not true," Iruka scolded him. "You had such a dream, and the most stubborn will I've ever seen. You were always going to become Hokage, no matter what anyone said or did to you!"

"You always believed that?" Naruto asked him, his voice dropping. He contemplated the swirling remains of his ramen bowl, thinking over Iruka's words.

"Always," Iruka affirmed firmly.

A slow chuckle came out of Naruto and after a moment, he turned to face Iruka fully, a wide and adoring smile on his face.

"That," Naruto laughed, "is the talk-no-jutsu."

10.

"Thanks again for babysitting, Iruka-sensei," Hinata greeted her old teacher at the door, a gentle smile on her face. Behind her, Himawari and Boruto bounced excitedly, eager to spend the day with one of their favourite uncles.

"Of course," Iruka chuckled. "I'm glad they like being babysat for me so much!"

"'ruka-oji, 'ruka-oji!" Himawari chanted behind her mother. "Play, play!"

"I think that's my cue to leave," Hinata laughed. She turned and planted a kiss each head. "Be good for Iruka-sensei. I better not hear of any more of our neighbours' cats being traumatized and I better not find any more of our neighbours' cats adopted into our house." She smiled at their pouting and turned to Iruka. "You know where to find me if there's trouble."

Iruka nodded before flashing a cheeky smile at the children. "But I don't think I'll need to call on you since I know Hima-chan and Boruto-kun will be very good for me!"

"Yeah, yeah!" Himawari giggled delightedly. Boruto groaned but even he couldn't hide his excited smile. Hinata waved good bye to the three of them and was out the door to meet up with Naruto for a lunch date.

"So!" Iruka clapped his hands at them. "What shall we do first? I know for a fact that the park is selling fudgsicles today."

"Yeah, let's go!" Boruto cheered. He grabbed one of Iruka's hand and promptly started dragging the older man out of the house. Himawari giggled and caught Iruka's free hand and skipped alongside.

"'ruka-oji, tell us a story!" Himawari pleaded when they both got their desired fudgesicles. Lounging in the grass under the warm summer sun, Iruka tilted his head up in thought as he considered her request.

"Well, what story would you guys like to hear?"

"Tell us about otousan when he was younger!" Boruto piped up, wiping away some melted chocolate on his chin with a sleeve. Iruka shook his head at the action and whipped out a napkin for him to use instead. "He always said you were the only adult he listened to when he was my age! What did he get up to? What did you do?" Himawari nodded excitedly beside her brother in agreement.

Iruka let out a long chuckle as he thought back to so many years ago.

"Well, I suppose you can say it sort of all started when I caught him painting the Hokage Monument…"