Chapter 7 – There it Will Be, Waiting for You

In the very deepest part of the night, in the hours when midnight had passed, Iruka lay curled on a cot in the academy assembly hall. Around him, small sounds came from the other orphans being housed here, rustling blankets and the occasional keening cries that followed a nightmare's progress. Yet they all slept – uneasily, perhaps, but dead weary from the long, punishing day of work and training.

All except for Iruka, who stared unblinking at the rafters. Behind his eyes he saw dead children until the back of his throat was coated with hot, sticky bile. In an endless cycle, the images rose and choked him with guilt and fury. During the day, it made him sour and uncooperative. His defiance hadn't impressed his superiors. They had already labeled him: damaged, recalcitrant, troublemaker.

He didn't care. He didn't care about anything.

Except…

Iruka rolled over onto his side, the fabric harsh against his cheek. He thought about the work detail he'd been on that day, the rumors he'd heard. As he labored dragging stone and rubbish and broken boards, whispers had reached his ears that the Kyuubi – the killer of their parents, siblings, children, and friends – might be sealed inside a human being as it had been before. That the beast had lived when so many others had not. The very idea was unbearable.

His eyes shot open. He was breathing hard, and his hands had closed into fists. But even as his heart pounded with emotion, Iruka realized that he could do something. If he really wanted revenge, then all he had to do was find whatever body they had found to house that monster and make it stop breathing.

Iruka wasn't a genius, not in the traditional sense, but he was cunning in ways that his superiors hadn't yet realized. It wasn't hard for him to figure out that there was only one person who was certain to know where the vessel of the sealed fox was being kept, and once he knew that, it was only a matter of time.

He used the fact that the Sandaime felt sorry for the children. Their presence was ignored when they came to the Tower to beg. The old man just patted their heads when they gathered around him or directed his shinobi to give them extra food. Iruka's lingering wasn't suspected. In a matter of days, he was able to follow the Third to an abandoned building on the outskirts of town. Why there, he didn't know. Perhaps it was thought to be safer, in that forsaken part of the city where no one went anymore. The old man went in and visited for a short time.

That was how Iruka found out about the baby.

At first it stunned him. He had expected something else. A chained, man-shaped creature, foaming and red-eyed with madness. He'd expected the Kyuubi, wrapped up in skin. Instead there was a pink squirming thing, tangled in a blanket. It was fretful, and made small distressed sounds when the Sandaime leaned over the basket. When it waved its tiny arms and the old man's eyes watered, Iruka had looked away.

An infant. Iruka sat back on his haunches and thought about what that meant. He felt a moment of doubt, but the kunai that he had been holding on the night he lost his parents bit into the flesh of his palm. He decided it didn't matter what face the Kyuubi was wearing. It was still a monster.

He entered the building at twilight. There was a nurse who stayed in the house, but she was inattentive. Sometimes she just left the thing upstairs and let it cry. No one noticed when Iruka slipped open the window and into the featureless room where a single basket sat in a square of moonlight. Iruka approached and called on the killing chakra that he had so recently learned to wield. Called on the misery of months and on the faces of the dead. He let those lost lives fill him up with righteous anger. Let it pound in his heartbeat and in the hand which he raised, steady around his weapon.

"Die," he whispered, and made the motion that would end it all.

Then the baby opened its eyes, and looked up at the boy who was there to assassinate it.

It had golden hair splayed out in a sparse halo. It had blue eyes and six lines, three on each side, that ran parallel down its cheeks – the only visible marks of the creature hidden inside. The baby looked up at him and blinked, its mouth opening in an almost comical way, and then it made a noise like a puzzled cry.

Iruka froze.

The baby blew a bubble with its mouth and spoke again – quiet, fussy sounds that any baby would make. He looked up at Iruka and again made that inquisitive noise.

Iruka's raised arm trembled. There was sweat on his forehead. All he had to do was put this knife though the soft, yielding belly, he told himself. That was all, and then everyone – the whole village of Konoha – would have the revenge it needed so badly. Blue, blues eyes. The baby looked up at him, a monster child, and it didn't look any different than any of the children Iruka had so recently lost. It was alone and unprotected, just like they all had been when someone came and murdered them. The baby wiggled its tiny fingers.

Iruka felt his hand fall limply to his side. His angry breaths quickly turned to sobs and he broke down and cried, falling on his knees as he wept. The kunai clanged, imbedding in the wooden planks of the floor. Outside the window, the stars were shinning in the sky like dancing balls of fire. Peering into the basket where the demon lay, Iruka clenched his teeth. It was so different from its former form. Iruka choked on the memory of the Kyuubi's breath. The memory was so huge in his mind. How could such a little thing cause so much pain?

"Do you even remember?" Iruka asked, fresh tears clinging to his nose as they rolled down his face. They stung his eyes, and he leaned against the makeshift cradle, exhausted. "You don't remember, do you?"

The baby yawned, its small, intense eyes squeezing shut for just a moment, and then it looked back up at Iruka, fixating on the boy it had so recently orphaned. Its lip trembled and it held out its hands with a whimpering, insistent cry. There was no mistaking that plea. Iruka sat back, his breath catching. He couldn't. But the baby looked as though it might begin to wail if ignored much longer. Already the pitiful whining was becoming loud enough to alert its caretaker.

Feeling he had no other choice, Iruka reached into the cradle and lifted out the tiny body, holding it against his chest and whispering, "Don't cry, don't cry."

Comforted by the voice, the baby quieted. It nuzzled its tiny face into Iruka's shoulder, making soft, sleepy noises. Iruka's hands shook as he held the infant, who clung to him as if he were the only source of comfort in a dark and frightening world. Looking into that helpless face, Iruka forgot that he was looking at the demon fox. All he could see was a boy, as vulnerable and alone as he was himself. Iruka held him and was flooded with fresh perspective.

"What will they do with you?" he wondered aloud. Would they let him grow up in the village like anyone else? Would he train at the academy? Or would the elders decide to kill him, as Iruka had been intent on doing? The Kyuubi had caused so much suffering. Moments ago Iruka would have gladly been the one to get rid of it once and for all. But this child, this was no demon.

Iruka kept rocking, even when he heard the pounding of sandals on the stairs in the hall.

"Naruto?"

Naruto was rigid in his chair. What did you say when the only parent you'd ever known admitted that, at one time, he had not only wanted to kill you but that he had actually tried to do it?

Iruka's voice was strained, and he was pale with regret. "Naruto, during the worst part of my life, alone and grieving, I thought killing a demon would stop me from being in so much pain. But even then, I wasn't able to harm you. I looked right into your face, and all I could see was Uzumaki Naruto. After that, hurting you wasn't even an option." He stopped talking, and the weight of his eyes was like heavy, dark stones. "I'm sorry, Naruto."

"Is that why you took care of me? Because of that night?" Naruto asked. The connection was clear. Iruka had felt guilty.

"It's not so simple as that. In part, the answer is yes. When you were older, and I met you again in the marketplace, tumbled over and covered with dirt –" And tear trails, all down the dust of his face, Naruto remembered. "– remembering that night did make me want to protect you."

Naruto didn't know what to say. He could still barely process what he'd been told. "So that's it then," he said, feeling numb. "That's why."

Very gently, Iruka reached over and squeezed his hand. "Not just. You were the most invasive brat I've ever met. I was sold on you after the first goodnight hug. You were practically falling out of the nightshirt I loaned you, and you wouldn't let go of my arm."

Naruto could recall the rundown apartment where Iruka lived when they first met. Vaguely, he could bring up images of a dingy, second-hand table, of cobwebs and dust like a mist over those earliest recollections. It hadn't been a nice place, but Naruto had been so unused to warmth – of the physical or human variety – that he had been totally unmoved by such petty, aesthetic concerns. And, yes, he had held on for dear life. Only when Iruka – so much younger then, still a teenager himself – had consented to pull their futons right beside each other had Naruto finally relented. He didn't remember the hug Iruka mentioned, but he did recall the sound of his Sensei's steady breathing, all night long. It was still a sound that comforted him, never failing lull him into a deep slumber.

He looked up into Iruka's face and was able to see the anguish there. The man had withdrawn his hand, and was holding his fingers twined anxiously together. Naruto knew that look. It was the fear of rejection by someone you loved. Iruka had told the truth, and now he was waiting.

Not so long ago, on a night like this, Naruto had asked the question: what was it that turned an orphan into a teacher? What had made him turn his home into a sanctuary and take in a monster that was a boy? Not a simple answer, Iruka had said, and he was right. Dead children. Deeds done in the dark. The epilogue of a war. And a baby. Naruto realized this with a sudden flash of insight; he had changed Iruka, too.

"Naruto, I –"

Iruka tried to speak, but before he could finish stammering, Naruto was up out of his chair and had pulled his old teacher into a tight hug. At the pressure of this embrace, Iruka relaxed. He wrapped his arms around Naruto and squeezed him in return.

When they drew apart, Iruka was wearing a relieved, though tired, smile. The deep waters of his eyes seemed tranquil for the moment, though Naruto was reminded that the story he had heard tonight was only the beginning of all that had made his sensei the way he was, just one small piece.

But there would be time for other stories later.

"I'm putting you to bed," he declared, and Sensei laughed and allowed himself to be pulled up bodily. Naruto imagined him at ten-years-old, alone in a world that often proved brutal and unfair. But neither of them was alone anymore. Together, they had made some kind of family, and no matter how it had started – with war or darkness or murder or pain – it had ended with adoption, affection, and a place to call home. That was most important thing. It was all Naruto needed to know.

Right?

Author's Note: There you are, reviewer. I hope you enjoyed "All Fall Down". Though expanded from its original form, the kernel of this story was actually the first thing I wrote for the Naruto fandom, and it was interesting to go back and take another look. As always, I appreciate your feedback and thank you for your readership.