Warnings: stark imagery, angst, bodily functions, main character death

we are bound together
(bound, forever)

Iruka.

It would only be for a minute, he told himself. He didn't think he could stand it any longer than that. No, he knew he couldn't. They all did.

Shuffling up to the body laid out before him took every ounce of courage and strength, every bit of everything Iruka had to offer. He stood over his lover's still form, all pale skin and silvery hair. The mask was gone and...and it just didn't seem right. But then, everyone gathered had seen him without his mask often enough.

There was still something beautiful about that face and...

With a gasp, the strangled moan clawing at his throat escaped. It carried Iruka's sorrow and love away on the frigid air. Time stopped, innumerable minutes aborted in its wake.

Then, just as suddenly, it all started up again, with a new fervor, a new will to live. Mocking Iruka and the man lying before him.

Kashi...

His Kashi.

They'd only just discovered love. Heavy, sweet tendrils of emotion, pulling them together...present, even still. He was drawn to his lover as always...

...as always.

Their life together had been all too brief.

Dreams and hopes melted into impossible futures, disintegrated as imagined ash and soot on his tongue and he memorized the face. Again.

It wouldn't be long before the retching began anew, and he didn't want to be here for that. The red faced sobs, torn from a raw throat. The pain...the PAIN...it tainted everything. He should go. Preserve the peace of the place, even if it was short lived.

Another moan escaped his lips, as many strong hands pulled him back. Arms folded around, absorbing his trembling and tears. Despair.

Obito turned a single Sharingan eye toward Iruka and half-smiled. "It's time, sensei." Standing beside him, Mother and Rin nodded apologetically. Iruka turned back to the small Uchiha, who shrugged and murmured, "You'll still be able to see him at the monument."

"no." A fragile whisper from among the tangling arms and bodies cocooning him. "no."

They tugged, dragging him back, away from Kakashi-from safety and home and family and everything else he represented. He tried to fight them off, throwing punches, kicking out, desperate to stare down at that face one last time, just once. "No! NO! NO!"

But they didn't let go.

It only stopped when they reached the memorial stone. The cold, emotionless surface accepting Iruka's rage without complaint, translucent hands passing through solid rock. The others watched his tirade, in awe of the man's spirit.

"It's no wonder Kashi-kun chose you, Iruka-sensei." The others murmured in agreement with the Fourth.

Between furious blows, Iruka yelled, "Doesn't matter, now...does it...!" And it didn't, not really. Not anymore. He stumbled; strong arms held him again.

Kashi?

"Iruka-sensei, it's time to let him go, don't you think?"

"No! No, I don't. I..."

The Sandaime Hokage watched his successor thoughtfully, as the blond stroked Iruka's unbound hair. Iruka, who was numbly stooped in the grass, too still for comfort, head leaning against the Yondaime's chest. "It is, Iruka. It is."

Kakashi.

"Kaka-sensei?"

A skinny blond boy plunged into the room. He wrinkled his nose at the smell, suppressing a gag as he reached the man lying prone on a stained futon. "Kakashi-sensei..."

A whispered "shit" rose and died on his lips as he pulled open the curtain, ripped at the blinds, and filled the room with sunlight. "Sasuke!"

The darker youth rushed into the room as their sensei was starting to sit up in bed. A quick hand sign to block the smell, and he started to drag the silver haired jounin away from the futon. Away from days worth of vomit and waste. Empty sake bottles.

There was a struggle: the man screamed and tore at the boys, the boys screamed and tore at the their teacher. They were no match for his strength.

In the end, nothing had changed.

Nothing changed. Everyone he'd ever loved was, once again, dead. First, his parents. Then, Obito, Rin, Sensei, most of the jounin he'd ever known. And, now...

"Ibiki got his traitor. Even delivered the bastard in one piece, more or less. So leave me the fuck alone."

A mutually whispered "sensei" drew the Sharingan's gaze, spinning at full force, draining his chakra further. He didn't care. Why the hell should he care? He did his duty to Konoha: he captured the traitor, leaving Iruka to wait for the medic-nin who would never arrive. He did his duty, and he would continue to do so when he was put back into service.

What more did they want?

Fuck them. He just didn't care. Not when his heart was gone. Burnt to ash and buried. Scribed onto the monument. Gone.

The boys, forgotten, backed out of the room in silence, their own grief-choked minds reeling.

Iruka. Kakashi.

The memorial stone was his anchor.

The one-way conversations, somehow comforting.

As if they could hear him. As if he could hear him.

And when he said I love you, he still meant it.

[ .end ]