Naruto: Iruka Sensei

[DumDumDum]

***

Life is full of suffering, pain, and loss, but it is within our power to change it the way we want for ourselves and our loved ones.

Just never give up! Don't forget your dreams! And remember what it means to be human—always stay that way!

***

A long, long time ago, I heard that you can make a wish on a falling star, just like on your birthday or New Year's. And that wish will definitely come true! Because not many people make wishes on stars.

Wishes are like letters in envelopes. The kind gods and spirits sort through them in massive piles on New Year's, so some wishes get lost and never granted. Or they get granted, but way too late, when nobody cares anymore, dattebayo.

The night before the graduation exam, I spotted a falling star. And I wished on it: "I want to pass the exam." I actually had two wishes for the star, but the exam was more important. I figured that once I became a big-shot ninja, I'd have plenty more stars ahead of me!

And then, another one fell! I was so happy that I blurted my wish out loud:

"I want a family!"

And the next day, I failed the exam...

It was so unfair, because those gods went and lost my wish anyway.

"They've gotta be total idiots, dattebayo, if they lose the second wish too!"

"What are you talking about, Naruto-kun?"

At first, I didn't tell Mizuki-sensei about the stars and the wish because I didn't know him very well. He was nice, sure, but he never treated me to ramen like Iruka-sensei or the Old Man Hokage did.

Mizuki-sensei told me a lot of things. I thought he was a decent guy. And when he told me about the secret, I laughed until I cried and told him about the star and my first wish. I kept quiet about the second one, secretly hoping it would still come true.

That night was a full moon. The whole time, it felt like I was being watched, but I managed to get the scroll! The hardest part was figuring out the unfamiliar kanji—everything else was a piece of cake! I am the future Hokage, after all! The Old Man Kage wiped out so hilariously!

But then it turned out Mizuki-sensei was a traitor. At first, I thought it was just part of the test. But Iruka-sensei and Mizuki-sensei were fighting for real!

I beat the traitor and saved Iruka-sensei! He gave me his very own headband, but then Iruka-sensei collapsed. He even lost consciousness.

Iruka-sensei didn't wake up for a long time. Without him around, they even set the graduation date and stamped the registration number on my hitai-ate.

They tried to keep me out of the hospital, so I figured out another way to visit my teacher! There was a tree right across from his room window. They kept chasing me off from there too, but I learned how to transform into a pile of leaves and could sit like that for hours. I'm the coolest ninja ever!

When Iruka-sensei stirred and sat up, I ran to tell the medics, but by the time they finally agreed to look, sensei was unconscious again. So everyone thought I was lying.

The second time sensei woke up, I didn't run for the medics right away. I figured if sensei took a turn for the worse, I'd still have time to call them. Good thing the medical-nin came in on his own, and sensei was looking better.

I had to lie and say that Gramps asked me to deliver an important message. Only then did they let me visit Iruka-sensei. He wasn't thrilled to see me at first, but he smiled anyway.

Up close, Iruka-sensei looked incredibly exhausted. I'd never seen him like that before. He was completely pale, like a ghost—it was scary! And he had these massive bags under his eyes, dattebayo!

We were talking and talking, and then sensei just... weirdly blanked out. He froze with his eyes and mouth wide open. It was so terrifying! I was scared he had actually died. I was too afraid to even move. It felt like if I budged, sensei would topple over and crash onto the floor with that creepy expression on his face.

But then he just shook his head like nothing happened and smiled! Not like his usual smile, but even better! And then he asked me to tell him about the fight! And after that, he said the scroll didn't matter! A scroll full of awesome jutsu that belonged to the Hokage?! Iruka-sensei is so weird!

Iruka-sensei acted even weirder after getting out of the hospital when he said he lost his memory. He bought me a whole bunch of sweets and treated me to this strange but super tasty red ramen. How do you even lose your memory anyway? It's not like it's a kunai or a pack of instant ramen, dattebayo!

The weirdest thing was that this strange Iruka-sensei didn't yell at me once—not when I grabbed a ton of candy and he had to pay for it, and not even when I went to nose around his house without permission!

I wanted to see how sensei lives before he kicks me out, or before I wake up. There's no way this is real life!

When I wake up, I really, really don't want to forget this dream!

 

[DumDumDum]

I woke up to violent shaking. Someone was slapping my cheeks, desperately trying to rouse me. I groaned something incomprehensible just to make them stop, nearly going deaf when a child's voice shrieked right in my ear.

"Iruka-sensei! You're alive!"

My sluggish brain only managed to process the tail end of that sentence.

"Alive, yeah, I'm alive," I wheezed. "Get off me, you're choking me!"

Colorful spots and black dots danced across my vision, which kept rolling back every few seconds like I was coming out of heavy anesthesia. My head was ringing so loudly I couldn't focus. Keeping my eyes shut, I tasted copper on my busted lips. I didn't dare touch my face; underneath my trembling fingers, I felt something rough, like tree bark. Rub dirt into an already battered face? No thanks, I'll pass!

I swallowed hard, barely suppressing a cough in my bone-dry throat. Taking a breath through my nose, I caught the distinct scent of damp earth and a deep forest. It was soothing, like a massive dose of sleeping pills, and I already wanted to pass out anyway. The only thing stopping me from sliding down the rough bark behind me and sleeping was the fact that my entire body ached like I'd just been through a meat grinder.

For some reason, right then, it felt vital to figure out my surroundings without opening my eyes. Beneath me was cold grass and damp earth, like it had just rained.

And I smelled instant ramen.

That last detail was so jarringly out of place that my eyes snapped open. A blur of orange and blue immediately tried to suffocate me again in a bear hug. I couldn't even lean back to shove the overly enthusiastic kid away.

Who is this? Do I know him? Does he know me?

I only had the strength to croak out, "Who are you?" But before I could hear the answer, darkness swallowed me again.

I woke up with a violent jerk, as if waking from a nightmare, and immediately curled in on myself with a strangled gasp. Agony flared through my torso. I froze, terrified to breathe or move, just gulping down air and feeling like I was suffocating.

Once the pain subsided to a dull roar, I tried to look around, but the blurry film of sleep and dried tears in my eyes made it impossible. Blinking away the crust, I could only make out colorful blobs.

This definitely wasn't my room. It was far too bright and spacious, a stark contrast to my shoebox apartment where the sun only ever peeked in by bouncing off the neighbor's windows.

When my vision finally cleared, a tidal wave of questions crashed into my throbbing skull, and I promptly passed out from the sheer stress of it.

When I came to again, I looked around with bewildered caution. The hallucination hadn't vanished; it hadn't morphed back into my messy room. I had absolutely no idea where I was or how I got here. It looked like a hospital, but at the same time, it didn't.

Turning my head, I had to squeeze my eyes shut against the glare. Once I adjusted, I looked out the window. The midday sun was blinding, but through the rustling leaves of a nearby tree, I saw a wide swath of crystal-clear blue sky. There were no airplane contrails, no looming rectangular skyscrapers blocking the horizon.

The sounds were even more confusing. Aside from the sharp chirping of swallows darting past the window, it was completely quiet. No cars. No sirens. No hum of city life. I also noticed a complete lack of plastic in the room. Even the window frames were wooden—weird ones, too. Thin frames with sliding glass panes, like the windows on an old commuter bus.

Wiping my watering eyes on the pillow to avoid moving my sore limbs, I hissed through my teeth and rolled onto my side, putting my back to the window. The stiff mattress springs groaned, and the rubberized sheet underneath squeaked horribly. Now I could take in the rest of the ward.

There were five other empty beds on casters. Maybe more; my view was blocked by a white canvas privacy screen on a metal frame. The screen looked relatively new, though I could make out faint, meticulously scrubbed bloodstains on the fabric. Rolling onto my back, I lifted my head slightly. Next to each bed was a low nightstand and an IV pole.

Only now did I bother to actually smell the air. It didn't smell like bleach and antiseptic. It smelled like herbs—wormwood, maybe? And the smell was strongest right on me. Dropping my head back onto the thin pillow, I tried to piece together yesterday's events to figure out why I was wrapped up like a mummy.

"It was Sunday..." I whispered, barely moving my lips. The silence was so heavy I was afraid to break it.

I hadn't slept that day. I'd pulled an all-nighter to prep for two major university finals by Monday. I watched the sunrise through my monitor while finishing a project. Because I was a procrastinator of the highest order, I was cramming weeks of work into two nights. As my mom used to say: "If hewants something, he'll move mountains to get it done. If he's lazy, he'll drag it out until the world's end."

I remembered my phone ringing. It was an incredibly obnoxious, cheery ringtone that went off the exact second I rested my tired eyes.

"Yeaaaah," I had drawled, moving with the speed of a tranquilized sloth. "Whaaaat?"

It took me half a minute to realize I hadn't actually swiped to answer. I sighed heavily and mashed the button.

"Yeah?" I yawned into the receiver.

During the brief pause on the other end, I chanted a silent prayer: Please don't be Mashka. Anyone but the class rep. I don't need a lecture right now, I just want to sleep!

Static crackled, followed by a theatrical groan. "Aidan! The Dean is a monster! Mashka just called me! What are we gonna do? We are so screwed!"

A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck. I braced for the worst.

From my sleep-deprived friend Yurika's frantic rambling, I gathered that the exam schedule had been swapped. Art History was suddenly up next, and neither of us was ready. After a brief pause to process, I decided the best way out of this clusterfuck was a sob story about our failing health. Luckily, we both had legitimate medical excuses. I had a wonky heart valve, and Yurika had kidney issues. It was the only reason the military draft hadn't swallowed us up yet.

But my friend didn't appreciate my genius. "I did all the planning, and you're complaining?! Bye—"

I yelled over him. "They'll believe it! How are they gonna know we aren't actually dying right now? Just go to sleep. The next exam isn't for three days. We sleep for twenty-four hours, then we deal with it. I'll... fine, I'll come over and help you build your stupid bus stop diorama! Later."

Just as my eyes started to close, I jumped like I'd been shocked. A weird, crackling sound—like a sparking electrical outlet—echoed in the room. Any lingering sleepiness vanished, considering how much paper and flammable junk was piled around my desk. I sniffed the air, leaning toward the computer. The sound repeated, this time coming from the speakers, at a slightly different pitch. Cursing, I turned off the dying tech.

Glaring at the malfunctioning machine, I was about to just unplug the whole rig, but curiosity got the better of me.

On the screen, instead of a normal profile picture, an anime character stared back at me. Spiky gray hair, a dark blue mask covering the lower half of his face, and a headband pulled over one eye.

I skimmed the new messages and snorted.

It was an internet buddy I'd foolishly promised to beta-read for a couple of months ago. This guy, going by the handle "K@k@shi", was exhausting. He wrote like a middle-school dropout, but for some reason, I didn't want to hurt his feelings, so I spent my free time rewriting his "masterpieces" into somewhat readable prose. Why did I do it? Hell if I know.

Sighing heavily, I scrolled through his latest batch of nonsense, facepalmed with one hand, and typed a reply with the other.

My own handle, 異世界の炎 (Otherworldly Fire), was just something edgy I found online. I barely knew anything about Japanese culture and wasn't exactly rushing to learn.

異世界の炎: You want the truth?

A second later:
K@k@shi: Huh
K@k@shi: Lol))) Hit me.

Weighing the pros and cons, I decided I didn't want to deal with him anymore.

異世界の炎: Are you SURE you want the TRUTH?

K@k@shi: Lol))) YES!

異世界の炎: First graders write better essays. I can't 'beta' this. It needs a complete rewrite! From scratch! You had a GREAT premise, but you butchered it with spectacular cynicism! Your MC isn't a proper SI. He wouldn't talk like that. And if he WAS a self-insert, he'd give himself away instantly! He's a massive Gary Stu with more cheat skills than he could use in ten lifetimes! It's completely unbelievable where he gets his powers! They just fall out of the sky right into his hands/mouth/lap! Pick one.

Naturally, K@k@shi didn't appreciate my brutal honesty and started spamming every swear word in his vocabulary.

Right then, my little brother sneaked up behind me and screamed in my ear: "The fridge is empty!"

He nearly got a smack upside the head for that.

"So what?!" I kept my eyes glued to the monitor. "Are your arms broken? Cut some bread and sausage yourself. I'm busy..."

"Aidan, I'm telling Mom!" Misha interrupted, waving a moldy pot that used to hold pilaf. "I heard everything you told Yurika!"

I froze in horror, then quickly scrambled for an excuse. "Go to the store, I don't have ingredients to cook with," I said, leaning back in my chair, feigning relaxation.

Misha grumbled and walked off. Meanwhile, my internet buddy was still throwing a tantrum.

K@k@shi: I'm never letting you read my fics again! Don't even ask, got it!!!

"Oh, I'm terrified," I chuckled, standing up from the desk. "Who cares. If I want to read a fanfic, I'll write one myself. I've got a perfect example of what not to do right in front of me."

But the moment I took a step, my foot caught on a plastic drafting tube. With a loud crunch, my head slammed into something hard.

So that's what happened... I thought, gently touching the back of my throbbing head, snapping back to the present. I think I clipped the corner of the desk. I'm definitely gonna have to buy a new drafting tube. Or was that my skull that crunched?

Running my fingers over the bandages on my head, I froze. I was looking at my hands. Specifically, the dark skin peeking out from under the gauze on my forearms. I tried to lift the bandage to see why they'd slathered me in so much iodine, but stopped, staring at the tan, long fingers marred by pale scars. Some of them looked nasty enough that I shouldn't have forgotten getting them.

I somehow managed to get a tan, I noted numbly, seeing my other arm was just as dark.

Considering I had nowhere to get a tan in the middle of February, and that my family routinely called me "the pale vampire," a tan was impossible. I licked my thumb and rubbed the skin. The color didn't come off.

My thoughts began to spiral into absolute stupidity: If this is iodine, why is the bandage white? If it's not rubbing off, how much did they pour on me? Will my skin peel off?! If you use too much iodine, it causes chemical burns!

Panicking, I looked around for a mirror and spotted some folded clothes on the nightstand. I couldn't reach them. Something under my back bandages was stopping me, like they'd strapped a wooden plank to my spine. I tried to look at my reflection in the window glass, but my back absolutely refused to bend. And then I heard a low, pained howl nearby. I froze, but the sound didn't repeat.

Since my skin wasn't peeling off in chunks, I decided to inspect myself closer. Who knew what else had changed?

Peeking under the blanket, I stared at my chest and stomach, tightly wrapped in elastic bandages. I poked my abs—definitely mine now, but heavily muscled. Not bodybuilder bulky, but shredded like an Olympic track athlete. Pulling the thin blanket back up, I stared blankly at the ceiling, repeating to myself:

This is some kind of sick joke. It's a dream. It's not real... I didn't sleepwalk into a tanning salon and a gym, did I? And the old scars... when did I get those? Why don't I remember?

While trying to convince myself I was hallucinating, I felt myself slipping. It felt like I'd been pumped full of tranquilizers and tossed into quicksand. A heavy, irresistible drag into sleep.

I closed my eyes, but a second later, they snapped open on their own. Without my input.

Cold sweat broke out over my body. When my arms started moving on their own, I thought I was going to pass out for real.

A dark-haired young man with slanted eyes walked into the ward, gave a strange greeting, and picked up a clipboard hanging at the foot of my bed. Why his greeting rubbed me the wrong way, I couldn't quite grasp.

The doctor looked about twenty-five. He was Asian, but had a somewhat European facial structure. He read the chart intently, occasionally jotting something down. On the back of his clipboard, I saw a large black symbol enclosed in a circle. The exact same symbol was embroidered in red on the right breast of his beige medical coat.

If I had any lingering doubts about not being home, they vanished completely.

But how did I end up in Japan?

"Are you awake?" the medic asked. Seeing 'my' head nod, he smiled. "Good."

Turning a crank on the side of the bed, the doctor raised the top half so I was propped up in a semi-sitting position. After flipping through some papers, he met 'my' eyes.

"You are Umino Iruka-san, correct?"

I wanted to scream, What?!

But instead, I heard my own mouth say, "Yes."

It was like watching a movie with a perfect dub: I heard a completely foreign language, yet I understood it flawlessly as if it were my native tongue.

Paralyzed, I listened to 'my' body report its symptoms to the doctor. "It hurts here. Not so much here." It was like playing a first-person video game during a cutscene. I couldn't answer, couldn't twitch, couldn't even change the camera angle. And the voice coming out of my throat was definitely not mine. How did I not notice that earlier?

Iruka, Iruka, Iruka, I repeated in a panic, the name nagging at my memory. Wait... 'Iruka' means dolphin. Why a dolphin? And 'Umino' means 'of the sea'... Oh! I know him! Iruka-sensei! From... Oh, shit! From Naruto!

That exact same anime my buddy wrote fanfic for. The story about the blond kid whose parents, in their infinite wisdom, decided to seal a demon inside him, promptly died, and left him an orphan without even setting up a godfather or guardian. You'd think elite magical mercenaries would have a contingency plan! Naturally, the entire village hated the kid for it. Though I never really understood why, since only a few people supposedly knew he was the demon's prison. Or maybe I completely misunderstood the lore...

Swearing violently in my head out of sheer terror, I noticed the body flinch and shake its head.

"Iruka-san, is everything alright?" the medic asked, holding his hands up cautiously.

"Yes. Everything is fine, just... feeling a bit dizzy..."

I kept my mouth shut, but the second the doctor left, I commented mentally:

Yeah, other than me being trapped in here, everything is peachy.

The body stiffened. The entity controlling it gasped aloud, "Who are you?!"

Your friendly neighborhood voice in your head! I couldn't resist the nervous joke.

After that answer, the entity—identified as 'Iruka from Naruto'—fell into stunned silence.

Uhhh... I felt awkward. Knock knock?

"Who are you?!" he roared out loud, scaring away the little birds that had landed on the windowsill.

Whoops, guess they can't hear me outside... Hello, I'm your schizophrenia. I'll just sit quietly in the corner, okay?

"WHAT?!" my roommate hissed.

Strangely enough, orderlies with straightjackets hadn't burst into the room yet.

I'm your schizophrenia! I laughed, though it sounded hysterical even in my own mind. ...Okay, bad joke. My name is... or was, I guess... Aidan. Nice to meet you! Or not... Whatever.

I don't know what Iruka did, but suddenly his voice echoed purely in my mind, not out loud.

[What are you doing in my head?]

Just chatting with you, I replied, dropping the formalities. Honestly? I have no idea. I think I died...

Rolling the thought over, I realized I wasn't having a panic attack. I felt completely detached from the fact that my old life was over. Logically, I knew I should be terrified, but I felt nothing about my possible death. A little sadness, a little annoyance. Dead is dead, no point whining about it. Maybe I just couldn't process it. Regardless, my current situation was vastly more pressing.

[Are you trying to steal my body?!] Iruka's panicked voice broke my introspection.

Huh? I choked on imaginary air. No, no, no! I didn't skip out on my teaching degree back home just to become a teacher here! Teach your own little monsters! I'd rather just watch from the sidelines!

[From the sidelines? Why? You're going to stay in my head?!]

What do you mean 'why'? I don't know, maybe I will stay! And for the record, I didn't pick where I ended up! If I had a choice, I'd rather be Naruto's voice in his head alongside the giant fox! I like animals! Foxes are awesome!

[How do you know about that?!] I couldn't see a face, but I felt my host narrowing his eyes suspiciously. [How do you know about the Bijuu?! What ARE you?]

Who you calling a 'What'?! I was genuinely offended. My name is Aidan Lowell! And I know the future! ...Assuming I'm not currently lying in a coma like a vegetable back home.

Iruka didn't answer, sinking into a long silence. I wished he would speak, because intrusive images were creeping into my mind: a white hospital room packed with electronics, weeping relatives, and my gray, mummy-like body tangled in IVs and breathing tubes.

Is this what my parents' last days looked like? I suddenly remembered standing in a morgue viewing room, looking at two bodies under white sheets. Nobody told me they were pulling the plug that day. Nobody told me there were no chances left.

The memory flared, forcing me to relive the worst day of my life. The day my timeline split into "Before" and "After."

Yeah, I was a kid, but not so young that they couldn't let me say goodbye properly! I could have handled it! I wanted to be there until their last breath... instead of listening to the hypocritical bullshit from my aunt, who had spent her entire life jealous of my mother. My mom forgave her sister way too much. And I was too naive and stupid to see it.

To shake off the depressing memories, I decided to mess with my new roommate.

Heed my words, mortal. I shall predict the future! I declared, still stung by him calling me a 'what'. Team Seven will be Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke, and Uzumaki Naruto. If you listen to me, you can avoid a lot of headaches. Got it?

The reaction was immediate.

[Will the Fox break out?!] The venom in his mental voice was chilling. Our hands clenched into fists, trembling slightly. [That cursed demon! Cursed Naruto!]

I thought you were his friend, I said, completely taken aback.

[Friend?!] Iruka scoffed, the mental equivalent of a sneer. [Me? Friends with the Bijuu that killed my parents? My clan? That 'friendship' is a mission!]

I stayed quiet, letting him vent. Hit a nerve, huh? Iruka went on a long, bitter, vitriolic rant about the intelligence (or lack thereof) of the current Hokage, the Council, and some 'boss'. Once he ran out of steam, he started interrogating me on what else I knew, asking what rock I crawled out from under to not know basic facts. From what I gathered, he was still wary of me, but less than before. I stayed silent. I didn't want to tell this two-faced bastard anything else.

While I sulked in the dark, Iruka threatened to find 'specialists' to forcibly evict me from his brain. He was trying to provoke me into talking, but I genuinely had nothing to say.

"Iruka-sensei! Hello!" A voice echoed into the void.

Suddenly, I desperately wanted to see who had come to visit. My burning curiosity somehow hijacked the optical nerve—I could see through our eyes, though I couldn't feel the body at all.

"Hello, Naruto-kun," Umino nodded, plastering on a fake smile. I could tell it was fake because the eye muscles barely crinkled.

The kid smiled brightly in return. It was incredibly disorienting to look at someone without being able to move the eyes or even blink.

"Are you okay?" Umino asked, completely failing to offer the kid a seat on the stool or the empty bed next to us.

"I'm great!" the boy beamed, panting like he'd sprinted the whole way here. "Iruka-sensei, how are you? Did you get hurt bad?"

Uzumaki Naruto. The main character of that stoned mangaka's crazy story.

He was just a little kid, maybe nine or ten years old, with messy blond hair of an unnatural shade, a pleasant face, large, incredibly naive blue eyes, and unusually dark eyelashes for a blond. The whisker marks on his cheeks made him look like a kid who hadn't washed off his face paint from a school play. Unlike the doctor, Naruto had distinctly European features, though there was a hint of something Eastern in his face.

It was uncanny how perfectly he matched his animated counterpart. However, instead of the iconic orange-and-blue jumpsuit, he was wearing a faded gray t-shirt with a red swirl on it, indeterminate dark shorts, and blue sandals that looked like boots with the toes cut off. His clothes were completely ragged, riddled with mismatched holes, and his shirt had a crude, lumpy seam up the side that looked like a fat caterpillar. You'd be embarrassed to wear that outfit to do yard work, let alone walk around in public.

I highly doubt that shirt started out gray, I noted internally. This Naruto didn't inspire annoyance or laughter like the cartoon one. He just inspired pity.

I felt a sudden, violent urge to find the local child protective services and deliver a solid kick to their kidneys for this kid's "happy childhood." Because his eyes were sad and trusting, like a stray puppy hoping that this time, a raised hand meant a pet instead of a beating. I burned with righteous fury, realizing with crystal clarity that this wasn't a fictional character anymore. This was a real, living child.

A miserable little kid with a garbage life and an equally garbage future. And if, in the manga, Iruka was his surrogate father figure who bought him ramen... in reality, it was a complete lie. I could physically feel the seething hatred hiding behind the "kind" sensei's smile. My aunt's husband used to look at me exactly like that.

Do you have any idea how much he trusts you?! I hissed mentally. He looks at you like a father! He doesn't deserve this! He—

[Shut up! That monster deserves every bit of it!] the shinobi roared back, while physically maintaining his fake, gentle smile.

It felt like I'd been punched in the gut. Pure rage flooded my mind. I wanted to seize control and punch this hypocritical prick in his lying face. This two-faced bastard filled me with a deep, visceral hatred I had never felt before. It was as if he was lying directly to me.

You know what you are? You're a monster! I practically screamed in his mind. You're a moral void! I pity your parents; they raised an absolute piece of trash!

[Shut up!] Forgetting about Naruto, Iruka shrieked mentally, sounding like he was standing right next to me.

Smelling blood, I pushed harder. Your father would have gutted himself out of shame! If he wasn't already dead! And your mother would have drowned herself in a pond just so she wouldn't have to see what you became!

[What do you know about me?! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!]

Everything! I hissed venomously. You hear me?! I know everything!

Iruka fell into a stunned, horrified silence.

Your family is lucky they died, I spat, so they didn't have to see what their son turned into. You are a disgrace to your name. You aren't worthy! You hear me? You aren't worthy of their memory, of their legacy! They were heroes, and you're not even human!

While Iruka was reeling from the verbal beatdown, I forcefully shoved him away from the mental controls. I didn't know how I did it, but the first thing I managed to do was blink. Then, reluctantly, my fingers twitched. I bent my arm. My ears were ringing, the world felt like it was spinning slowly, and I felt like a hamster that had just faceplanted on a high-speed wheel.

"Iruka-sensei! Iruka-sensei? What's wrong?!"

The boy was standing next to the bed, gripping the edge of the sheet so hard his knuckles were white, terrified by what had happened during our internal screaming match. Since neither I nor the owner of the body had been piloting it, it had just frozen solid like a glitching robot.

Dark spots danced in my vision, and my head swam, but I was thrilled. I was in the driver's seat.

"Just got dizzy for a second," I managed to say, struggling with a jaw that felt made of wood. "I'll live. Tell me what happened. I barely remember anything."

The boy immediately nodded enthusiastically and launched into an animated recap, gesturing wildly and making funny faces, constantly checking to see my reaction.

From Naruto, I learned that he had run into the forest after stealing the First Hokage's scroll. But Mizuki hadn't been at the rendezvous point. So, Naruto just sat down and started learning a jutsu to impress his "kind" sensei. But right when he figured it out, "I" showed up, screaming about ripping his ears off and other exotic disciplinary measures. Then the two senseis fought, Mizuki monologued and revealed that Naruto was... Nope, not a jinchuuriki, but the literal reincarnation of the Demon Fox!

Then, just like canon, Umino saved Naruto by taking a giant shuriken to the back. He cried (the metal probably hit a nerve, that shit hurts) and spouted some nonsense about how he and Naruto were alike. Then the ninja started gossiping like old maids again. Well, they fought, then gossiped, but the gist was that Naruto saved a half-dead Iruka. If Naruto had run, Iruka would be a corpse right now.

Continuing the sob story, Umino had given Naruto his headband, saying "You pass!" and heroically passed out. That was exactly when I woke up, just in time to complain about being crushed. After that, Naruto had to haul two unconscious adult men back to the village. Good thing he had Shadow Clones to help.

Some random trash chunin almost killed the village's tactical nuke, and the ANBU only showed up when the kid was practically at the gates!

[Let me out of here, demon!]

Buzz off! I swatted the body's owner away.

Obeying my will, the darkness (I didn't know what else to call the mindscape) built a wall between me and Iruka, muffling his voice to a faint whisper.

And now I got to experience the absolute joy of being alive in this body... I thought I was in pain before. I was an idiot. Everything hurt! Breathing... hell, blinking hurt! Through the ringing in my ears, I could barely hear what Uzumaki was saying.

When his story reached the part about the ANBU taking me away to the hospital, and how the rest of the shinobi (who Mizuki had "warned") had swarmed the plaza... Naruto seemed to dim. Tears pooled in his eyes, though he tried to laugh it off.

"What were they gonna do to me anyway? I did the right thing, and the old man Hokage was there!"

I only didn't understand one thing: Why? Why was he telling Iruka all this? Did he really not feel how much this guy despised him? Or did that little theatrical performance in the woods completely win him over? If so, give Iruka an Oscar for best actor.

A sharp, familiar pain stabbed at my chest. I inhaled sharply through my nose, grinding my teeth. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead, immediately soaking into the bandages and my damp hair.

"Iruka-sensei?" the boy asked softly.

"Yeah?" I exhaled with effort.

"Are you... are you really not mad at me?"

I raised a questioning eyebrow, nearly hissing in pain—there were definitely staples or stitches up there.

Not understanding why he was asking, I didn't speak. The boy elaborated.

"...For not believing you right away," the kid looked down at his feet. "...And the scroll..."

Thinking for a moment, I made sure to enunciate clearly so I didn't just hiss at him. "You didn't know Mizuki was a traitor. And the scroll..." I saw his eyes watering. "Forget about it," I waved my hand dismissively, offering an encouraging smile.

The body punished me instantly for the gesture. Hissing in pain, I grabbed my bandaged wrist and sighed carefully. "The Third has plenty more of that cra... cough... of those scrolls lying around!" I covered my near-slip-up with a fake cough.

To put it mildly, Iruka was in absolute shock. I could feel it. Uzumaki was too; he heard the slip-up and fully understood it. For them, a scroll with ink squiggles was priceless. To me? I wouldn't hesitate to use it as toilet paper if I was out of options.

"Iruka-sensei," Naruto shifted awkwardly. "...Um... what about... Ramen..." Then he suddenly brightened up and started talking a mile a minute. "Iruka-sensei, let me show you the Shadow Clone hand seals! Then you can come to Ichiraku with me!"

I actually choked in surprise. "No. Don't."

"Why?!" Naruto and Iruka yelled at the exact same time.

To the latter, I replied: Because I said so, that's why! Nobody asked you!

To the former, I explained patiently, "First, techniques are ninja secrets. A good ninja doesn't go around showing off their secrets. Second, I literally do not have the energy right now. I can barely lift my arm, let alone perform jutsu."

"Oh, I get it!" the kid beamed. "Then I'll bring the ramen here!"

"Think you can manage it without spilling it or getting caught by the nurses?"

"You bet! Dattebayo! I'll be right back!"

Reaching into the bag on the nightstand, I pulled out a few bills—somehow inherently knowing exactly where the money was kept—and handed them to Naruto.

[Are you crazy?! That's my money!]

It was yours, now it's ours... Shut up, cheapskate! I'm starving!

Naruto looked at the money suspiciously, then back up at me.

"Just go, you menace."

"Why am I a menace?"

"Go," I smiled. "I'll explain later."

The boy hopped right out the window.

"He's a funny kid," I muttered, clutching my chest. My heart was acting up again. Worse this time. It wasn't the dull ache I was used to in my old life. This felt like a bundle of thick, sharp needles being pushed through my veins, squeezing my lungs.

[Funny?! He's a demon!]

Naruto is not a Bijuu, not a demon, and not the literal devil! Frankly, with how you people treat him, I'm amazed he hasn't burned Konoha to the ground. I would have! Imagine what would happen if Naruto found out his true history? Huh? His dad is the Fourth Hokage, his mom was the previous Jinchuuriki and a princess of the Uzumaki clan, his godfather is a legendary Sannin, and his 'favorite teacher' is a scumbag who fantasizes about murdering him. Yeah, I added thoughtfully, you people are a special breed of awful.

[You're a demon!] the host yelled, thrashing against my mental blockade.

Oh, really? Thanks! I paused dramatically. And our name is... Legion! I couldn't hold it in and started laughing. Me, Bob, Jimmy, and all the voices in my head! Oh, and Leonidas! Can't forget the three hundred Spartans!

...Ah, hell! That hurts! My heart gave a violent twinge.

[Demon!]

You're an idiot! I groaned, mentally rolling on the floor with laughter. This whole village is full of idiots!

[Takes one to know one!]

Catching my breath, I deadpanned, Thank you, your feedback is very important to us.

Iruka started screaming bloody murder about his parents. But why take it out on the kid when the giant Fox killed them?! And he claimed he would gladly kill Naruto if the kid started transforming into his "true" form. It was insane. Just pure, unadulterated madness. And Danzo was the one who assigned him to the Academy as a teacher, calling him the "perfect candidate" for the mission. I still didn't fully grasp what the mission was, where it came from, or how it happened. I didn't even understand what connected Danzo and Iruka; the host's rant had been way too chaotic. They belonged to two completely different worlds.

But the name Danzo spoke volumes. If the head of ANBU Root—or ANBU V2, whatever they called it—was involved, nothing good would come of it.

I didn't know much, but ANBU was basically black-ops SWAT. My superficial impression was that they were super-soldiers in carnival masks and cool tactical gear. Sometimes they wore red scarves to look edgy in fanart. Black, white, and red was always a killer color combo.

Anyway, ANBU Root was like a deep-state version of regular ANBU. The Hokage ran the regular guys, but the creepy guy named Danzo ran Root. Supposedly he answered to the Hokage, but they hated each other. I vaguely remembered a filler episode where Danzo tried to assassinate the Third to take over the Leaf Village, but failed.

My thoughts on local deep-state politics were interrupted by Naruto. He climbed back through the window balancing two cups of instant ramen and a thermos of hot water.

"Iruka-sensei, I got it!" the boy shouted the moment he let go of the window sill.

"Shh!" I pressed a finger to my lips, though I was struggling to hide a smile. "What's the first rule of being a ninja in enemy territory?"

"Huh?"

"Silence. The hospital staff are the enemy. No casualties allowed. You can't be seen. If you're spotted, the mission is a failure. Got it?"

"Yeah!" The kid nodded eagerly, a mischievous glint in his eye as he quietly shut the door and pulled the privacy screen back into place.

The ramen was thoroughly unimpressive. Just standard instant noodles. A shame I couldn't read the packaging. Naruto, on the other hand, inhaled it like it was a gourmet meal.

"Iruka-sensei, why are you looking at me like that?" the boy asked, placing the change on the nightstand. "You're acting weird today."

Naruto isn't as dumb as people think.

"Just thinking," I waved a hand carefully. "Don't worry about it. You can sit if you want."

"Hmm." Naruto stared at me like he wanted to interrogate me, but instead, he just plopped down at the foot of my bed and started babbling about whatever came to mind. He actually seemed pretty bright, though his vocabulary was terrible and he used a ton of filler words. He retold the fight with Mizuki again. This time with more details.

At the end, he pulled out his new forehead protector—a metal plate held by six rivets on a blue band—and declared: "Now I'm definitely gonna be Hokage! I'm a real shinobi now! Thank you, Iruka-sensei!"

"I'm sure you will," I flinched at a sound in the hall. "Quiet, someone's coming..."

The moment I said it, there was a knock on the door.

"Kuso!" Naruto instantly dove under the bed, dragging his empty bowl and the thermos with him. Somehow, he didn't spill a drop. I looked around frantically, but couldn't figure out where to hide my half-eaten noodles in time.

"Iruka-san," a melodious, almost musical female voice called out. "I brought you..."

Pushing the privacy screen aside with a beige ballet flat, a girl stepped up to the bed holding a tray. It smelled amazing, but my stomach was already full of cheap noodles and my appetite vanished.

Like the doctor, she wore a beige uniform and a beret, but on her, the outfit looked completely different. She was incredibly well-endowed, and a simple apron tied at her waist accentuated a perfect hourglass figure.

"...some food," she finished lamely, looking from the steaming cup of ramen in my hands to the hospital dinner on her tray.

Setting the tray down, she put her hands on her hips.

"Why are you sitting up?!" she demanded, her slanted violet eyes flashing with anger in her pretty, tanned face.

I snorted, barely holding back a laugh. In her fury, this petite girl just looked incredibly cute and funny. It took me a few seconds to compose myself.

"I'm not," I replied completely calmly. "Um... could you remind me of your name?"

"Your back..." she trailed off, turning bright red and nervously fiddling with the end of her thick chestnut braid. "Miyuri," she said meekly. Then added, "You shouldn't have sat up, Iruka-san. Excuse me."

I barely contained a howl of laughter when this walking hazard spun on her heel to storm out and walked right into the doorframe. Thankfully, she didn't seem hurt.

Man, look at those airbags, I thought. The braid whipped around, smacking against an equally impressive backside. Damn, she's packing a literal dump truck back there.

My crass thoughts were interrupted by an angry mental yell.

[Pervert!] Iruka screeched.

I am an artist and a connoisseur of female beauty. And nobody asked you, so zip it!

He totally ruined the mood, the bastard.

"I'm fine!" Miyuri yelled from the hall, practically sprinting away.

"Well. What was that all about?" I asked aloud, talking to the empty room.

The ramen fanatic crawled out from his hiding spot.

"Iruka-sensei," Naruto drawled mischievously, eyeing the hospital dinner. "Miyuri-san totally has a crush on you. Look at all the good food she brought!"

"Listening to you," I stretched carefully, "you'd think love is measured in calories. Are you sure you aren't in love with Ayame?"

Naruto blinked his big blue eyes in confusion.

"Go ahead, eat it," I nodded at the tray. "I'm full."

[How do you know Teuchi's daughter?!] Iruka flared up in the back of my mind. [You lied to me!]

Piss off, idiot!

"I love Sakura-chan!" the boy pouted, but eagerly snatched the tray and pulled it onto his lap.

"You're quite the masochist, huh?" I chuckled.

"What's that?"

"It's... well... people who enjoy getting beat up."

"...I guess..." the boy muttered uncertainly, scratching the back of his head.

I cut him off. "For the future, if you don't know what a word means, or you aren't sure, always ask. Masochists are perverts who get off on being hit and humiliated. You aren't one of those, right?"

"Ew!" he grimaced, offended. "I'm not a pervert!"

A while later, the Asian-looking doctor returned, injected something translucent-green into my IV from a small glass syringe, lowered the bed, and told Naruto it was time to leave. Blinking sleepily as the drugs hit, I noticed that when the boy asked to stay a little longer, Miyuri magically appeared, hissed at him, and physically shoved him out the door.

What a fury. Note to self: do not hit on the nurse, I thought, feeling the world start to spin again as I slowly sank back down into the dark.

 

[trashtaker]

I wonder if he would actually encourage Naruto to leave the village and just live somewhere peaceful

 

[DumDumDum]

Finding myself trapped in pitch darkness, I called out cheerfully, a friendly grin plastered across my face.

"Iruka-san! Hunting season is officially open! I'm gonna kill you, you bastard! I'll be the last one standing! Just like... uh... what's his name... Oh! Like Duncan MacLeod!"

Suddenly, a wave of primal terror washed over me. Even though the emotion wasn't mine, I felt it with terrifying intensity. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced on Earth. I'm pretty sure if I had my own heart right now, it would have stopped on the spot. Once I recovered from the shock, I strained my ears, unable to believe it.

Iruka was completely gone.

Before this, even when he was silent, I could always feel his presence lingering in the background.

'Iruka? Hey, I was just kidding. Where are you?' I called out into the void of my mind. 'Come on, man, I am going to blow my cover completely without you! Iruka? Come out, I won't hurt you, I swear! If you stop playing dumb, I'll tell you about the future and how to fix all kinds of disasters before they even start! Where the hell are you?' Not a single peep.

It felt like I wandered through that darkness for an eternity, but I couldn't find him anywhere.

"A lonely psycho in your cranium," I started singing to keep myself amused, "has no idea what to dooooo!" As if in response to my miserable howling inside, muffled screams from the outside world began piercing through the darkness. I could only hope they hadn't heard my internal concert.

"Iruka-san! Wake up!" Something sharp and foul-smelling was shoved violently under my nose. "Iruka-san!"

The pungent stench popped me right out of my inner world like a cork from a bottle.

I pushed myself up on my elbows with difficulty. Hearing hysterical sobbing, I forced my stubborn neck to turn toward the sound. Miyuri was standing in the far corner, weeping dramatically and wiping her tears with the tip of her braid.

Talk about a tragic beauty. Her hair was a total mess of tears and snot.

"Iruka-san!" A crowd had gathered around my bed, armed with glowing green hands, syringes, and whatever else they could grab. One particularly creative fellow was standing there holding a bedpan.

'If that's their alternative to anesthesia, screw that. To hell with this entire medical system.'

"How are you feeling?" asked a gray-haired man in a beige bandana, finally looking up from his paperwork.

"Fine," I mumbled, sounding thoroughly unconvinced and terrified. What I actually wanted to do was dive headfirst through the nearest window screaming, 'Help! Murder!' "What happened?"

The doctor scribbled something in his chart and walked out, gesturing for the rest of the staff to follow. I stared blankly, completely stunned by how easily I'd been ignored. Only the nurse remained.

"Um... Miyuri-san," I started, shuddering slightly as she loudly sniffled, "what's wrong with me?"

She sobbed and launched into her explanation. According to her, the moment I fell asleep, my heart had flatlined.

'Brilliant, Aidan. You literally scared Iruka to death. Nice going...'

"The demon! He cursed you!" her thin fingers nervously tugged at her braid. "I was so scared, so scared!"

Why hadn't anyone kicked this crazy woman out yet? Curses belonged in an entirely different genre. I could handle a lot, but the sheer, unadulterated seriousness in her voice was deeply unsettling.

For the next few days, they grilled me non-stop, running tests and asking questions... endless questions.

Every single day, it was the exact same thing: "Iruka-sensei, how are you feeling?"

I was sorely tempted to snap, 'Right now, right here, I'm going to drop dead!' Instead, I mumbled, "Fine," before adding under my breath, "Though I'm probably going to die of boredom in here anyway..."

"Iruka-san, I'm afraid your brain might have suffered from a temporary lack of oxygen," the resident sawbones announced. "Can you try to remember what you were doing, say, a month ago?"

'All right, finally something new. Not another question about my health!'

"A month ago?" I knit my brows slightly. Questions like this could easily blow my cover. Fortunately, I had already spent plenty of time figuring out exactly how to lie and to whom.

'If I had to be completely honest, Doc, I'd tell you that Iruka was busy sowing the seeds of knowledge—except none of it was wholesome, none of it was kind, and absolutely none of it was meant to last. I mean, what else is a ninja instructor supposed to teach a bunch of child assassins?'

The medic—whose name completely escaped me—hovered his pencil over his clipboard expectantly. I locked into my cover story, mentally reviewing every trick in the book to look convincing.

'Ever been to the theater? No? Well, you're about to get a front-row seat.' I barely managed to suppress a smirk. Forcing a look of fleeting confusion, I frowned and slowly shook my head.

"In that case, how far back can you look into your past?" the medical-nin asked, leaning forward.

"I remember..." I paused, rubbing my forehead in faux concentration while mentally trying to list every single Eevee evolution. I needed to look like I was desperately digging through the shattered ruins of my mind.

Through a series of leading questions, the doctor concluded that my memory was limited to the past week in the hospital, give or take a few days, along with some fragmented recollections of the fight with Mizuki.

Thank God for Naruto, and thank God for Kishimoto. May your days be blessed, you beautiful bastards.

'Come on, don't look at me with those giant saucer eyes,' I urged the medic silently. 'Just write down the magic word: Amnesia.'

The guy chewed on the end of his bulky fountain pen, jotted down a few columns of kanji, and finally told me that by tomorrow, I could hit the road. He didn't put it quite so bluntly, but that was the gist of it.

'Freedom!'

The next day, I found myself standing by the main entrance like a total idiot, having absolutely no clue where to go. I had completely forgotten to ask where Iruka actually lived.

'Oh, sure, it's always so easy for other reincarnated souls. Their hosts quietly stick around and help them navigate their new lives, but this absolute prick... Whatever. Fine. I'll figure it out myself.'

The small park in front of the main gates was significantly larger and more inviting than the brief glimpses shown in the anime. A strip of emerald-green lawn separated the path from the rest of the park. Rounded bushes heavy with massive white blossoms nestled beneath the wide canopies of ornamental trees, casting deep shadows over the walkways and benches. After being trapped within four clinic walls, the scenery made me want to take a deep, appreciative breath. So, I did. But right as I inhaled, a gust of wind kicked up a cloud of fine dust from the busy street, sending it straight down my throat.

"Dammit!" I coughed violently. "Why can't anything just be normal?!"

"Iruka-sensei!" A blindingly bright orange blur erupted from a bench behind the bushes.

"Naruto? How long have you been out here?"

"A while! I mean, no, not long..."

He had been staking out the place every single morning, waiting for my discharge. I'd often spotted him from my window, wandering across the grass among the squirrels, sharing nuts or candies with them—though I couldn't read the wrappers through the bouts of dizziness that kept hitting me. He hadn't tried to sneak back into my room, though.

For a second, I imagined him waiting exactly like this for the real Iruka, and a wave of nausea hit me. It was even more sickening to realize that Iruka—and by extension, I—was tied directly to Root and its leader. If I had pieced things together correctly, monitoring Naruto at the Academy had been Danzo's idea. Meanwhile, the Third Hokage had decided to play the long game: just become his friend! I couldn't wrap my head around how it had come to this. This wasn't some simple chunin instructor; this guy was a full-blown double agent. Did the Hokage have no idea Iruka belonged to Danzo, or did he deliberately arrange things so the man was always right under his nose?

While I was lost in thought, Naruto kept leading me somewhere.

"Makes perfect sense. By which I mean, none at all," I sighed, snapping out of the mental soup I'd brewed inside my... yeah, my skull now.

"Iruka-sensei," Naruto tugged at my sleeve. "Iruka-sensei?"

I offered a noncommittal grunt.

"Iruka-sensei, we're gonna have to wait," the boy said, pointing at a local establishment.

The first floor of a small building was taken up by a bar counter. All six stools were packed with a tight-knit group of chunin; the five white banners bearing logos did little to hide their rowdy shoulder-shoving or drown out their loud voices.

"Hmm... aren't you sick of it yet?"

"Sick of what?"

"Ramen. I'm asking if you're sick of ramen."

"Not really..."

"Then let's go... uh, Naruto, where can we buy some groceries?"

"Iruka-sensei?!" The blonde's eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

I gave a sheepish smile, scratching the back of my head the exact way Naruto always did. "Didn't I mention I lost my memory?"

The market the boy led me to looked like a Chinatown straight out of a movie, except it was notably cleaner and the stalls featured food I actually recognized, rather than an endless sea of fish, mysterious tentacled creatures, and face-melting spices. I was almost relieved to find that butcher shops vastly outnumbered fishmongers, a large lobster cost more than fresh veal, the dairy vendor sold something practically identical to sour cream, and the vegetable stalls carried both beets and potatoes. Then again, why would there be a Japanese-style food scarcity here? The Land of Fire wasn't some tiny island nation; it was a massive territory right in the center of a continent.

Having picked up everything that caught my eye, I was about to call out to Naruto when I noticed a group of kids slightly younger than him.

"Demon, demon..." their loud whispers drifted over. "Run!"

Dodging past me, the children scattered down different aisles, drawing furious shouts from vendors whose displays they nearly knocked over. A sour-faced shopkeeper glared at Naruto, who had inadvertently scared the other kids away from her stall. He was counting a handful of coins, staring longingly at the candy. It was obvious he was short on cash.

"Naruto."

"Huh?" Uzumaki blinked, distracted. "I'll be right there."

The woman pursed her lips, shooting me a stern look.

"Get whatever you want. I'll pay for it."

"What?!" The boy gasped, completely unable to believe his ears. He let out a shaky breath. "Thank you."

There was something else packed into that 'thank you' besides mere gratitude.

The little bottomless pit practically cleared out half the stall. I actually started sweating over whether I'd have enough cash to cover it all. I didn't want to take the candy away from him, though; I just couldn't bring myself to ruin his day. Fortunately, it turned out fine—I had enough, with change to spare! Inspecting the wallet, my only real fear was that the original Iruka had been carrying his entire life savings on him.

Munching blissfully on some lollipop-adjacent treat, Naruto pointed out the way. However, he only knew the general area.

"Is it here?"

A massive building with rounded walls loomed ahead, looking remarkably like a bizarre ship, complete with exposed, non-functional pipes.

"Yep."

I pulled a ring of keys from my pouch, accidentally nicking my finger on a kunai, and kept walking up the stairs to the second floor, hypnotized by the swelling drop of blood. My body pulled me toward a specific spot, as if it automatically knew where to go. The trick was not to fight the... muscle memory.

To be honest, as I unlocked the door, I half-expected it to swing open on its own to reveal some stern jonin glaring at me with dead eyes, ready to punch me right in the face before asking, 'Why are you trying to break into my apartment with your keys?' Whew. Dodged a bullet there, I thought, cautiously peering inside.

The door glided open silently into a bright room with two large windows and a small fortress of bookshelves. Likely due to the lack of wall space, the center of the room was dominated by a low, dark-wood coffee table and a set of upholstered furniture wrapped in thick red covers with a yellow floral pattern. I had been bracing myself for tatami mats and paper sliding doors, not hardwood floors and a slightly tarnished, classic-style chandelier missing half its crystal pendants and faux-gilt. Opening the door wider so Naruto could squeeze past, I bumped into something.

Instantly, a chaotic avalanche of mismatched shoes flooded the entryway, kicking up loose papers scattered across the floor. Like a trail of breadcrumbs left along the dark parquet, a massively long scroll had unrolled almost all the way to the threshold, detailing an incredibly thorough grocery list. The coffee table itself, aside from writing supplies and loose sheets, was decorated by an entire army of mugs.

Handing the grocery bags to Naruto, I asked him to take them to the kitchen while I stayed behind to clean up the mess.

"Where's the kitchen?"

"No clue," I answered honestly. "Maybe through there?" I pointed toward the left door on pure instinct.

The entryway, marked by a massive hairline crack running from the floor to the ceiling, stirred a vague sense of familiarity. The authenticity of the feeling was confirmed by a paper lantern bearing the kanji for 'Marine' enclosed in a circle, hanging from an L-shaped bracket. The sense of déjà vu intensified.

This was certainly interesting, even if it wasn't at all what I had envisioned.

The only clues that this wasn't a Western apartment were the sunken genkan entryway and a pair of geta sandals mixed in with the slippers. This entire collection had cascaded out of the shoe cabinet when the whole unit tore free from the wall, currently hanging by a single screw and dumping its contents onto the floor.

'It's like the guy knew I'd be moving in and decided to leave a complete disaster zone. They should have named him Piggy, not Dolphin. Welcome, "honored" guests! Try not to break your necks on the footwear... wait, what the hell is this?' I picked up a single, violently neon-blue women's flip-flop.

"Huh... a fetishist?" It was just the one shoe; every other piece of footwear belonged to a man.

Deciding not to mess with a cabinet that was currently holding on by a prayer, I kicked the shoes against the wall and left it at that. Aside from the paperwork and a forgotten mug on the coffee table, the place was relatively clean. I picked up the mug and glanced inside. Beneath a thick blanket of mold swirled a dark, murky sludge that looked absolutely nothing like tea or juice.

Coffee. I grimaced. 'I really hope I don't have an addiction to feed. I absolutely hate coffee.'

Two doors led out of the makeshift library, one to the right, one to the left, alongside a small hallway with a staircase leading upward. I gave a mental whistle, appreciating the sheer scale of the place.

To my left, I found a kitchen-dining area featuring a distinctly utilitarian, boxy cabinet design, completely devoid of any traditional Asian accents. The kitchen opened up to a balcony overlooking the bustling street. Out of sheer curiosity, I opened and closed the balcony door a few times, noting that the moment it latched, the apartment became incredibly quiet. This was despite the fact that the single-pane glass was nowhere near modern double-glazing.

The only real Asian vibe came from the bathroom: 'Sure, give the apartment massive dimensions, but make the bathroom so small that if you bend over to pick up the soap, your ass hits the door.' The bathtub was a short, deep, rectangular basin with high sides and no curtains whatsoever. Instead, the entire space was lined with small, gray-green tiles that felt slightly warm under my bare feet, complete with a secondary drain installed in the floor. As much as I generally detested shared bathrooms in modern layouts, this entire cramped alcove desperately needed to be knocked through into the adjacent hallway and separate toilet to create one proper, spacious master bath.

The bedroom and the smaller room didn't really stand out, so I headed back down to the kitchen. I wanted to inspect my new living quarters more thoroughly, but my stomach was staging a full-scale riot. Besides, it was terrible manners to leave a guest completely to his own devices.

"Iruka-sensei, should I take off?" Naruto's question caught me completely off guard.

"Where to?" I blinked. "Come back inside and sit down. I promised I'd feed you, didn't I?"

I handled the kitchen knife like a seasoned chef, dicing everything so quickly I didn't even have time to tear up from the onions. While I worked my magic over the stove, Naruto quietly slipped away to explore the apartment. I pretended not to notice that a shadow clone had stayed behind to rustle through the bag of candy.

"Iruka-sensei," the clone spoke up, "why do you always eat ramen if you know how to cook like this?"

I had drifted deep into my own thoughts while prepping and nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden voice. "I don't like cooking. I know how to do it, but I don't enjoy it."

"Oh. Makes sense."

Damn, the food was already done, and I was just standing here spacing out. "Naruto."

The clone vanished with a soft pop, leaving the real boy sitting at the table, staring innocently at the ceiling as if nothing had happened. Yeah, right. Like I bought that for a second.

I ladled the crimson soup into deep bowls and dropped into a chair. The kitchen furniture was nothing special, looking like it had been thrown together just to fill the space, but the refrigerator was an absolute marvel. It was a massive, pastel-beige monster that matched the varnished wood of the cabinets, featuring a heavy handle straight off a vintage car and a door thick enough to belong on a fallout shelter.

"What's this?" Naruto poked at the cabbage with his chopsticks. "Some kind of new ramen?"

"No." I gently took the crimson-stained chopsticks from his hands and traded them for a ceramic spoon.

"Then what is it?"

"Borscht," I muttered, the foreign word feeling awkward on my tongue.

Inspecting the bowl from various angles, Naruto used the spoon to submerge the dollop of sour cream.

"Don't worry, it's not poison. Bon appétit."

"Itadakimasu."

My lips automatically echoed the phrase. Literally, it meant 'I humbly receive this food,' but to my ears, it felt like gibberish that came with subtitles burned into my brain. After the bland sushi and tasteless hospital gruel I'd been enduring, this fresh, un-simmered borscht tasted like absolute heaven.

'How is Misha doing? He must have been terrified,' I thought, thoughtfully licking my clean spoon. 'Has he told Auntie that I passed away yet? Or is he being his usual indifferent self, only realizing I'm dead when I start rotting and smelling up the place?' Sometimes I had called my aunt 'Mom,' and sometimes I forgot to. Even though they had taken me in, they had never truly felt like real family, though they probably thought otherwise. I had smiled and lied just to get them to leave me alone. I understood their intentions, but their performative condolences and hollow sympathy always made me sick to my stomach. Every single one of my distant relatives had made it their personal mission to put on a grand display of grief, when in reality, they were just tearing open my wounds...

"Refill!" Naruto's voice snapped me out of the spiral. "This is way better than ramen! ...Iruka-sensei, you won't tell Teuchi-san, right?"

"Hmm?" Still trapped in the gravity of my old memories, I blinked. "Tell him what?"

"You know, what I said," Naruto muttered, screw-facing as he struggled to pronounce the foreign word. "That borsch... borscht is better than ramen."

"My lips are sealed," I replied with a melancholy smile.

By his second bowl, Naruto had abandoned all pretense, grabbing the ladle to serve himself.

"Careful, you're gonna burst," I snorted, amused.

Naruto froze mid-scoop, looking alarmed.

"If you're hungry, keep eating," I laughed, lightly tapping my fingernail against the side of the pot. "I'm not taking it away. I'm just worried you're going to give yourself a massive stomachache."

The bowls I'd picked out were by no means small.

"No way! Dattebayo!" Naruto beamed, his grin returning instantly.

I briefly considered telling him to shut up and eat, but he never gave me the chance. If Naruto wasn't chewing, he was talking.

Just as the streetlamps outside flickered to life, an unexpected knock rattled the door. Without even thinking to check the peephole, I swung it wide open and froze.

'Does this place just not have burglars or thieves? ...Right, I'm being stupid. This is an entire city of trained killers; breaking and entering or running a racket here is a surefire way to get yourself executed.'

"Good evening, Iruka-san," a man greeted, wearing a mask depicting some unrecognizable creature. "Hokage-sama wishes to see you. You and Naruto both."

"Right..." I managed an uncertain reply, still trying to decipher what kind of animal was supposed to be carved into that porcelain face.

Naruto tried to slip past under my arm.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To see... the Hokage," he looked at me, bewildered.

"Go wash your face first. You've got cabbage stuck to your ear."

The boy clutched at his ears. "There's nothing there!" he huffed, annoyed, but trudged back inside anyway. He already knew where the bathroom was but headed for the kitchen sink instead.

The ANBU operative didn't move an inch, observing the interaction with naked curiosity, his green eye tracking me through the slit of his mask. Somehow, I just known the man was both surprised and deeply intrigued by my behavior.

'What is this nonsense?' I thought in a mild panic.

"Iruka-san. I was informed your memory is somewhat compromised. I've been ordered to escort you."

"Alright. ...Um, how should I address you?"

"Tiger," the man huffed, pointing a black-gloved finger at his striped mask and tapping a steel claw against the porcelain.

'Don't laugh. Whatever you do, do not laugh.'

"Right," I offered a strained smile. "Tiger-san."

It took a monumental amount of willpower to keep my head from spinning left and right as we walked. Honestly, there was plenty to look at. A dense, chaotic sprawl of infrastructure, utterly strangled by exposed pipes and haphazard wiring; mismatched windows and doors tacked onto buildings that couldn't even agree on a color scheme. Yet, despite the utter madness, the chaos possessed a distinct, undeniable style. It was an eco-apocalyptic eclecticism, as if someone had tossed several centuries of conflicting architectural eras into a blender. I forced my gaze to remain casually detached, letting my eyes skim over the structures.

'An architect's absolute worst nightmare. It looks like a head-on collision between steampunk and traditional Japanese architecture. Has anyone here ever heard of ergonomics? A person of average height would crack their skull open on that archway.' Sure enough, right above a particularly low clearance on the main street, there was a visible dent in the wood that might as well have been labeled: Strike Head Here. And this was the main thoroughfare! The illumination was equally bizarre—strange lamps jutted out from the most inexplicable positions. My eyes scanned our surroundings, lingering briefly on the sparse foot traffic and the sudden shadows shifting overhead.

'Holy hell, they really do just leap across the rooftops.'

The monumental faces of the previous Hokage loomed in the distance, a dead ringer for Mount Rushmore. I actually tripped over my own feet, staring up at them. Gradually, the massive residence of the local regime rose from behind the flattened, squat houses. The Hokage's administrative tower. In the twilight, the circular building took on a deep crimson hue, looking as though the walls had been painted in dried blood. Tiny windows were swallowed up by the sheer mass of the walls, completely crushed beneath dusty yellow roofs. Crowning the entire monstrosity was a massive circular crest bearing the kanji for Fire, flanked by crenellations that resembled a crown dissolving into the darkening sky.

I decisively loathed the local architecture. Stairs, endless stairs, and artificial light dominating everything below the top floors. Inside, the residence felt even more gargantuan. It was deceptively quiet, mostly because I could feel a dozen invisible eyes boring straight into my spine.

'My eyes are crossing from all these steps... Are we there? Oh, thank god.'

An old man sat behind a massive desk. 'A hat with curtains,' I noted, staring at the leader's traditional Kage headwear.

The old man nodded as we entered, setting aside his paperwork. His eyes crinkled as he offered a small smirk. It looked grandfatherly and warm on the surface, but if you looked closely, it was deeply calculating.

'Smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave. People love an idiot... Crap, what am I supposed to say?'

"Hokage-sama..." I started, preparing to bow.

The Third Hokage held up a hand before I could even begin to prostrate myself.

'Jesus H. Christ, what was the old man's actual name again? Sarutobi? Monkey? Whatever. Let's stick with Hokage-sama. I'll remember the rest later.'

"There is no need, Iruka-kun. You nearly became a cripple. Do not strain your back."

'Do I look like a "fragile: handle with care" package?'

Naruto threw a worried, guilty glance in my direction. The Third, however, acted as if he hadn't noticed a thing. "I am afraid that due to your memory complications, I have no choice but to relieve you of your duties instructing the young shinobi."

'Thank the gods.'

"I think I could use an instructor myself right now," I echoed the old man's somber tone perfectly.

"Iruka-sensei?!" Naruto blurted out. "Hokage-sama?!"

"Naruto, go home," the Hokage commanded calmly.

'Then why the hell did you call the kid here in the first place? He lives all the way by the Western Gates! That's practically a cross-country trek across the village in the dark! ...Wait, how the hell do I know where he lives?'

Naruto shot one last look at me before bowing out. "Good night."

The heavy door clicked shut, and the old man methodically began packing his pipe. The suffocating silence began to grate on my nerves, making me feel slightly nauseous.

"Sarutobi Hiruzen, in case it slipped your mind. My name isn't on the desk plaque."

I let out a soft sigh. "My apologies."

"It is a tragedy when an ANBU operative—even a former one—loses his memory, and with it, a wealth of invaluable experience. I will have someone look into finding you a tutor. It is a pity you never formally confirmed your rank."

Forcing a mask of quiet contemplation onto my face, my mind completely derailed.

'ANBU?! Holy hell! What do you mean, ANBU?! Academy duties, desk work, and that was supposed to be it! Where the hell did ANBU come from?! What rank is he talking about?! What else don't I know?! I suddenly have a very strong urge to pack my bags and never look back at Konoha again.'

The Third took a long drag from his pipe. "However, I do have an alternative proposal."

"What kind?" I asked quickly.

"You will be placed with Naruto," he exhaled a neat ring of grey smoke, "in a squad."

"I don't understand..." I blinked, playing dumb perfectly.

'Canon, where the hell are you?! What about Kakashi?!'

Turns out, the explanation was simple. As a punishment for his chronic tardiness, Hatake Kakashi wasn't just getting saddled with the Academy's most problematic graduate, Naruto. He was getting stuck with me, too.

"I... suppose I wouldn't mind," I murmured to the old man, sounding appropriately hesitant the moment he stopped speaking. "But... why?"

"Oh?!" The Third choked slightly on his smoke. "Excellent," he recovered quickly, speaking with renewed haste. "Kakashi-kun can be rather scatterbrained. And our Jinchuriki requires constant supervision. While you are at it, keep an eye on Sasuke as well."

"Understood," I nodded, staring blankly.

'So I've basically been demoted to a genin. Honestly, that makes my life a hell of a lot easier.' The original Iruka, I was absolutely certain, would have rejected this highly dubious arrangement without a second thought. But me? I always figured people became teachers when they couldn't find a job they actually liked anyway.

A sudden rush of old memories washed over me. I remembered staring at a brochure listing various universities on Earth, asking my aunt:

"Auntie, did you ever want to be a teacher?"
"No."
"What did you want to be?"
"I don't remember anymore."
"What about my mom?"
Catching her annoyed look, I had quickly corrected myself. "Your sister. What did she want to be? What did she end up doing?" ...

"Iruka-kun! Iruka!"

"Forgive me, Hokage-sama. A stray memory surfaced," I reached up, my fingers automatically tracing the scar running across the bridge of my nose.

A completely foreign habit.

I left the Hokage's residence with a massive knot of mixed emotions. Since my utility was currently severely limited and I couldn't earn a standard living, I was granted a temporary government stipend. It was small, but at least it was something. They also promised a pathetic allowance for my role as an assistant instructor for Team 7, along with a measly ten percent cut of any mission payouts. Given that these were low-tier operations for green genin, the money was going to be an absolute joke. But as the Third had smoothly explained, they couldn't offer any more without robbing the genin of their earnings. Faced with that brilliant piece of political framing, I didn't bother asking why the Village couldn't just pay me a proper wage without bleeding the kids dry. It was perfectly clear.

A jonin-sensei typically received a flat rate for leadership alongside a standard cut of the missions, not to mention whatever high-level operations they ran solo while their students were off doing chores.

But what truly wrecked my peace of mind was the revelation about Iruka being ANBU. It was absurd. Though, I suppose, no more absurd than him being a Tokubetsu Jonin.

"Haah," I exhaled heavily, thoroughly exhausted. "What a joke. Everything here is a complete joke."

The statement regarding his rank had dealt a massive blow to my sanity, though the old guerrilla fighter had conveniently left out what his actual specialization was. Furthermore, it turned out Umino had actively resisted being promoted to a full, unrestricted Jonin, but the Kage had overridden him. Why? A complete mystery.

Taking a deep breath of the crisp night air, I looked up at the pitch-black sky. It sparkled with entirely unfamiliar constellations, clashing violently with the fading memories of my past life and the incredibly hazy impressions left behind by this body.

I squeezed my eyes shut as hard as I could.

'It's a dream. It has to be a bad dream. I'm going to wake up soon. I'm just in a coma, pumped full of heavy sedatives, and...'

"Iruka-sensei!"

"Naruto?" I opened my eyes. "Why aren't you home?"

"Well, you still have half a pot of borsch left, and my candy is inside!"

For some reason, the tightness in my chest eased slightly.

"Come on," I muttered, ruffling the kid's spiky hair. "And it's not borsch. It's borscht."

After demolishing half of the massive pot, Naruto began nodding off, nearly dropping his face into his spoon before finally passing out completely. I had zero intention of waking him up and dragging him across the village in the dead of night, so I made up a bed for him in the small spare room that had clearly once been a nursery. The old toys lining the shelves made that pretty obvious.

Having tucked Naruto in, I turned to leave but caught sight of a strange shape sitting on a shelf near the doorway. Driven by an inexplicable urge, I reached out and picked it up. A faded cloth dolphin with button eyes stared back at me, a deep, sudden ache blooming in my chest. It felt exactly like holding a relic from MY own dead parents.

The only difference was that my token from Earth had been made of gray plush.

"Wolfie," my lips silently formed the name of my old childhood toy.

"Iruka-sensei?" Naruto's quiet voice drifted over from the bed. "Was that your favorite toy?"

I offered a thoroughly unconvincing shrug and gently handed the dolphin over to the boy.

"Good night."

"Night," Uzumaki mumbled sleepily as the door clicked shut.

I wanted to stay up and sort through my thoughts, but the moment my head hit the pillow, I was out. A day this packed with psychological whiplash had drained me far more than I cared to admit.

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Tokubetsu Jōnin/Special jonin - Elite ninja who rank between Chunin and standard Jōnin. Instead of having all-around mastery, they possess a Jōnin-level ability in one specific field