My Name is Sarah, and I'm from upstate New York (USA). This is a multi-fandom blog that follows my current obsessions. I also link to my writing from here. If you see Cyhyr on the internets, it's probably me. Feel free to say hi! I'm terrified of starting conversations, but I love to chat! Posts are typically queued, but I don't tag them as such. If you need something tagged so you can blacklist it for any reason, feel free to let me know.
"You could get up early and do it before work" I could also wait for a magic beanstalk to start growing in my living room LMAO. Let's focus on things that happen in the real world
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply; electrocution; whipping; drowning; burning; threats made to minor family members
Notes: Torture fic. It's not terribly graphic, which is why the GDV warning is missing.
A/N: Double Post today because yesterday was garbage and I was tired. Why does Kakashi show up to bring him home? Because I wanted him to.
A/N 2: Inspo for this piece comes from this prompt from @whumpster-dumpster.
~
“Umino Iruka, chūnin, registration number 011850.”
“Boss, he hasn’t said anything different in hours—”
“Keep at him,” the woman in charge hisses. “He’ll break eventually.”
Iruka glares at her, daring them to do their worst. He’s a Konoha shinobi—the village secrets he holds will not pass his lips willingly. And these thugs aren’t ninja; they have no way to coerce him.
From his place knelt on the ground, he’s unable to fight back as the taser rod is pressed against his side again. He can't initially scream for the electricity coursing through him, but when it stops he sags forward and lets his pain echo in the cave they're holding him in. They shock him twice more before the woman calls a pause.
The man with blond hair kicks his leg a bit. “Tell us about the Hokage,” he demands.
Iruka takes heaving breaths, shaking in his bonds with residual shocks. “Umino Iruka,” he says, “chūnin, registration number 011850.”
The pack of bandits all turn to their boss, who sneers and says, “Keep going.”
~
Iruka had been on a mission with two other chūnin when the smoke bombs fell. They’d quickly find themselves outnumbered and surrounded, their opponents armed with shock batons and flamethrowers, katanas inexpertly held in a few hands.
Kenji had been overconfident and assessed that the group would be easily dispatched. Kenji had died from his overconfidence, a katana in his belly and three shock batons cooking his organs inside his skin.
Iruka didn’t let his other teammate take such a dumb risk. He pulled the one and only barrier tag he’d perfected and made for this mission from his pouch and stuck it on Tsuki’s sleeve, and then activated it. He told her to run, that he’d hold them off; she had the mission scroll and had to deliver its contents to Sandaime-sama. She’d hesitated at first, but honored his order, even though he wasn’t the captain.
Kenji had been captain.
He’d kept them occupied for long enough for Tsuki to get away, and then they brought him down. He was so sure he was going to go the same way Kenji did, but one of the bandits recognized him.
“He’s the Hokage’s pet,” he had said.
Iruka, stupidly, didn’t deny it. It had stopped the batons. He wanted to live.
“We can make him talk,” the goon had continued. “I’ll bet he knows all kinds of secrets about Konoha we can sell.”
~
The days pass and the group becomes more desperate to extract information. They turn to their horse whips, pulling his arms taut between the two walls of the cave and ripping into his back. Iruka is sure his screams could be heard all over the Land of Fire; at least, until one of the bandits tires of hearing him and stuffs the knot of his hitai-ate into his mouth, the protective plate chilly against the back of his neck.
Still, when they stop and ask him for information, when they pull the sobbed-on, soaked makeshift gag out from between his teeth, Iruka responds only, “Umino Iruka, chūnin, registration number 011850.”
They then try drowning him—well, almost drowning. They yank his head out of the bucket of water before he can, most of the time. He thrashes in their arms and struggles to pull in air before they plunge him under again, and sometimes he’s put back underwater while he’s still breathing in and he… well, they’re nice enough to resuscitate him the two times his lungs fill with so much water and he stops breathing.
But they keep asking him for information, and it sounds more and more like they’re getting desperate. Still, he repeats, “Umino Iruka, chūnin, registration number 011850.”
The woman becomes restless. She orders them to “step it up.”
Iruka, honestly, is terrified of what else they’ll do. They tie his arms out to his sides again, and he’s made to watch as the kunai they’d relieved from his person are placed in the coals of their fire until the metal is red-hot. While he’s watching, they set another loop around his neck and attach it to the cave’s ceiling somehow; he’s not paying that much attention, transfixed as he is by the heated metal meters away from his knees. They tie his thighs to his calves and soon after that he finds that he can’t move at all—and even if he tries, the noose will tighten to the point of choking him.
After that, the woman herself dons thick, metal-working gloves and lifts a kunai out of the fire.
“Tell me about the Hokage.”
“Umino Iruka, chūnin, registration number 011850,” he says instead. He says it before he can register that it was the wrong answer, that he was going to get hurt from that answer. But he’ll never take it back.
If he makes it through this, he swears he’ll look back on this with pride, knowing that he didn’t tell these people a damn thing.
She presses the kunai to his arm.
And Iruka screams.
~
Six days with these people, six days with the barest amount of food and water, no breaks to relieve himself, just enough medical attention to keep him alive; Iruka knows he’s starting to break. He has to find a way to have them slip up and kill him before he lets loose information he doesn’t mean to.
During their midday break, a bat flies into the cave and settles on the woman’s head. She reaches up, cooing at it, and feeds it bites of her fruit off her plate. Her grin turns manic and sadistic as she stares at Iruka.
Today, he’s tied up on his stomach, his legs pulled back and his arms stretched towards his ankles. It’s hell on his shoulders, but with the ropes holding him in place he can at least try to relax into the position. They’ve gagged him again, for no other reason than to humiliate him he supposes—he won’t say anything other than the five words and series of numbers he’s been saying, so it’s not like he talks too much.
The woman rises and the bat flies off again. She crosses the cave to stand in front of him. He has to crane his neck to look up at her, and then thanks every god he can think of that she’s not wearing a skirt because he doesn’t need to see that thank you very much.
“We’ve been going about this all wrong, haven’t we,” she says. She kicks him in the side and smirks. “Konoha shinobi are loyal to the end, huh?”
A rhetorical question. Iruka glares.
“Loyal to your Hokage, to your village, to your teammates.” She slips the gag down and out of his mouth with her foot, scraping the toe of her boot against his cheek painfully. “Loyal to your family, huh?”
Family? Iruka schools his face so he doesn’t betray his initial confusion, but only a second’s thought has him realizing what he’d said before he left on this mission.
“Naruto-kun, if you get lonely, you can always come over and sleep at mine; even if I’m not there. Actually, if you could stop by every so often and water my plants, that’d be great!”
“Yeah! Of course I can, Iru-nii! Thanks, you have no idea—”
“I have every idea. Stay as much as you like; I’ll be back soon, okay?”
Oh, gods.
“Now, is that blond kid your son, or your little brother? You seem too young yourself to have a kid his age, but what do I know about it all; he could be adopted! What I do know is that we’ve seen him at the park alone with his friends, alone at a restaurant stall, and alone, sleeping, every night since you’ve become our captive, in the very apartment registered to one Umino Iruka, 011850.”
Iruka bites back his threat. He wants so desperately to tell her to shove off, to leave Naruto out of this, to-to… But if he betrays anything, shows any emotion at all here, then she’ll know she has leverage and Naruto could get hurt.
“All I need,” she sing-songs, “is one secret. One little thing; guard shifts, the Hokage’s favorite tea, anything. And your boy stays unharmed. Deal?”
Iruka knows that he's not the only one who keeps an eye on Naruto—many of the jōnin and ANBU, especially the one with the Hound mask, keep tabs on him. He’ll be okay. He has to be okay.
“Umino Iruka, chūnin, registration number 011850.”
She kicks him in the temple and he blacks out.
~
Iruka should care that by staying silent he’s keeping Konoha’s jinchūriki safe. But that’s not why, after two days of no food and few sips of water, he still won’t talk. They made it personal when they brought Naruto into the equation. Iruka took Naruto in off the streets, hungry and cold and angry, and fed and clothed him with his own meagre genin earnings. The love didn’t develop for weeks, but once the fire started in Iruka’s heart it blazed.
He can’t officially adopt Naruto. He’s already asked Sandaime-sama.
Instead, Naruto calls him “Iru-nii” and stays over most nights in the spare room of Iruka’s apartment. Sometimes Naruto doesn’t go home for weeks. Iruka doesn’t care—as far as he’s concerned, the “spare” room is Naruto’s.
The bat comes back at dawn on the third day, carrying something in its little paws. Iruka’s so hungry he can’t focus his eyes and can barely stay upright on his knees. She has to slap him three times before Iruka can concentrate on the new taunt she has planned.
And then he sees the goggles dangling from her fingertips.
He knows his face betrayed him and showed her his horror, because she then grins all teeth and thin, red lips.
“My bats were able to get this close to him just last night; they brought us a present, isn’t that nice? From what they tell me, he sounds like a sweet kid—loud, rambunctious, but sweet all the same.” She swings the goggles back and forth in front of his face like a metronome. “One. Last. Chance. Give me something; a secret, any secret. And I won’t have to bring your boy here and hurt him in front of you. I do hate hurting children.”
She’ll do it. She’ll infiltrate Konoha, find Naruto, tell him she knows where Iruka is and poor Naruto will go with her willingly to find him he’s been missing for long enough they have to have sent a search party Sandaime-sama would send a search party for him wouldn’t he and Naruto oh Naruto—
Iruka fights back tears welling up behind his eyes. His little brother, his son in everything but name. He’ll be taken care of—no one in village leadership will let Naruto get hurt.
Hound-san, he thinks, please be there for him, in my stead.
His voice is cracked and shaky as he repeats, for what he’s sure is the last time: “Umino Iruka, chūnin, registration number 011850.”
~
They pack up later that day, leaving him tied with his arms outstretched. They don’t bother with his legs or his neck, and he doesn’t fight; can’t fight, really. He’s so hungry, thirsty, pained—he knows he’s in no shape to fight.
The last of them leave his sight, and then the daylight from the mouth of the cave becomes the only changing thing he can watch. The silence is deafening, so Iruka begins clicking his tongue just to be able to hear something other than his heartbeat.
He passes in and out over what he assumes is the next day. He doesn’t have much time left, what with the level of dehydration they left him with. His eyes and mouth are dry, and he’s had a steady nosebleed for about an hour.
He wakes to someone shaking him, calling him. “Umino!” His arms are released and he's braced upright against someone, they keep tapping his cheek and telling him to wake up.
"Umino Iruka," is the first thing he says, his voice scratchy and slurring. “Chūnin, registration number 01—”
The man doesn’t let him finish. There’s already a canteen at his lips, tipping slowly upwards, and cool fresh water slides down his throat and it’s heaven. He drinks at it greedily and whines when it’s pulled away.
“Not too much,” the man says, “or you’ll just throw it up in a bit. How long were you here?”
That’s when Iruka finally gets a good look at his savior and sees an ANBU mask—Konoha, Hound. He falters, hesitates. What’s he doing here?
“I have to assume at least two days,” Hound says, “but judging by when your team was supposed to return, I’m guessing it was longer.”
Iruka stays silent. He doesn’t actually know the answer. He can’t remember. He reaches for the canteen again and is given it to sip at.
“Umino, how long did they have you? We need to know what secrets they may have extracted; no one would blame you for breaking—”
“I didn’t tell them anything,” Iruka says. “Standard procedure is to revert to name, rank, and registration number in times of information extraction, so long as no other shinobi allies are in the immediate line of fire,” he knows he sounds like a toad, being so parched, but he’s insulted that being a chūnin is enough to excuse him from exposing the village’s secrets under torture.
Hound seems... Well, affected seems like the best word, but Iruka can’t tell if it's a good thing or not. He continues on, “They threatened Naruto. Is he okay?”
Hound settles him with a simple nod and another offer of his canteen. “It’s how we found you in the first place. Uzumaki-kun noticed he was being followed and caught the pursuers in a trap, then alerted ANBU. T&I was quick to rip into their minds and find out their motives for going after the jinchūriki, but they quickly realized that going after Uzumaki-kun was only to make you talk.”
“They didn’t realize he was...?”
“No. And you really didn’t tell them anything?”
Iruka sighs. “I said nothing. Have a Yamanaka check me if—”
“I believe you,” Hound says. “It’s just, I’m impressed. I wonder if I can get my ANBU team to get pointers from you sometime.”
“Isn’t there an ANBU clause that gives you honorable right to commit suicide should capture be inevitable?”
“I’d rather have my team alive at the end of the day, and have the Counsel have to deal with the village's secrets and security. At any rate,” Hound continues, “let’s get you home. I’m sure N—Uzumaki-kun will be overjoyed to see you.”
Iruka accepts a change of clothes from Hound from a scroll, and together they leave the cave for good.
izuku and katsuki genuinely don't realise how domestic they are with each other until people start pointing it out. they think their dynamic is normal; they're best friends who live together, they cook meals together sometimes and bring each other coffee when they have lunch breaks or when one has gone out, they get groceries together, play video games, and sometimes they share a bed because the other has had bad nightmares and can only think to hold the other person, and sometimes katsuki wordlessly hands things to izuku that he clearly needs without the other asking for it, or he folds his laundry for him, and sometimes izuku leans his head on katsuki's shoulder when he's tired during movie night, it's not weird, none of it's weird to them, it's been that way since after they graduated from UA. but the others notice the soft gazes katsuki gives to izuku when he isn't looking, and it's strange because he's never looked at anyone like that before except his best friend. and there's a little sparkle in izuku's eyes when katsuki makes him laugh, because katsuki isn't known to be funny but izuku always laughs at his jokes or his grumpy attitude and he just looks so happy around him. everyone notices but them,,,until they both get told and they have to awkwardly tip toe around each other until one of them breaks the tension and after that, they're inseparable again
As a teacher, the suit couldn't really have come at a better time.
When he'd graduated from college, he'd been surprised to see Principal Nezu in the crowd with All Might and Aizawa-sensei, and even more surprised to receive Principal Nezu's invitation to teach at UA - in the hero course no less!
They'd assigned him to the 2nd year hero course -- the 1st years, who were often still figuring out the limits of their quirks, needed teachers who might be able to physically intervene if something went wrong
His first year teaching, he'd spent just trying to get his feet under him: he borrowed a lot of the previous teacher's curriculum while he tried to get the hang of classroom management, and and grading, and parent contact, not to mention conducting practical exercises with his students while he was quirkless
But his second year he started making the curriculum his own: his strength had always been his analysis and he wanted his students to have that, too.
He started adding in case studies for each unit; invited his friends in to give talks about declassified or appropriately anonymized cases they'd worked on
By his third year, he'd gotten his unit plans down to a science: intro topic, host guest speaker, complete case study, hold class discussion, conduct practical exercise, students submit a reflection, test
His first unit of the year was always his favorite -- an intro to battle analysis. He'd never gotten Kacchan to commit to coming on campus, but if Deku sent him footage from a fight, Kacchan would send back a recording of his analysis
Once the kids got over the initial hilarity of Kacchan roasting the shit out of hero or villain or both, they usually asked Deku to play the video back a few more times so they could see just which errors Kacchan had caught, how quickly they could arise, how consequential they could be. It was a great way to get them open to Deku's whole approach to the class, and a good way for them to know that he would accept their work in their own voices -- no need to hide their personalities for points
The rest of the units -- meant to get his students ready to apply for their provisional licenses -- all followed suit.
And since most hero agencies had given new priority to community relations, he could schedule through his friends' offices to get them on campus: Tenya, Uraraka, Tsu, Momo, Shinso were especially reliable guests
And while the first half of the year was dedicated to the practicalities of being on the ground as a hero; the second half was dedicated to the heart of being a hero
They looked at rise of the League of Villains and Stain, talked about the plight of heteromorphs; he pulled in primary sources, they discussed their own personal credos (he liked to use Kacchan's and Hawks' as examples of how different and personal they could be while still leading to similar work), discussed the sociological and psychological impact of challenging quirks
All that to say, year four is the perfect time for the suit to fall into his lap.
He's got his professional shit together
And, though he's let himself shed some of the weight he needed to maintain One For All, he's kept himself in good condition
(High school students are so easily motivated by a little good natured teasing, "you really gonna let your quirkless teacher lap you?" has been a remarkably easy way to keep his kids going through tough conditioning work)
So, after he's managed to stop crying on All Might long enough to schedule a call with Hatsume to go over the specs; and stopped crying after that call long enough to process everything she's shared about its function, he realizes he's going to need to train before he can take this thing out in the field
The suit is incredible: a light exoskeleton that'll enhance his strength, 360 degree sensors that will pick up objects moving at certain speeds or sudden changes in air pressure, a light propulsion system that will allow him brief bursts of flight or slightly longer periods to hover, a chord system that he can use to pull himself forward or restrain villains, a diffuser that will set off a smoke screen
He spends another hour or so after the call with Hatsume to cry about how closely they've tried to recreate the capabilities of One For All
And then spends another four thinking about all of the manual controls he'll need to learn to replicate the skills he used to be able to call forth with a thought.
Thinks too about the kind of conditioning he'll need to do in order to not lose speed or an arm to the weight and propulsion of the suit
He remembers fondly a dirty beach half a lifetime ago; remembers, too, a forest trail where a quirkless All Might declared he'd change the future. Deku can do this.
And there's no better way to address the Kacchan of it all:
He'd tried calling Kacchan after All Might had dropped the news -- and been sent straight to voicemail three times in a row; received back a terse text: u r welcome nerd
Which told him Kacchan wasn't ready to deal -- with Deku's tears, or his gratitude, or with a conversation about how Kacchan had dedicated all of his professional career to funding Deku's dream -- as if all the long hours, and parties missed, and extra shifts covered, hadn't all been some sort of declaration of intent about the rest of their fucking lives
Which was fine. What was Deku going to say anyway?
"Was this a proposal, Kacchan? Because if so, my answer is yes."
That could wait. They had the rest of their fucking lives, apparently.
But in the meantime, Deku needed to train. He couldn't afford to rush this. Kacchan would be furious if Deku got himself hurt because he was being reckless.
So he headed over to the gym in Kacchan's building after work, just in time to catch Kacchan coming in for his biweekly workout.
"I've got a plan. I think I'm going to need to dedicate some attention to these particular muscle groups to protect from injury. I think I probably need to gain a little more muscle, too. Then, I want to start training in the suit. I'll need to get a feel for how it works as a whole in combat and rescue settings. But then I want to work on isolations. Can I trigger just this response as quickly as possible in various circumstances. What can I do or not if I've just got control of the arms or just the legs or just one limb. I've put together a timetable. I think, if you'll help me, I could be ready for field work without injuring myself by the end of this school year."
When Deku finally pauses and looks up from his notebook, Kacchan looks visibly relieved, shoulders down from his ears, that gleam in his eye that's signals amusement in spite of himself, the start of smile tucked into the corner of his mouth
Kacchan snatches the notebook from Deku's hands and looks over the charts. Deku barely grumbles at all at Kacchan's free hand tousling Deku's hair while he skims.
There's just something about how Izuku stayed persistently hopeful in his dream of being a hero even with Katsuki telling him that he could never be a hero, and then Izuku finally gave up on his dream after letting go of the embers of One For All, but Katsuki persistently kept the last spark of his dream alive so that he could give it back to him 8 years later.
