will of fire

an affiliated rp blog for umino iruka from naruto citizen rank | teacher at alliance | k-3

[iruka-senseitional-blog1]

virassxn:

﴾ ➼ ﴿ Cyrran brushed gloved fingers against trees with each passing step, committing their path to memory. If they had to make their way backwards, he wanted to know where they were going. Better to remember what he could than just run aimlessly in one direction. That was the hope, anyway.

Glancing to Iruka as he spoke, he briefly frowned at the mention of fire before rolling his eyes lightheartedly. ❝Mm, and that would serve to draw attention to us, too,❞ he stated simply, glancing down at the bridge they walked upon. 

❝And that is the last thing we want right now.❞

But he agreed it would be best to isolate themselves once they found shelter, and as they traveled further in, the idea grew more appealing. At the speed they walked, it was not long before the dark of the forest seemed to encompass them and they arrived at a particularly desolate treehouse. Ears perked, he slipped forward, bare feet light upon the branches as he moved to its front window and peered inside. No sign of life greeted him, and instead of using the front door, he climbed right through and began to creep about.

Moments later, his head popped up at the window again, motioning for Iruka to follow.

❝We’ll stay here for now. I found some knives and survival equipment, but it is sparse. We’ll only spend the night.❞

He waits as patiently as he can in their present situation, scanning the immediate area for movement as Cyrran checks the treehouse. When the elf pops up - like a daisy, he thinks fondly - he nods once and follows him inside.

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” Iruka comments, eyeing the supplies Cyrran mentioned. The knives look easy enough to handle in a fight if necessary, and he can feel that there’s more chakra running through his system than there has been - a sign that he may have been given back his abilities for this damnable test.

He paces the small space, looking at it from a strategical standpoint and for the moment ignoring the problem that is him and Cyrran.

“A night should be fine,” he finally concludes, “this seems defensible with two people with skills like ours.” Shooting the elf a weak smile, Iruka immediately begins to test the sharpness and weight of the knives.

“Nicer view than the damn huts, too.”

[iruka-senseitional-blog1]

virassxn:

﴾ ➼ ﴿ Iruka wasn’t the only one feeling the disconnect –the divide. As difficult as it was to accept that he was there again, all the elf wanted to do was throw aside his insecurities and pull him close. Warring with himself over such emotions was not how Cyrran pictured himself surviving this new challenge.

But when was he not fighting some internal battle?

Nothing could be done until they were some place safe, and if not safe, then at least in an area they could secure. As of that moment, being in the open forest was doing them no good, and it wasn’t even in a part of Mu that he recognized. Whatever treehouses they would find would be none that the archer had explored personally. 

Sucking in slow breath, he almost didn’t register the laughter sounding from the elder. Blinking roundly, he could only imagine the deer-in-torchlight look he was making before a weak smile crossed his own face. 

At least they could still laugh.

❝We can only hope,❞ he murmured, feet barely wasting a moment in darting after Iruka and up into the tree. It took quick work to scale the trunk until the sturdy branches and pathways were reached, and once standing on a bridge, the Herald clenched his fists. ❝Skip the first few houses; the area is still too open. We’ll choose one that’s more tucked away.❞Th

The trees feel familiar, even in the unfamiliar - a blessing to wake up in a place so similar to the forests he’d scaled since he could crawl. If anything, Iruka wishes there were less bridges and structures in the trees with him to give them an advantage over the less skilled. It’s...an idea, and he nods when Cyrran speaks. 

“If we can find something sharp enough, we could try to take down the bridges around a house we like,” he suggests. “We’re both better in trees than most, and we could weed out some more potential enemies who don’t climb as well.”

A pause.

“Or we could be particularly daring and burn some literal bridges, but that comes with a greater chance of becoming barbecue ourselves.”

The humor comes surprisingly easy, given the situation, and he’s grateful for it. Banter puts off the questions he isn’t sure he wants answers to, gives them time as they search for shelter to make their own space to wait this out. 

Their only hope, Iruka thinks as he leads them deeper into the forest, is that this ends soon.

[iruka-senseitional-blog1]

virassxn:

﴾ ➼ ﴿ We have each other.

Cyrran didn’t reply at first, a seize in his chest making it near-impossible to formulate any words. They’d had each other before, true, but then the city ripped Iruka away from him. It wasn’t until that had occurred that Cyrran realized how much he’d relied on Iruka; now look where that had gotten him.

Since when had he become the type to grow dependent? Is that what it meant to love someone? He hoped not, but he had no other explanation for the heartbreak at being left alone.

It wasn’t Iruka’s fault, no matter how his reactions to his presence might make it seem. He didn’t blame him for a damn second, but he certainly blamed himself. In Thedas, he knew who he could rely on, and yet having close friends was not the same as laying himself bare to someone he loved so deeply. Once he’d lowered those walls there was no way to go back to how he’d been before.

Once space was granted, Cyrran struggled to pull himself out of his own head and looked up towards the trees. He’d climbed some of them before, and he knew there were ways to travel above ground up in those endless branches. 

With a curt nod, he tucked his feet beneath himself and stood carefully, relieved to find his head wasn’t swimming. ❝We’ll need to find things to fight with,❞ he stated, voice weary as his eyes fell to the stick Iruka carried. A touch of weak but familiar wryness entered his tone. ❝Things better than that, at least.❞

Nothing about the situation feels normal - it lacks the easy companionship that’s so normal to them, and it couldn’t be a worse time to be off-beat with each other. Unless they could find other allies of theirs, the whole mess could crashing down around them if they don’t figure out how to compartmentalize. 

The thing is, Iruka knows he doesn’t want to shove it to the side this time.

Instinct says to rip open the problem right now, claws at him to fix it fix it fix it because this is Cyrran, and each moment he doesn’t know they’re still them threatens to send him spinning. But every thing is a threat to his stability right now, from waking up suddenly in Hive City again like this to finding Cyrran, and he has no way of making any of that better right now.

All he can do, he thinks tiredly, is keep fighting. 

So he’s already preparing himself to spring into the branches when Cyrran makes a crack about the makeshift stake in his hands.

And maybe it’s not the time, but he laughs anyway.

“I’ve killed people here with sporks,” he retorts, a hint of mock indignation in his voice. “Maybe our overlords will have shown kindness and left weapons up in the treehouses, hm?”

With that, he leaps up into the closest tree, trusting Cyrran to follow.

[iruka-senseitional-blog1]

virassxn:

﴾ ➼ ﴿ When the announcement had sounded over the city, Cyrran could only feel his stomach drop with the familiar dread of no, not again. Fruitlessly he’d jumped to his bow and quiver, slinging both over his back and grip so tight on the weapon that he thought it might snap in two. Surely they couldn’t part him from it when he had it near, when it was in his hands and he could put up some sort of fight about it–

But no. He’d dropped to the ground, unconscious, and somehow he didn’t have a damn thing with him the next time he awoke.

The next time he awoke? Strange. Like being tugged out of a dream with a surprising level of softness and gentle coaxing. But that hadn’t happened in days, weeks– nothing about waking from his nightmares had been sweet in the slightest. But it was there now… a light touch to his face and a voice above him, quiet and laced with… desperation? Worry? Both, and then some. Not that it made much sense, because why would it, when the voice was painfully familiar and no, of course he’s not here.

Yet as his eyes slowly began to open, splashes of green overhead filling his vision until it could focus, Cyrran realized that he wasn’t still caught in a bittersweet dream. The hand on his cheek was still there, a callused touch he knew and loved and oh, gods, this cannot be happening.

❝Iru–❞

He cut himself off, voice hoarse, as his gaze slid from the trees to the face hovering above him. His eyes widened, body tensing and fighting the urge to leap up and away, because he knew he had nothing to fear and yet the emotions that stopped his words and choked up his throat were enough to alert his fight or flight response. The elf could feel the space behind his eyes begin to sting, and he dug his fingers into the earth out of frustration –haven’t I cried enough?– before his whole body shook. 

Now was not the time. 

Fighting delirium, he took to assessing their surroundings, the familiar forests of Mu filling his mind. He felt bare, lacking his preferred weapon, but he could tell he was still dressed in sturdy, reliable rogue armor. 

❝…a test,❞ he finally breathed out, lifting a trembling hand to his temple. Slowly, he pushed himself into a seated position, anxiously adjusting his gloves as he looked about at everything except his lover. ❝They’re testing us. Again. We have to fight, again. With nothing–❞

Green eyes finally open, and he can’t quite claim relief when he sees the intense pain in them. He hadn’t been gone just a day, then. 

It had felt like weeks back home...had it been that long for Cyrran? The idea of leaving him behind for so long presses up into this throat, until the lump feels impossible to swallow, but there’s nothing to do but force it down for the moment. Fortunate, in a way, that he’d been fighting in the war until just now; he’s more able to do it. 

Iruka hopes, anyway. How long until this situation breaks him?

“Not nothing,” he says after a delayed moment, coming back to the present. “We have each other, Cyrran,” he adds with as much firm surety as he can muster in their present circumstances. 

He falls back onto his ankles to give Cyrran space, understands on some level that even seeing him is too painful an experience right now. The space is as much for himself, really - a way to distance himself from the guilt and sorrow that want to overwhelm his ability to think. 

“The trees.”

He glances from the seemingly endless trunks above them back to the elf next to him. “If we can get to the high ground, we might at least limit the number of things that can reach us.”

[iruka-senseitional-blog1]

He wakes up in a different war.

It feels as though his hands should still be coated in the warm blood of the enemy, as though he should be in the din of the Fourth War, but instead there’s trees and plants and how am I back in Konoha? - 

The Nymphonian attempting to kill his prone body in the dense undergrowth is a jolt to his memory. Hive City. Experiment - something else. Something important? But it falls to lower priority as he assesses his situation. No weapons, no anything, up shit creek. 

“Fuck this,” Iruka mutters as he quickly makes it to his feet. He’s weaponless, but his chakra seems to work: he summons a clone to confuse his enemy and heads for the trees to find higher ground and potential weaponry. 

He’s traveled awhile, and managed little more than snapping a small branch into a sharp angle as a makeshift stake, when he catches a glimpse of white hair on the forest floor and *CyrranCyrranCyrran*. 

All thoughts of survival and strategy are abandoned as the visceral memories of the man he loves hit him as surely as any kunai to the chest. He aches with it, aches with the guilt of forgetting when he was gone, but there’s not time to wallow in it - he drops to the ground, scans the area, crouches over the person who matters most in his world.  Unconscious, but not dead, and Iruka lets out a shaky sigh of relief before reaching out an equally shaky hand to rest against his partner’s - is he his partner still? how long has he been gone? - cheek.

“Cyrran,” he pleads softly, careful not to call attention to them. “Cyrran, you need to wake up. Come back to me.”

@virassxn

[iruka-senseitional-blog1]

virassxn:

﴾ ➼ ﴿ Cyrran felt almost comically blessed by the skills of his companions, his initial anxiety dying away and being replaced by only the hyper focus of battle. Each demon had its opponent was subsequently dealt with; that left one limping Terror that had left Iruka’s side. Before the creature could phase out and join its frozen partner, the Inquisitor aimed and shot one fierce, fiery arrow, lodging it right into the demon’s screeching open mouth. 

With the peak cleared, the rift began its previous humming and vibrating, the sound loud enough to make Cyrran’s ears ring. The pressure in the air continued to build and build, and there was a moment of anticipation –the second wave would be worse.

In a burst, the rift deposited fresh hell: three Sloth demons, easy enough to dispense, but one massive Pride demon already cackling maniacally. 

❝Shit,❞ he hissed, eyes darting to quickly locate his friends. Before he could warn against the electrical damage of the Pride demon, a Sloth found its way over, clawed hands bearing down upon the elf viciously. Leaping back just in time, Cyrran only felt one claw slash his shoulder before he was out of its reach. Bow slung over his back, the Herald resorted to two short swords at his hip, unsheathing them in time to swiftly side step and spin out of the way of a renewed attack. Before the demon could turn around, two blades had gutted their way through its torso. Searing, searing, until Cyrran had yanked the swords opposite each other and sliced the creature in half.

Disgusting, satisfying work. But his concern immediately turned to rolling out of the way of the Pride demon’s electrical whip.

@iruka-senseitional > @atonings > @themagehero

By the time he’s back on his feet the worst of the demons are finished - a brief reprieve, he knows, since Cyrran warned of two waves. Spitting blood and some...weird phlegm from the demon he’d rather never consider again..onto the ground, Iruka rolls a bruised shoulder and palms another kunai as Daylen’s unnatural blizzard wanes. 

“Neat party trick, Daylen!” he calls to his friend in the tense lull. Everything about the rift’s humming sets his teeth on edge, but the mage isn’t the only one trying to lighten the mood. 

And then there’s more demons, including a very tall one that cackles, and Iruka remembers why he’d opted to be a teacher instead.

“Great,” he mutters. “No one told me the demons laughed. I feel like that should have been in the memo.”

Cyrran is injured but not down, and he has to firmly kick his protective instincts aside. One of the Sloth demons has dispersed his clone, and the ninja shudders briefly at the sensation before he grits his teeth and summons three more. They can do nothing offensively, but they circle the large demon at a healthy distance to provide distraction so the other three can work.

Just in time, too, as he rolls away from what is apparently a whip made of electricity. 

“Nobody mentioned the electricity shit either!”

But even as he complains, Iruka jumps back up onto his feet and plunges the kunai into the rotting face of one the Sloth demons and destroys it. The other Sloth will have to be Loghain’s problem, he reckons, as he turns back to face the Pride demon. 

There’s no time to consider his boyfriend or friends as Iruka runs, ducking the sizzling crackle of a pulse of electricity that makes his hair stand on end, and pretends he’s merely climbing a tree - he grabs an arm, swings himself up, and is suddenly standing top of a demon. 

“Umino Iruka,” he says to himself as plunges his last kunai into the joint between shoulder and neck, aiming to make the creature bare its weak spots for the more experience Thedosians, “you are some brand of idiotic.”

@atonings​ > @themagehero​ > @virassxn​

[iruka-senseitional-blog1]

virassxn:

﴾ ➼ ﴿ Iruka’s comment only gained him a brief glance before emerald hues were being averted once more. He knew exactly what his lover was referencing, and now was not the time to address it. Should this all go smoothly, he’d have that discussion to return home to. From gauging the other pair’s words, they were prepared for the coming fight and didn’t need any sort of fussing over them. Good. One less thing to check off the list.

With a nod to Loghain’s assurance and a weak smile cast in Daylen’s direction at the jest, Cyrran could hear the cracks and humming in the air of the nearing rift. Already three arrows were in his hand, ready to be fired as they drew ever closer. The louder it got, the brighter his hand glowed, and the Inquisitor began mentally counting down until the tell-tale burst of energy foretold the manifesting demons. As the group finally reached the peak, two Wraiths, a Rage demon, and two Terror demons each landed upon the ground.

❝Do not be caught off guard by the Terror demons– they phases in and out of the Fade!❞ he barked to his companions, notching his arrows within milliseconds to release them at the closest Terror. Ducking low to avoid the Wraiths’ ranged magic, Cyrran parted from the group to begin seeking higher ground, loosing another arrow in the process to take out the closest Wraith. The Rage and Terrors would prove to be the most deadly– naturally, the Herald hoped the former’s ability was easy enough to gather.

Don’t touch the fire. 

@iruka-senseitional > @atonings > @themagehero

“Daylen,” Iruka says in their last moments, “when we get back from this, we have got to work on your sense of humor.”

Any other snark that might have left his mouth is chased away, however, at the sight of the creatures that emerge from the green hole in the air. You’ve seen weird things, he reminds himself, your traitor of a best friend turned into a jacked up furry. This is fine.

And he isn’t scared, really - these diminutive things have nothing on Kurama - but it is entirely, completely, absurd. It’s absurd and dangerous all at once, and though he knows good and well this is hardly a laughing matter, Iruka barks a laugh as he summons a clone of himself to aid in distracting the demons away from Cyrran and Daylen.  “Well, these are some ugly bastards, aren’t they!” He almost sounds like he’s enjoying himself, and maybe he is; it’s been a long time since his life was on the line (though the scientists would helpfully glue him back together) and these clearly aren’t creatures with souls he’ll feel guilty for killing later. Instead, the ninja embraces the adrenaline and flips back as a precaution when one of the gangly things Cyrran called a Terror phases, throwing a well-aimed shuriken through one of the Wraiths and ending it. 

The Terror catches him mid-flip, but Iruka holds on for the ride and drags a kunai through its side before it manages to drop him to the ground with an angry, ear-piercing shriek. It’s alive but injured, and he’s granted a moment to catch his breath as it stalks after one of his companions. “Oof - fuck you too, ugly.” 

@atonings​ > @themagehero​ > @virassxn​

[virassxn]

﴾ ➼ ﴿ Damn it. Damn it!

So much for treating this city differently than Thedas. So much for normalcy, if such a thing ever existed. No, because that would be too easy, too simple, and nothing in any of their lives was ever plain and simple. 

Cyrran’s Marked palm clenched into a fist as he trekked up the mountainside, feeling the way the Anchor throbbed and pulsed. He vaguely wondered if it was reacting to the fact it hadn’t been active for months or that they were nearing the source of the rift. It didn’t matter one way or the other, aside from despising the sensation and keeping it close to his hip. He didn’t need eyes trained on it however unintentionally. 

He’d only meant to ask for aid from his fellow Thedosians. Daylen had no experience with rifts as far as Cyrran knew, but he knew demons, and that was enough. Loghain, too, knew the danger and accepted it. It was the elf’s own fault for thinking he could just slip off to complete this task without Iruka finding out, however, and thus the four of them set off. The terms of the challenge made Cyrran sick to his stomach, but he simply reminded himself of the dozens of rifts he had closed before being sent to the Hive. It was just another rift, another set of demons. 

Sadly, this was not even the worst he had experienced back home.

Glancing back over his shoulder at his companions, his brow furrowed the tiniest bit before he forced his features smooth again. He would only think about reaching their goal and completing it as quickly as possible. The sooner they were off this blasted mountain, the better. 

❝We are nearly there. The demons usually come in one wave, followed by a second. The rift will activate once we are within its range…❞ Trailing off, his eyes flickered down before shaking his head and looking forward again. ❝Please, just be careful.❞    

@iruka-senseitional > @atonings > @themagehero

[iruka-senseitional-blog1]

It’s been awhile since Iruka was last on terrain any rougher than the forests of Mu, and he doesn’t bother to hide a grumble as a patch of gravel slides under his foot - he stays upright, but he thinks this would be an excellent time to have full access to his chakra to aid in balancing. But where would the fun be in that for the scientists?

He listens to Cyrran with the same attentiveness he would any mission briefing, but when it’s over he snorts softly next to his lover’s side. “You’re one to talk about caution, Cyrran,” he says quietly enough so that Loghain and Daylen won’t overhear. Iruka hasn’t decided if he’s angry at Cyrran for trying to leave him behind - strong emotions don’t belong in this situation, and he can wait to think it over after they survive this...rift thing. Rift thing complete with what sounds like some ugly fuckers. 

The green light in what Cyrran calls the Anchor flares brightly, and Iruka spares it a mildly worried look before tucking that aside as well. 

“We’ll be fine.”

@atonings > @themagehero > @virassxn

[iruka-senseitional-blog1]

virassxn:

﴾ ➼ ﴿ ❝Hm! That is an interesting thought to consider,❞ Cyrran stated loftily, pretending to inspect his wine closely before grinning and taking a sip. Definitely not the former, so he had to commend his friends for their tastes! But at Iruka’s continued teasing, he merely snorted and waved him off.❝I may not have the best tolerance, but I know my limits… mostly.❞ At that, he flashed a cheekily grin before humming around another drink.    

Setting his glass down, the elf began poking through the different dishes and preparing himself a plate, pausing at the elder’s suggestion. He then glanced between the gifts both in the bag he’d brought and those stacked to the side, a brow quirked before he broke out into a faint smile. ❝As long as you don’t mind,❞ he confirmed, putting his plate on the ground carefully. The Herald reached for his bag, glancing inside and biting back a bigger smile. ❝I want you to open yours, too, after all.❞      

“Mostly,” Iruka says dryly. “I seem to recall a time or two when Daylen had to deposit you on my doorstep. Or was it three times? I’ve lost the count.” He knows Cyrran better than that, though; neither of them intends to overindulge tonight.

He eyes the plate as the elf puts it down, looking over the dishes as they come out of their pans and checking that they look right. Silently, he’s relieved; Iruka’s been cooking for himself for most of his life, but he’s never fully developed confidence in his skill at it. And that was before he started cooking food from an entirely different culture as well  — the fact that it all looks edible makes it easier to enjoy the night.

But Cyrran’s opted to open presents now, and Iruka slowly grins. “Honestly, I’d rather do them now,” he laughs. “I’ve been trying my damnedest not to guess what you might have gotten for me, and I’m having trouble not doing it now. I’d like to be surprised.”

Not to mention, he’s desperately hoping that his partner likes the gift he’s bought for him, and he wouldn’t mind having that weight off his mind too. 

[iruka-senseitional-blog1]

virassxn:

﴾ ➼ ﴿ ❝None at all, because living in perpetual suspicion of your lover is not fun for either of us!❞ Cyrran wagged a scolding finger before offering a playful wink, finally working the cork off the bottle and motioning for Iruka to hold up one glass. He was more than aware of how often he got his way, and while it was amusing in terms of more frivolous things, he was simply relieved that it did not happen all the time. He’d never expect it to.   

❝I could list on both hands why they would enjoy it!❞ he insisted, mockingly scandalized by the insinuation. Not a moment later his expression smoothed back into pleasantry, beginning to pour the wine into each glass held up to him. ❝The club has quite a few brands that I’ve had to familiarize myself with, but this one… I have not heard of, admittedly.❞ Which makes it a better gift, in his opinion, considering he wasn’t picky about wine in the first place. Oh, he had his preferences, of course! But… what point was there in being snobbish about it?

Wrinkling his nose, Cyrran replaced the old cork with a reusable rubber stopper and set the bottle aside once the glasses were filled. ❝Oh, right, those things,❞ he hummed innocently, jokingly casting his eyes elsewhere for dramatic effect. Soon he was chuckling, too, and he lifted his glass to his lips as he began surveying the food. ❝You are horrible to further my anticipation like that, fenor.❞

Iruka chuckles when Cyrran when admits to not recognizing the wine. “So either it’s horrendously cheap, or Loghain and Gaster have more upscale tastes than I previously thought.” He leans towards the second choice; from what he knows of them, they hardly seem the sort to slight friends with cheap gifts. “I’ll make sure to send them a fruit basket as thanks. It’ll say: I really appreciate the wine you gave Cyrran, he drank enough of it that I had to carry him babbling all the way home,” he teases. 

As Cyrran jokes about the gifts, Iruka laughs and takes a sip of his own wine. It doesn’t taste like horse piss, which is about his only quality standard for alcohol, and he takes another before replying: “We could always open gifts now, rather than after dinner, if the anticipation is getting to you that badly. I’d hate for you to be distracted to enjoy the food.”

[iruka-senseitional-blog1]

virassxn: 

﴾ ➼ ﴿ ❝Except they won’t stop paying me, because the patrons love me,❞ laughed the elf in return. It was not even entirely a joke; many of his guests were happy to talk to him about nothing of real importance as long as it was lively. Iruka could jest, but it sometimes felt as if he was the one doing the dancing instead of the reverse. Ah, well… It was nothing compared to the politicking of Thedas that he had to endure. He would take a lonely customer over an irate Orlesian nobleman.

But he was not here to think about such things and he took a subtle breath once he was settled before a smile found itself back onto his face. He had been looking forward to this evening for some time, and while his mind often betrayed him when it came to fixating on the past, he would refuse that tonight. A little self control could go a long way when he was determined for their enjoyment. 

Because, really, even if Iruka had prepared this himself, it was as much for him as it was for Cyrran. The Herald simply hoped he knew that… ❝You are so suspicious of me!❞ he cried jokingly, pressing a hand to his cheek woefully. ❝I’ll have you know they also love my company– besides, it was not a one-way street.❞ He had provided them both with gifts, too, and luckily they had been well-received. 

As he took the bottle back into his hands and began working off the cork, Cyrran glanced at Iruka in time to catch the eyeroll before snickering.

❝Always so sarcastic to me, I cannot believe I put up with such treatment.❞ Complain as he did, the fondness of his tone spoke volumes as to how he truly felt. And truth be told, he was indeed rather anxious to give Iruka the gifts he had prepared.

“Yes, and I have no reason at all to be suspicious of you,” Iruka teases; he’d been on the receiving end of that cunning intellect more than once, and even with his own wit he’d often found himself doing something Cyrran wanted without thinking about it. Not that he truly minded  — they were good at finding a balance and compromise on the things that mattered to them. 

“Still, even if I can’t imagine why they’d enjoy your company, I’m more than happy to drink their wine.” Leaning over further on one arm, he eyes the label curiously while the elf works to get the cork out of the bottle. Truthfully, he has little knowledge of what constitutes good wine after a lifetime of beer and cheap sake. The bottle in Cyrran’s hands could be little more than vinegar and he probably wouldn’t notice, but he keeps this little bit to himself. Let Cyrran enjoy his wine without feeling obligated to explain it.

With a loud laugh, Iruka pushes himself to sit back up and help with the glasses. “Because I bring you coffee and breakfast in the morning, cook dinner half the time, and bring you flowers every other weekend?” Stabilizing the glasses so they wouldn’t tip over when Cyrran poured, he adds: “And because of the fantastic gifts I brought for you.”

[iruka-senseitional-blog1]

“And don’t come back, you little miscreants!”

Iruka emerges from the shadows of the Sector 05 orphanage behind a scattering group of teenagers; he’d been leaving at the end of his shift for the day when he caught them attempting to vandalize the walls.

Having left them with ringing ears from his shouted lecture, the chuunin-sensei feels little urge to go chasing after them to turn them over to the police; his temper is often lesson enough. Besides, it’s been a long enough day without having to chase children before he can head home.

Unfortunately, in all his irate bluster he’s failed to properly notice his surroundings, and as he swings his messenger bag back onto his shoulder he manages to hit an innocent passerby with it.

“Shit  — “ wait, no, this stranger is seemingly a teenager himself, and his teacher’s etiquette kicks in “ — er...I mean, sorry.  I didn’t see you there. Are you alright?”

@skyblueseiker

[iruka-senseitional-blog1]

tolditslant:

Wolfwood hadn’t been sure whether or not he should step in, but the other man quickly decided that for him: he kicked complete ass. Faster than it took to smoke up a cigarette. 

When he’s addressed, the priest whistles, impressed.

“Not lurking, just watching the show. That was pretty good, by the way.” 

He’s a little surprised he killed them, though. That isn’t too typical of this place and the thugs that plague it.

Iruka snorts at the response as he begins diligently cleaning the kunai on his shirt; a merciful thing that it’s black and hides bloodstains so well, or he’d run the risk of Cyrran spotting it and immediately assuming it was his own. “I don’t know that I’d call killing a show, but thank you, I suppose.” It’s been a long time since he was complimented for his fighting ability  — Konoha’s bred much stronger and flashier shinobi than him, after all  — and he has to swallow down the instinctive guilt that tries to surface when he realizes he doesn’t mind such praise. 

Doing his best to brush aside the latent compassionate streak that makes him a liability in the field, Iruka pockets one of the knives and pushes over the corpses with his foot to better see their faces. Not anyone he recognizes from previous attempted ambushes.

Twirling the remaining blade in his hand with feigned absent-mindedness  — he has no reason to trust this stranger, and it’s easier to fight someone who thinks they’re catching you off-guard  — Iruka decides to speak again. “Are you in the habit of watching fights, then?”

[iruka-senseitional-blog1]

themagehero:

What is it with his friends and doing weird things to his mansion? First Cyrran had decided to just break in. Now as the mage arrived, a ninja is sitting on the rooftop. How long had they been waiting there? For all they knew he might not be back for a while.

A sudden voice from above startles him. Daylen manages to regain his composure upon seeing who it is. Even if this just raises more questions.

“Iruka, get down from there. Please tell me you haven’t been waiting for a while. I have a phone you know? You could’ve just called me.” He isn’t going to acknowledge being called ‘robes’.

Predictably, Daylen is unamused with Iruka’s presence on his roof; it’s briefly tempting to stay there just to push the mage’s buttons, but he comes armed with a staff and spells that could kill or maim him in a thousand unpleasant ways. Self-preservation wins the day, and Iruka gracefully drops back down to the ground without making a sound.

At least Hive City hasn’t yet managed to wear down all of his training.

“Mm, but calling you would have given away the surprise of my charming company.” He’s teasing now; the ninja is fully aware he’s, in fact, being obnoxious. There’s more room for such antics in a world where he doesn’t go to bed with the weight of a dozen child soldiers he’s personally training to murder and die on his conscience. 

“Anyway, I was only up there for fifteen minutes or so. You might consider better security for this place; no one questioned the strange jackass lurking on roof.”

[iruka-senseitional-blog1]

send me a symbol

웃: what my muse would leave to people in their will

♛: the pettiest thing my muse has ever done

★: five things most people don't know about my muse

☄: the last five Googles searches my muse made

✉: the last five text messages my muse sent

☢: how would my muse fare in a zombie apocalypse?

☣: how would my muse fare in the hunger games?

☠: how my muse would choose to die, if it were up to them

♂: three names my muse might name their son

♀: three names my muse might name their daughter

♫: my muse's five favorite songs

☤: the last time my muse went to the hospital and why

▽: the first job my muse ever had

☃: what my muse does when it snows

☎: the last person my muse made a phone call to and why

♠: the riskiest thing my muse has ever done

➹: what my muse would do on their 21st birthday if they had all the money in the world

☞: five things my muse is good at

☜: five things my muse sucks at

✄: what my muse would say to the mun if they had the opportunity

[sidestuiff]

Tell me what you think about my portrayal!

[iruka-senseitional-blog1]

❝ Could you imagine if you unlocked outfits in real life? Like, “Congratulations you wiped your ass, here’s a new shirt.” ❞ cyrran discovering the wonders of gaming

game grumps meme | accepting

Iruka glances up from the book he’s reading in bed and then at the time. 2:04 AM. 

Sighing in bemusement, the ninja marks his place with an old receipt and looks over at the elf currently clicking away at some game on their computer. “Cyrran-kun, I think it’s time for you to come to bed.”