they’ve come for naruto, two men in black and red. he’s already sent the boy off and running, letting him slip out the back window and giving him firm instructions to head straight for the hokage’s tower. and iruka can take solace in the fact that, while he’ll most assuredly meet his end here, neither naruto or lu ten will be hurt by the akatsuki. not tonight, at least. besides, he’s determined to go down swinging, if only to hold them off from chasing after naruto. he wastes no time before lunging at the man in front ( the one not armed with a giant club ). the element of surprise is all he has to give him an advantage against these shinobi who’s skills far surpass his own, so he’ll make use of his speed, his fearlessness in combat. he’s wielding a kunai, charging, hoping he’ll be able to land just one hit before either of them gut him.
but it’s not the slash of a weapon that brings iruka’s movements to a halt; it’s a hand and two piercing red eyes. the man’s sudden grip on his wrist is more surprising than it is strong, and the shock of it, the confusion of how he could have moved faster than his eye could track, has iruka flicking his gaze up to his opponent’s face. it’s then, face to face with the sharingan, that he realizes who this particular akatsuki is. all he has time to say before he’s pulled under the influence of the genjutsu is “uchiha.”
every inch of his body hurts and each blow is delivered by lu ten’s own hand. it’s not really him, iruka reminds himself, over and over again. he needs reminding, as the hours and days stretch ahead of him and usher in doubts. the copy is immaculate; it captures lu ten’s posture, the tilt of his head when he speaks, the lilt in his voice, all of it perfectly. and that voice is so intimately familiar it makes iruka’s chest ache, though his words- they’re things he can’t ever imagine his lu ten saying. but he doesn’t have to imagine, does he? he can hear every insult, every callous remark in lu ten’s own voice. repeated, again and again and again.
iruka can feel that he’s beginning to lose his grip on reality, that he’s slipping into his own self-doubt and anxiety, the longer he endures torture at his lovers hands. he can feel it so clearly, but he’s powerless to stop it, just as he’s powerless to convince himself fully that this isn’t lu ten who stands before him, who wields a weapon against him with such ease. iruka has begun to speak to him, losing his resolve to suffer in silence after far too long, and it’s instantly so much worse. there’s no stopping the words once he starts, and what was once argumentative is soon enough reduced to begging. begging like this really is his partner, asking for it all to stop. please, stop. it hurts so much. please. i thought you loved me. i thought you’d protect me.
he begs until his voice finally gives out.
iruka comes to, on the floor of his apartment, arms in front to brace himself. he struggles to catch his breath, to regain control of his mind that is reeling. he’s afraid. he’s disoriented, but most of all, he’s still got his guard up. the akatsuki are gone, and there are clear signs of a very recent fight. but iruka doesn’t trust that he’s out of danger just yet. especially not when his eyes fall on the man hovering over him, weapon slick with blood ( is that his blood? is that what he used to hurt him? ). lu ten’s eyes are concerned, but iruka won’t be so easily fooled.
“Iruka.” lu ten’s voice makes him flinch, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the other, who crouches down to get closer to him. he feels that rising panic once again as he regards the other with wide, wild eyes. in such close proximity, he remembers the way his pleas fell on deaf ears, how his lover turned his own blade against him. iruka backs away, pushing himself with shaking arms, pathetic and exhausted after such an ordeal. but he’ll push through it, the pounding in his head, the fuzziness that creeps in at the edges of his vision. he’s nothing if not a survivor. “Iruka, say something.” he doesn’t intend to respond ( doesn’t think he can, frankly ) but when lu ten reaches a hand out towards him, the words are ripped from this throat.
“don’t touch me.” iruka’s voice is unkind, fearful, as he regards lu ten with cold terror. chest heaves in precious air that feels as if it’s in short supply, willing himself to stay conscious, stay alive. he can’t imagine what this man will do to him if he can’t.
iruka, to his Boyfriend™️ who is a certifiably better ninja than he is, absolutely no contest: no but i’ll protect you with my Fucking Life. I’ll do it. absolutely I can do it, no sweat. I’ll die if I have to, I don’t care, I’ll-
it’s early morning and the two men lay tangled up in each other’s arms. iruka watches lu ten where he’s fit against him, head resting on his chest, somewhere between sleeping and waking. he drifts in and out himself, at times absently playing with the other’s hair, or else he’s resting his eyes and letting dreams come to him once again. this is precious quiet time before they both get up to start their busy days ( busy lives, they both have, independent of one another, yet tethered ) and iruka cherishes it. every slow rise and fall of lu ten’s chest, every moment they have to simply exist, side by side, perpetually in contact.
in the hazy morning light, it all feels like some far off dream from his boyhood. sharing a bed, sharing a life, with the man he’s loved all these years. but lu ten’s voice, rough with sleep, keeps him grounded. and what’s my heart saying, darling? can you feel that?
“I can feel yours too, love.” a kiss is pressed into lu ten’s hair before iruka lets sleep overcome him once again, listening to the gentle thud of his lover’s heartbeat.
the way that lu ten says it, all wide-eyed with false innocence, iruka knows it’s bait. lu ten is an incredibly skilled fighter with any weapon he gets his hands on, and it’s surely no different with a kunai, unfamiliar as the blade may be. but, if the other has made such an effort simply for an excuse to be close to iruka ( though they don’t exactly need to make excuses to share in gentle touches and shows of affection these days ), he feels obligated to play along. just this once. “here, let me show you.”
steady hands adjust the ( undoubtably purposeful ) too-loose grip that lu ten uses, carefully guiding his hands into the correct position for throwing the little knife. “like this, see?” iruka continues, moving himself so that he stands just behind lu ten, his chest pressed firmly against the other’s back. he brings lu ten’s hands upwards, gentle but firm in his control of the other’s movements, at once demonstrating his own skills with the kunai like he’s been asked to, and teasing his partner. speaking his instructions into his ear, moving with a little more strength than he’d normally use, to watch his reaction.
“and to throw it-” iruka moves lu ten’s hands with his own, in one quick and powerful flick, sending the blade flying towards the target. his throw is as precise as always, and he smiles, dropping lu ten’s hands, but not yet moving away. this is what he wanted. “there. just like that. do you think you’ve got it? or do you need me to do it again?” a triumphant smile, and not because he thinks he’s been a particularly good teacher.
danny your iruka is pure gold. i love him and you for writing him and loving him so well. you light up my dash with your writings and your meta and just how much thought you put into him. i'm obsessed. however, you've turned me back into a weeb and i unfortunately cannot ever forgive you for that.
uwu how’s my portrayal?
it’s okay poppy, i give you full permission to take me out for that one. some crimes can never be forgiven. but also, thank you for your support & encouragement & general good vibes you are constantly throwing me on this blog. i love writing iruka so much in HUGE part thanks to you and lu ten.
They are hers to call now, contract made, blood given dripping freely. She is not afraid (gleeful, cold eyes watching her as she writhed, telling her of power, how it requires loss. Her body lost in agony, until she knows only a body in pain and nothing more, she cannot escape this body & cannot escape any longer. Screaming like the frail lost child found in the streets) they are here, they do not move as she reaches out a hand. They are her protectors now, the Doki, three of them, she thinks them beautiful, the true sign of power, strength, a tangible force she can control-- these that are chained to her—more than just her puppets or pawns to move, they are an extension of herself -her true form, able to destroy her enemies. & enemies abound, on all sides, there in the shadows, there behind her, but she holds not that fear now. They will know her teeth, know what it means to be made prey. Hear your heartbeat reflected in the melody? Soon it will be silent. Listen, listen—know as I know--what it is to be devoured.
Atla verse: she is all snarls, fist clenched, fire lashes out, they push her & push her towards it—until they form, THREE, each a raging inferno at first, then her flute sounds & they move forward, arms coming to prevent anyone from getting close—then the fire surges forward—wielding a club of white hot flames, they cannot hurt her so easily again. An inhalation before euphoria takes her, oh, she is far above the common benders before her.
hands are gentle as he applies a salve to the other's burn. it was an accident; training gone awry, one of many dangers of battling a fire wielding teen. lu ten does not apologize for fighting too hard or taking it too seriously ( he can't; unsure of how or where to begin ), but he had quickly ordered a servant to bring him what he'd need to patch him up. " how are you feeling ? " fingers stay put, longer than necessary, on the other's arm as he begins wrapping a bandage around the wound.
lu ten’s touch is soft, gentle as fingers ghost over the arm he’s just burnt. perhaps iruka shouldn’t be so pleased, hung up on each movement his sparring partner makes ( movements that are very different than how he fights. unfamiliar and intimate ). but, fighting has always been their path to contact, and perhaps an injury or two may just have to become a sacrifice he’s willing to make if this is the result. surely, today’s match has taught him not to block with his arms, but sometimes mistakes bare repeating. all the better to learn from them.
“fine. this will heal well, thanks to you.” he examines how lu ten applies the bandages, a skill so practical for a warrior to have, yet so uncharacteristically tender. especially now, as he suspects the other’s hands linger, longer than is necessary. he wonders, as quickly as lu ten had ordered for supplies, could he have requested a medic? had he chosen to patch iruka up himself, an attempt to gain closeness? perhaps, but he can’t get his hopes up. whatever the case, iruka is thankful for the result, of two young boys sharing a moment, quiet and tender and kind.
“i’ll have to be more careful.” he shoulders the blame easily; iruka should expect nothing less from his opponent, heir to the fire nation’s throne. and he, though a friend, is not exempt from the young man’s skill and force on the battle field. he’ll just have to be better ( a large feat ) or else get used to the pain.
