Chapter Text
The smell of fried food and salty air hung heavy in the little summer shack, grease and ocean breeze mixing together under the lazy spin of a ceiling fan that barely worked. Somewhere outside, waves rolled against the shore, and the wooden boardwalk creaked every time someone passed.
It was fairly packed tonight.
Packed, at least, compared to the slow bleed of customers over the past few weeks.
Iruka had taken the job shortly after moving back to Konohagakure from a city that had promised “new beginnings.” Two years later, all he’d gained were polite rejection emails and a talent for pretending he wasn’t lonely.
Pfft.
It wasn’t that bad.
Once the last of the beachgoers filtered out, his “break” began. Which really meant wiping down sticky plastic tables, stacking the light chairs outside, and claiming whatever leftovers the kitchen didn’t feel like throwing out.
Okay, fine. The food wasn’t terrible.
A little cold, maybe. But that’s what microwaves were for.
See? Tactical.
…
Ugh.
Iruka sat on one of the stools behind the counter, legs swinging idly, the heels of his shoes knocking lightly against the wood. The ponytail he’d tied at the start of his shift had long since given up. Dark strands slipped loose, and for what felt like the fifth time that night, he brushed them behind his ear.
The shack felt bigger when it was quiet.
Too big.
The string lights above the counter buzzed softly, and somewhere outside a wave crashed louder than the rest.
Then the little bell tied to the screen door suddenly clinked and rattled.
Like a switch flipping, Iruka straightened immediately, his tired posture snapping upright as a polite smile slid onto his face. He stepped forward to greet whoever had wandered in.
—
Iruka walked through the streets of Konohagakure, his steps rather heavy, and his fingers snapping as he went in an attempt to keep himself up long enough to get home.
Umino had agreed to work the night shifts when his short lived co-worker, Genma, quit after throwing a fit about the freshly established “no cigarettes” policy that stuck to the door of the shack.
Genma wasn’t someone Iruka particularly looked to for entertainment, but he would admit he missed the background grumbling about “no good freeloaders” and “grown men who didn’t know how to tip.”
His mindless thoughts were interrupted by a loud banging noise to the left of him. His body shifted toward the disturbance hesitantly, standing guard for whatever was clumsily approaching. A metal tin can falls over, and a screeching hairless cat crawls over a familiar figure.
“Agh–! Iruka sensei, catch that mangy naked mole rat!” A particularly raspy voice caught Iruka’s attention, and the man only groaned. “Naruto, what is it with you now?”
Iruka dragged his feet on the pavement, kneeling down in front of the blond. His scarred hand reaches between them, flicking the kid’s forehead.
“I was tryin’ ta catch that cat, it ate all my mochi rice cakes!” Naruto stood up with a pout, brushing himself off as if it’d make him look any more presentable.
Umino rises, staring the kid down before sighing and walking down his path again, unflinching at the other falling into pace. “I’m not sure cats can eat those. I bet you’re just saying that to convince others that you didn’t eat them all by yourself in one sitting because you’re embarrassed,” Iruka teased with a slight smirk tugging at his lips.
Naruto was mainly like a son to Iruka. Neither really grew up with parents, so Iruka automatically felt like Naruto was his responsibility. He was all too familiar with being alone.
Always buying extra instant ramen cups, cutting up all the strawberries for easy access. Cooking something new every week because he didn’t want Naruto having the same appetite daily. But he told himself he did all of it because it was convenient.
The keys jingle and clink as Iruka pushes the door open, the smell of his worn out sandalwood scent he got from the corner store near his house for just ¥312 filling his nostrils. He steps inside, sliding his sandals off and kicking them off by the side of the door.
“I’m stayin’ here toni–” “Absolutely not,” Iruka cuts in with exhaustion in his tone. He ignores the boy flailing with an ugly look plastered on his features.
“Wha–Iruka sensei!! C’mon, it’s already late, and I don’t wanna go home just yet! C’mon, you’ve gotta let me!”
The man sighs, and for the first time in about two days, he’s convinced nothing in his life is real.
“And why don’t you want to? I thought I told you to quit calling me sensei,” He glares at the hyperactive knucklehead with crossed arms.
Naruto smiles awkwardly, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, ah–it’s a bit messy right now…but I’ll clean it, promise! I don’t break any promises! C’mon, I already committed! You can’t undo a commitment!” “Yeah, Naruto. I’m aware. You say the same thing all the time.”
Iruka sighs, pressing his hand to his forehead with a hand on his hip. “Fine, you can stay. But so help me, if the strawberries I just bought are gone before I get some–” The air’s practically forced out of him as the ninja bolts passed Iruka, immediately opening up the fridge like it was routine. “Right, thanks a lot, sensei!”
Normally, Iruka would most likely throw a nearby shoe at the kid’s head, on point. But now, he was running on overstimulation and pure dedication. He drags his socked feet, shrugging his jacket off and letting it fall to the floor. “Don’t forget to put the fruit up..”
Iruka swayed lightly, falling face first onto the couch with a small groan once his body finally gave up.