Chapter 3
It had only taken one day at his new job, and Iruka had already filled his bedroom wall with photos and notes, everything connected with a string. Maybe he'd had a little too much to drink today, but he'd mapped out a conspiracy — the structure of Konoha's Academy. And it all made sense, at least to him.
Well, he still lacked many details, and some clues hadn't connected yet. But he had enough to grasp just how deep the corruption ran. Well, not that deep; rather, it was rather shallow: a wide ring of not-so-important people trying to be more important by any means possible.
There were no shadowy powers at the top pulling strings. No elder council, more importantly, no Danzo. But the sheer number of families and businesses with a hand in Academy politics was astonishing.
Until now, he hadn't realized how much money was involved in the Academy. Becoming a shinobi — even a Genin — was lucrative. It raised a family's status just to have a child wear the headband of Konoha. So many would give a hand and a leg for their children to have that opportunity. And the board responsible for the Academy — including the principal and some of the teachers — was more than happy to exploit it all.
"Well, fuck."
Looking over the wall, Iruka couldn't believe what he'd uncovered on his first day. One wall was already filled, and this was just the beginning of his investigation. Those greedy assholes were rotting the Academy from the inside, and no one was doing a damn thing about it.
Well, more like nobody knew or really cared about it. As the system was quite lacking, it still produced somewhat capable shinobi. So, no one could complain. But Iruka felt a bit different about it.
Worse, Danzo and the elders had no hand in it. Just yesterday, he thought only those old geezers were the real problem in the village. At least now, he knew he wouldn't face too much resistance tearing the system down. Rebuilding it? That was going to be harder. He'd need to replace everyone responsible with people he could trust. Having the Hokage's blessing would help with most of the work.
But it wouldn't be easy to convince him since he listens to his council far too much, so he would need to convince them too. Well, that was a problem for later. For now, Iruka crashed into bed. The clock told him he only had a couple of hours before he needed to be up again, but he didn't care. Nothing else to do. Might as well try to catch a few minutes of sleep before class.
…
"Sorry, kid. You're a bit too late — I'm already dead."
Iruka woke up drenched in sweat and with a splitting hangover. A second later, his alarm blared. His sensei's final words echoed in his skull as he stood under the shower and, for the first time in this life, shaved. Judging by the number of cuts on his face, he knew he couldn't focus right now.
Not that it mattered.
He dressed without eating. He didn't feel like it. The morning was quiet as he walked through the streets of Konoha. Chilly for April — especially after February's warmth. The cool air was refreshing, but it didn't clear his head.
Sometimes it just happened. The dreams. The spiral. He knew it would pass once he had something to concentrate on. For now, he shoved it down and kept moving. Like he always did.
"Umino."
Iruka turned. An older teacher greeted him at the Academy entrance.
"I heard there was a bit of a problem yesterday with your students. I just wanted to warn you — a few concerned parents have written their complaints. If it happens again, they might come to the Academy themselves."
"Yotsune Sugakuma, right?" Iruka asked, though he already knew. He'd memorized every name and face tied to the Academy, but he had to pretend to be just another junior teacher. "Thank you for the warning. I went a bit overboard, but it was for a reason. Please trust that all I want is what's best for the students. Though I admit… after sleeping on it, I could've done better. From now on, I will. And if I make more mistakes, please don't hesitate to reprimand me."
"Of course. We're colleagues, after all," Yotsune replied, adjusting his glasses. "And as your senior, I'll do anything I can to help."
Yotsune taught biology, and that made him influential. His classes weren't just anatomy—he covered poison, medicine, and chakra systems. Too bad he was paid handsomely to preach how immoral and dirty it was to use poison. Parents didn't want their children learning to fight that way and being known for it.
Shame. Knowledge of poison had saved Iruka more times than he could count. Identifying it, neutralizing it, and weaponizing it had supplemented his lacking talent and skills. A kunai was just a knife — until you dipped it in paralysis poison. Then it was ten times more effective.
But this was an era of peace. Families didn't want killers — they wanted prestige. No one liked poison users, and that was why one should keep it secret, not discard it completely. A hidden weapon no one expected was twice as deadly.
On his way to class, Iruka kept his eyes open. He didn't look for anyone — that'd seem suspicious. But if someone happened to bump into him? No one would question it. Or even notice it.
"Ah, sorry," Iruka said quickly as he helped a fellow teacher pick up a spilled stack of papers after he bumped her. "Wasn't watching where I was going."
"Hmm." The woman in her mid-twenties looked him over behind round glasses. "A minus."
"What?"
"Your grading," she said calmly. "You did well, but you didn't account for my ability to notice you checking me out a second ago. Still, if it were anyone else, they'd fall for the charm."
"I see," Iruka dropped the smile. "I let my guard down. I suppose I should have expected that much from the infiltration and disguise instructor. The wild, unkempt hair, slouched posture, basic makeup — you made yourself look like a nobody. I'm glad I was wrong, Suzume of a Hundred Faces."
"A name that vanished with the war. Call me Suzume. I don't like reminiscing about past lives. But since you know that much, I'll give you an hour of my time after school. That's what you were after, right?"
"Then it's a date."
"We'll see."
In this world, the ones who looked the most ordinary were often the most dangerous. Underestimating anything led to mistakes. Mistakes that will get you killed.
Unfortunately, the academy didn't teach that. Iruka had to learn the hard way, and he didn't want his students to suffer the same fate.
Complaints from parents who didn't understand what their children were being trained for wouldn't stop him, nor would this system, which is more concerned with politics and money than truly preparing the children.
"Sasuke Uchiha."
Iruka was surprised to find the boy already seated, staring out the window in the classroom.
"You're half an hour early."
"Does it matter?" Sasuke didn't turn.
"No," Iruka said, "but I expect the top student to use his time more wisely. Or is there a reason you're here so early?"
"Got nothing better to do."
"Well, since we're both here, do you have any questions?"
"You know about the Uchiha incident, don't you?"
"You'll find there aren't many who don't know something about it," Iruka said. "And I told you yesterday — I know everything about everyone."
"Then why don't you look at me with pity like everyone else?"
"You're not the only one who's lost people — family, friends. Do you know how many orphans in this village don't even know their parents' names? One of them is your classmate."
"So, I'm just… nothing special to you?"
Not special in the slightest. If he were the little brother of someone else, Iruka wouldn't even care to answer that question. But he was special, just in the ways that he couldn't know. Not yet, at least.
"What do you want to hear?" Iruka asked, and seeing him staying silent, he continued. "You're confused. You got used to the pity. Now you don't know what to do when someone doesn't treat you like an injured puppy. I lost my parents when I was just a bit older than you. I won't say I understand how you feel. But I know something of it. I feel sympathy for you, Sasuke — but I don't pity you. You don't need it."
"Do you want to kill someone, no matter what?"
"Yes."
"Then, can you answer me how strong is Itachi? No one will tell me."
Iruka was a bit surprised at how easy Sasuke opened up to him. But he was just a boy, and it wasn't even a year since the incident. He was grasping for straws and completely lost, and no one could help him. Iruka knew that feeling, even though he had different ways to deal with it.
"Well, he entered the Academy at six. Graduated top of his class at seven. Promoted to Chūnin at ten. After that, his file's classified, and that means he did the kind of missions no one should know about. Top secret and very dangerous. If that doesn't give a good picture, I should mention that in this entire village, few could match his talent. None could surpass it."
"So, if he decided to come back, no one could stop him."
"Off the top of my head, four people in this village could kill him in a fair fight," Iruka said. "Five years from now? Maybe fewer. But if he came back today, he wouldn't get out alive. And in the future? He won't reach you. At least if he acted alone."
"You're weird."
"I get that a lot."
"No one else will even say his name to me, but you'll talk about him openly."
"Because I know nothing I say will be worse than what you've already lived through. And I won't sugarcoat the world. I want you — and your classmates — to lose everything. Your comforts. Your illusions. Especially the idea that you could stand a chance against someone like Itachi."
The limited view of the world was quite a problem, and it was hard to fix that problem. There was no sure way around it. So, everyone's understanding of it will always be limited and bound by their knowledge, or rather, the lack of it. What these kids think is the reality of the world is nothing but a dream they have yet to wake up from.
"So, I'll never be able to kill him?"
"Fighting and killing are different. Fighting requires strength. Killing requires preparation. Learn his habits, his strengths, and his weaknesses. Even someone like Itachi can be killed by someone like you, if you're prepared and given ten years. Even the most perfect trap won't harm a wolf if it is set by a hare."
Iruka's cold expression melted into a bright smile as the hallway buzzed with noise. He turned toward the door, his face now soft and composed — a mask firmly in place by the time the next student walked in. Sasuke seemed to catch it and stayed silent.
A.N. I hate summer. Anyway, sorry for not posting last week; it is for the same reason why I hate summer. The idiot decided to work in the yard on a sunny and nice day, one of the few we get in my country. Well, I learned the hard way why you should put on sunscreen or a shirt, even if the sun doesn't seem that bad at the moment. Got a horrible sunburn. For days, my skin peeled off and the most painful way, and even now, one and a half weeks later, my back is itchy as hell, making it hard to sleep and concentrate. So, yeah, I hate summer and never going outside ever again.
As always, thanks for reading and supporting me, so I can continue writing without any worries, and if you want more, up to seven advanced chapters, you can support me on Patreon. com \ ironwolf852.