Well, there was an idea which settled down in my mind and after some time it wanted to get out. Hopefully you'll like it.

Please, bear in mind that this story will be more of the dark side and certainly not fluffy. The OOC-level of Kakashi and Genma depends on your own perception. I'm a little tired of seeing them as harmless. They're ninja, and ninja kill. Thus, they are far from being tame. Anyway, the story's yaoi. Don't like? Don't read.

Disclaimer: To whom it may concern Naruto doesn't belong to me. It's the property of Masashi Kishimoto. I don't make money out of writing this story.

Warnings: German's my first language and this won't change as long as I live.

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by Black Kitten's Dream

Part 1

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Iruka stared down at the sheet of paper in front of him. Another mission report poorly filled out, hastily written and lacking most of the personal standard information. It was the second in a row already, given to him dismissively with the expectation that it was his job to fill out the blank lines.

To write only what was absolutely necessary was a habit a couple of Jounin had acquired over the last week, and it was only directed towards Iruka while his co-workers at the mission desk were being treated normally. Iruka knew what had triggered this behaviour, even if the reason for it was never brought up verbally by the Jounin who were treating him so unkindly.

It had been his objection during the nomination for the Chuunin exam. The moment he had raised his voice and had questioned their judgment he had stepped over a line. The line existed from the start, showing the natural differences between ranks, and now, after he had crossed this line in a moment of passion some Jounin had taken it personally.

There were two different kinds of groups showing their displeasure about his action. The larger group rebuked him subtly with frowns or stern voices. He could deal with them, silently apologizing with looks and politeness, knowing that they would forgive him in time. However, the other, smaller group was more open with their criticism. Like Asuma, Genma, or Kakashi.

The dismissive behaviour, the lack of personal standard information in the mission reports, or the mocking tone used when being spoken to by those particular ninja weren't really a surprise for him. They were reminding him of his lower rank and the hierarchy in their own, more aggressive manner. Iruka had tried to apologize to them once with soft, polite words and a deep bow, but what he had received for his sincere attempt was an aloof look from Asuma, a snide snort from Genma, and Kakashi had acted as if he wasn't there at all.

And since that time, the intensity of their harsh behaviour which had started somewhat subtly first got worse with each day to the point where even his co-workers started to notice that something wasn't right, frowning but not interfering. Uncertain of what was going on.

It left him helpless against the ongoing display of such hostility and the seemingly hopeless situation. Iruka felt lost, alone, not knowing what was expected from him by those men. His politeness was being sneered at, his lower rank shoved into his face unsympathetically, and he got more work than he already had. And the feeling that his work was considered to be unimportant, nearly pathetic compared to those of higher-ranking ninja hurt.

And it made him angry. He was upset by the lack of respect he knew he deserved despite his misbehaviour during the nomination. He had worked hard to gain his rank as Chuunin, had his own share of difficult missions. He was a good, capable teacher, was loyal and devoted. And he had had enough. They had reached a point where he couldn't be submissive anymore just to pacify some offended persons. He wouldn't play secretary anymore for some Jounin who were just too stubborn to accept an honest apology like any other normal being would.

Determined to put an end to this pointless stupidity, Iruka lifted his eyes from the form and opened his mouth to demand a correctly filled report. Blinking, he stared at the empty spot in front of his desk. Genma wasn't there anymore. The Special Jounin had already left to join Raidou and Kakashi who formed a little group a few meters away.

Genma was currently laughing about something Kakashi said, and feeling Iruka's eyes on him he directed his look right over Kakashi's shoulder back to the younger man. When their eyes met, Genma instantly dropped his carefree behaviour and his lips stretched into a sneer. The senbon, held between white teeth, was slowly being rolled from one side to the other. Genma was watching him like a lazy hawk, daring him with a slightly hooded look to object, to demand, or to just have the nerve to simply speak to him.

Gritting his teeth, Iruka lowered his head again. He knew it was futile, that it was just an invitation to receive more humiliation. Cheeks flushed in anger, he grabbed the eraser and began to remove parts of the scribbling which were nearly unreadable or entirely unnecessary due to the fact that drawn skulls, bombs, or giant shuriken pointed at little, ponytail wearing stick-figures had no place in an official mission report.

The room and its occupants vanished from Iruka's sight while he was silently working on Genma's mission report. The task was being done almost mechanically without much attention to it. Iruka's mind was running wild; the urge to defend himself was nearly as strong as the feeling of sheer helplessness.

He thought of the work waiting for him at home, of the many lessons he had to correct and the schedule he should make for the next week. He still had four hours to go at the mission desk before he could finally start on his actual work as a teacher. It would be dark by then when he'd finally come home after a long day, and the mental and physical strain left by teaching and watching over those little would-be ninja had already turned into fatigue.

He heard the voices around him, fellow ninja chatting and laughing, colleagues and friends joking with each other. The loudest voices came from Genma and Kakashi, from those who were currently making his life so miserable. They were talking lightly but just a tad too loud and in a manner that left no doubt that the words were for him.

They made snide comments about people who actually thought that they knew better than their superiors. They snorted about those who had little field experience but believed that they had the right to lecture veterans, such as defiant Academic Chuunin teaching little kids the ABC. They made fun of people who first threw a childish tantrum and then thought that an utterly insincere apology would be enough. And they chuckled about frustrated pencil pushers who were day dreaming about greater things like being a real ninja.

Iruka tightened his hold on the eraser. He didn't even see the sheet of paper in front of him anymore, his world narrowed down to these hurtful words of Genma and Kakashi.

Noisy little Chuunin.

Snotty brat.



The eraser flew. It made its way straight through the room to the nearest target where the soft rubber projectile hit Kakashi on the back of the head, bounced off, and fell down to the floor.

The whole room fell silent, astonished and dumb-founded. Eyes widened and darted from Kakashi to Iruka. Someone laughed out loud, finding humour in the absurdity of the situation, before she fell silent again, watching like the rest of the bystanders, curious and in anticipation of what would follow.

And Iruka knew that he had made a serious mistake. He had given them a perfect opportunity, a perfect reason to humiliate him in public. Paralyzed by what he had done he stood stiff, unable to sit down again. Wide-eyed and with bated breath he stared at Kakashi's back, dreading his reaction. After a few agonizingly long seconds the Jounin turned his head, slowly, and just enough to look at Iruka.

His eye was cold, so very cold.

Iruka was shocked, caught by the icy look directed at him. He felt powerless, couldn't break the eye contact until a distraction in form of small motion drew his attention and he was finally able to tear his eyes off Kakashi's.

The sight of Genma twisted his stomach into tight knots. The Special Jounin was staring at him over Kakashi's shoulder with a feral grin on his lips, and slowly, Genma reached up to take the senbon out. His casual stance never changed when the arm dropped back to its original place, lightly touching the thigh. Genma was holding the senbon almost carelessly, but Iruka knew that this weapon so loosely placed between forefinger and thumb was ready to be thrown.

Iruka stood still. He was a prey surprised by the sudden appearance of natural enemies, stunned into motionlessness, knowing that any wrong movements could be its last. It was an instinctive reaction in order to survive, and it was the beginning of a deadly game.

The realization of what was happening curdled his blood, and Iruka got only one soft-spoken warning before his nightmare began.


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A small note to potential anonym reviewers: If you add an e-mail address, please make sure it's correct. Otherwise I cannot reply to them.

To all of my potential reviewers: Don't be mad if my replies are late. I've got too many hobbies and too little spare time. Anyway, I will give replies, that's for sure. Thanks.

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