"There are diplomatic ramifications," Kakashi says, leaning back against the desk with his arms crossed.

"Yes, yes, you've said. I don't care! This is bullshit!"

"Language," Iruka can't help but rebuke, because Naruto will never stop being a kid in his classroom to him.

Ever rebellious, Naruto narrows his eyes right back.

"Don't give me that!” He looks at Kakashi. “If you don't wanna marry the daimyo's whatever, then don't." 

"A plain refusal would be seen as disrespect," Iruka retorts. "Naruto, if you're going to be Hokage, you have to understand. This too is part of the job."

For some reason, his words fail to allay any worries. If anything, even Kakashi's whole stance tightens.

Naruto pays it no mind and proceeds to glare up accusingly at him. "Why would you bring Iruka-sensei into this?"

"Iruka-sens--"

"I offered," Iruka cuts in, a bit too promptly. He's not sure why. Surely it should be flattering, to be reminded yet again of the many reasons that make him a good pick for the position. He's never felt this effortlessly special in his life. 

Luckily, when Kakashi speaks next, his words are neutral and factual. "We can't have a member of the daimyo's family or his court influencing Konoha's decisions. We'll always be loyal to him and look after his protection, but if we're to build peace we need independence from his interests."

Impervious to any and all of their explanations, Naruto proceeds to act like Iruka didn't spend years of his life looking after his education. "Then why do we answer to him ?"

The quiet that follows is so abrupt it rings like a threat. Shikamaru can be heard groaning softly in the background, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like: "Naruto you moron, that's treason," but he, too, stops speaking after that, like the words escaped him and he really doesn't want any attention after all.

In the end, Kakashi's the one who breaks the silence. "He's our lord," he says simply.

Naruto remains unconvinced. "Yeah? So? Keeping us on hand like we're just weapons? What's the point of sending me to all corners of the world to unite the villages if we're still considering war? Because when you say "protection"... We know that's what it is."

A little cough draws their attention to the side. "Shinobi need to answer to a structure, to a purpose higher than them," Shizune says gently. "It's always kept us humble."

Naruto's expression when he looks at her is one that reminds Iruka he was at the front lines. He saw the devastation, he held the corpses. He's so terribly resilient and his heart is so big that it's easy to forget, sometimes.

Not now.

"Well... How's that worked out so far?"

Those are very dangerous words.

Shikamaru seems to agree because he looks mildly wired when he speaks up again. "Regardless, turning away from the daimyo would be definite war, so pick your poison."

That seems to finally strike true at Naruto's stubbornness. He deflates like a leaky balloon.

"It's just..." he starts saying before trailing off while he mulls it all over. For being a young father married to a childhood crush, his next words are ones they should have anticipated and yet Iruka's fully unprepared when he says: "I wish you'd marry for love."

And just like that, the whole energy of the room shifts. Kakashi himself looks profoundly uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"Riiight," says Shikamaru, edging towards the exit while Shizune starts to stack a pack of folders from her desk, hugging it nervously to her chest before shooing Tonton out with a foot.

"We'll just... leave you to it."

It takes a few seconds, excruciatingly awkward and just as long, and no small amount of aggrieved grunting from a pearl-necklaced pig clearly at odds with being woken from her nap, but eventually they manage to exit the room. Shizune closes the door behind her with so much care one might think she's afraid the click of the latch might be that of a bomb. For all Iruka knows she could be right but they'll never know, because her ministrations succeed in shutting the door with an eerie lack of noise.

"Naruto..." Iruka starts to say once they're sure they're alone. He's unpleasantly aware of Kakashi's presence to his left, a dark, warm silhouette nearly burning his mind's eye.

If Kakashi had anything to say, he doesn't get to.

"Don't give me that, it's not fair. You deserve better." Naruto looks at Kakashi. "Both of you. You deserve..." He cuts himself off, frowning to himself as he sorts through whatever many thoughts are roiling in his head. Iruka tries to meet Kakashi's gaze but finds his eyes off-center, like he's a bit distracted himself.

Just great.

Then, so sharply Iruka nearly startles, Naruto pulls himself together. His spine is straight, his shoulders are square. The frenzy that's been driving him all this meeting seems to settle. He looks his age, suddenly, no longer moved by the ingrained instincts of a wild child, perhaps even older, wiser. He meets their eyes, one after the other, then gives a little nod.

"We'll figure this out. I'll talk to him. Believe me."

Never before in Iruka's life has he felt such a spike of unfathomable dread at somebody's reassurances, least of all Naruto's. He trusts Naruto, trusts him implicitly, to the marrow of his bones. He's risked his life, the world's life, Naruto's, on a mission individually assigned by the Hokage and that specifically told him not to, precisely because he trusts Naruto, his words and his heart and his ability to reach other people's.

He does not trust the daimyo and his court to listen. Bodies pile on so quickly when they drop.

"There's no need--"

"Sensei, just let m--"

"It is love!" Iruka hears himself shout. His voice reverberates against the walls, falling across his stunned assistance like a livewire blanket. He could swear Kakashi's eyes widen and maybe his chest stop moving too, however briefly, but Iruka doesn't have time to linger to check. His own hairs have started to stand, a shudder of goosebumps going through him like a thunderstrike. "It is love, Naruto," he repeats, forcing his breathing in and out. "Love for Konoha, for its people. That's what the Will of Fire is. Dedication."

But he can see that the shock of his first outcry is wearing off and that the stubborn jut of Naruto's jaw is forming again.

"It's not not..." Iruka chuckles to himself in disbelief, stunned by what he's about to confess. "Did you know that Kakashi-san and I have been on a mission together before?"

Naruto blinks, cut short by the non-sequitur. Even Kakashi looks a little winded by the turn of the conversation.

"Er... no? I mean, I guess, but no?"

Iruka nods, for no reason at all, probably just because the nervous energy running through him has to go somewhere or he'll explode.

"It was right before I decided to become a teacher." He pauses. "Actually it's when I decided to become a teacher." He glances at Kakashi, hoping for a sign of support, a connection, anything, but Kakashi's expression is inscrutable so his tentative smile gets lost in the space between them. It might as well be a chasm.

At least Naruto's more receptive to his story-telling, when Iruka turns back to him.

"I messed up, in that mission. Quite a lot. Kakashi-san was team leader. He was... very kind about it." Iruka scratches his cheek with a laugh, because apparently this is his life. "Needless to say, I carried a bit of a torch for him after that."

"You... what?" Naruto's voice breaks with his incredulity. There’s a strange echo to it too.

 Iruka's out of words. "Yep."

"And you're not just saying..."

"Nope."

In the silence that follows, Iruka worries they might be able to hear his heartbeat. The drumming sure is relentless to his ears.

Naruto falls back against the backrest. "Uh."

Kakashi looks at once paler than usual and slightly flushed around the edges of the mask. It's a curious look on him but now's still not the time to stare, so Iruka rubs the scar across his nose as a distraction.

"So you see, it's not a marriage without affection," he concludes somewhat lamely.

The look Naruto sends him is a mix of shrewd and tired, like he knows he's being placated in some way or another but he's also drained. That's fine by Iruka. Naruto doesn't have to believe, and he shouldn't expect this whole situation to miraculously turn into a love match either - nobody should, after all. All that matters is the uncertainty of Iruka's true feelings keeping him from doing anything rash. Like blowing up carefully curated alliances.

Iruka pushes himself to his feet, absently patting out the creases of his trousers.

"I should get back to work," he announces, feeling weirdly floaty. "The budget won't count itself on its own."

At last and as if breaking out of a spell, Kakashi comes to life. He leaves the support of the desk and uncrosses his arms, following Iruka to the entrance with an unusual jitter to his movements.

"Ah, Iruka-sensei, could I... Could you and I... Could we have a word?"

So close to freedom, the door a handspan away, Iruka finds it in himself to do one last misdirection, clumsy as it is. He gestures in Naruto's direction, who's peeking around the backrest of his chair to stare at them.

"Ah, perhaps later? I thought you might want Naruto to debrief you about his trip to Suna."

And Kakashi must truly be out of it, because it works.

*

This little interruption has eaten quite a bit of Iruka's afternoon, and by the time he reaches the Academy’s building again a few of his teachers are already on their way out. They exchange a nod of greetings after which the younger ones fall into titters together while glancing back at him, but he's strangely numb to it.

He reaches his office, turns on the lights and gets back to work, compiling lines after lines of expenses and shifting numbers around to figure out his wiggle room for possible guest instructors.Trying to make up for the lost hour, he works past his time, and then beyond, until the night has fully set and the streetlights have turned on. Hunger drives him home, then, on the way to which he purchases some stale onigiri and a pre-packaged curry bowl from a corner shop.

He doesn't even remember shutting the door behind, or taking off his shoes, except here he is, at home and barefoot sliding downwards with his back against the door until he's sitting in the genkan amid a couple of cheap pairs of slippers and his knocked over sandals.

The non-descript plastic bag of food hits the floor by his side. His face drops in his hands.