Chapter Text
Iruka takes with him a part of Tenzou that leaves him suspended in a reality as if he is merely in stasis, in waiting, a pause while everyone else moves forward, a pain wrapping around his heart that never truly goes away.
The funeral is a somber affair, with Tenzou standing there next to his children, one hand holding Ren’s, who cries and cries, and cries, the lily in his fist shaking. He stands there, mute, wordless, as silent as the body tucked within the coffin, staring at the photograph of Iruka’s beautiful smiling face, seeing but not seeing.
He is present, yet not.
It’s how he moves forward.
It’s the only way he knows how.
He is silent as he packs up Iruka’s belongings neatly into boxes, segregating things to be donated, and putting things for storage that he knows Iruka would have wanted the boys and Reiko to have. He is silent when he finds the stash of journals in Iruka’s study, quiet as the dead when he memorizes the contents of Iruka’s neat block hand writing, a distant siren echoing in his ears as he reads Iruka’s thoughts, what he held so very dearly to his heart, as if Iruka is sitting next to him, his voice clear, until one day, Tenzou starts to forget how he sounds like. The pain in his heart intensifies at that, at forgetting, that is.
One day, time wins over.
Time, Tenzou realizes from a distance, did not seem to care that the world is just a touch darker now that Iruka is gone. It didn’t care much for the structured schedule and order Tenzou meticulously maintains in the Umino household, where he constantly prepares Iruka’s meals either by himself or with Toshio by his side, or when he caves and teaches all of it to the rest of his children. Time didn’t give a fuck when one day, Tenzou finds himself staring at the notice the twins bring home one day from the Academy, a recommendation to graduate early and be assigned to an older genin graduate, their childhood cut shorter, something Iruka had wanted to prolong, but as Tenzou has learned, time didn’t give two shits about what people wanted, even the best of them.
One day, Reiko too, comes home with a special notice to graduate early.
One day, Toshio too is graduating from the Academy, two years after Iruka’s death.
Ren is old enough to come home by himself when Tenzou becomes field active again.
But that too changes one day, when Ren shows up with a forehead protector, declaring he wants to accept a mentorship at the Academy, wants to be a teacher, “Just like Otou-chan, Otou-san.”
With the children growing up so fast, the pain in Tenzou’s heart continues to grow, squeezing, squeezing, always squeezing as parts of Iruka suddenly seems several steps far away.
But Tenzou remains present for all this; he celebrates his children’s accomplishments and victories, their sorrows and pain when they come back injured from their missions. He is beside them when they loose a teammate, when the twins ascend to ANBU and carries their first dead comrade home. He is there when Reiko becomes a hunter, when Toshio succeeds in becoming a jounin and then a medic, when Ren finally becomes a teacher in training at the Academy, when Naruto and Hinata celebrates the birth of their second child, Himawari.
He is there wishing that Iruka should have been present for all this. During those moments of realization, Tenzou has to pause and press a palm to his chest, telling himself to remember how to breathe.
Iruka would have known how to celebrate it better, would have had better words to impart to their children than he could ever come up with.
He is there when Kakashi places a hand on his shoulder, every year, on the anniversary of Iruka’s death, as Tenzou lays down a bouquet of flowers on the memorial, wiping dust and the environment off the letters of Iruka’s name. Kakashi, who hasn’t left his side, who has been there supporting the growth of his children, training them, sparring with them, giving the advice, Kakashi who has never abandoned them, even when a part of Tenzou has, all those years ago, when he held Iruka in his arms, begging him to wait, wait just a minute, please.
Tenzou is present, something tugging at his heart for the first time in years when Ren shows up, so very tall now – was he always this tall – and beautiful, just like Iruka had once been, his brown hair long like Iruka, his smile as wide as Iruka, a dimple dotting one cheek, his hand encased around a bigger, stronger hand of a man, as broad as Tenzou, as tall as Tenzou, someone Tenzou’s has trained in ANBU years ago. Ren introduces as Yamamoto Hayashi – Hayashi-kun, Ren would say, in a way that makes the corners of Tenzou’s eyes twitch. Hayashi who is quiet, strong, dependable, who looks at Ren like he’s the only thing important in the world.
Tenzou is present when Hayashi asks for Ren’s hand, serious and fearless, determined and so very devoted to his youngest son.
Tenzou is present during the first wedding ceremony in the family.
He is present when Ren and Hayashi tells him that they’re adopting a baby boy. That they will name him Iruka.
That pinches Tenzou’s heart in a way that leaves him unable to breathe, as he lies in his bed alone for the umpteenth time, cozied up on Iruka’s former side of the bed that has stopped smelling like him for years now.
One day, he realizes, that he’s tired of being present, as he watches Iruka run across the garden, chasing after a butterfly by the lavender field. One day, as he sits there, with gray in his hair, Kakashi next to him, sharing a cup of tea, he says:
“Senpai, I’m tired,” Tenzou murmurs, soft, surrendering with an ache in his heart that never truly went away since the day Iruka closed his eyes for the last time. It has gotten worse now, the ache that is. He can no longer pretend its not present. He’s tried over the years, over special breakfasts and lunches, weddings and birthdays, and his grandchildren.
“I know,” Kakashi responds, equally as soft.
“Do you think Iruka would be upset with me feeling like this?” Tenzou asks, looking up at the afternoon sun, breath slow and even, calm.
“No, I don’t think he would be,” Kakashi responds, whisper-soft, as he reaches forward and wraps a hand around the curve of Tenzou’s shoulder. “You’ve done well, Umino Tenzou. You are the best of us. He’d be proud of you.”
“I can’t wait to see him again,” Tenzou admits, smiling at the idea of seeing his beloved once more. “It’s been so long…”
Kakashi says nothing.
He doesn’t get to.
Because one day, Tenzou wakes up one morning and finds Iruka sitting beside him, as beautiful as the first day he’s met him, dimples dotting his cheeks, a strong hand gently brushing over Tenzou’s cheek in a warm caress.
“Missed me?” Iruka asks, his smiling twitching up to a cheeky grin that robs Tenzou of breath.
And Tenzou says, yes. I’ve missed you.
FIN