Chapter Text
Flames in the forest
chapter one: a fire hard to kill
❄
The full moon casts an eerie glow, bathing the treetops in a silvery hue. The night breeze is thick with the sharp scent of pines and damp, musty wood. The freezing air bites into his long dark fur, each gust of wind an obscure reminder of the unforgiving reality he faces. Alone in the heart of the wildwoods, with his paws and brown coat heavy with snow, his thoughts wander to the grim possibility of his end. The idea of succumbing to the cold seems almost merciful compared to the alternative.
He knows there are far more gruesome ways to die than this. He has tasted in his own flesh how cruel his kind could be, the horrors they are capable of. He has seen what death looks like a long time ago and yet, in his mind, the lifeless faces of his pack members remain fresh, the pain forever carved on them. His pack who, like him, had put their trust in the wrong hands— alpha hands. His whole body shivers, not just from the cold, but from the memories of their captors. Their cruel eyes, the heavy chains they used to bind them, their always-hungry bloody fangs, the relentless torment—they haunt his every step.
As a result, the mistrust that took root in his heart is like poison, spreading through his veins with every heartbeat. He can’t shake the feeling of betrayal, the sting of having been deceived by those he was supposed to follow. The alpha’s promises have been sweet, laced with assurances of safety and a better future, but they ended up being nothing more than lies. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the faces of his fallen pack members filled with terror and pain. He remembers the way they looked at him, silently pleading for help that he couldn't give. The guilt gnaws at him, a constant reminder of his failure to protect them. He had been like them, just another omega pup thrown into a cruel reality. Even now, years later, he can’t help but feel he should have done more; that he should have been stronger.
He had trusted blindly in their alpha friends, like the rest, believing in their guide for the pack, but that trust had been shattered. They had led them into a trap, selling them out to monsters for their own gain. The betrayal is a wound that refuses to heal, festering with each passing day. The memories of their captivity are vivid, etched into his mind and body like a brand. He can still feel the weight of the chains, the bite of the metal against his skin, the helplessness. He learned to be wary, to question every motive and scrutinize every action. Trust is a luxury he can no longer afford. The scars on his body are a testament to the lessons he has learned, each one a reminder of the price of misplaced faith.
Dying here, in the quiet embrace of the forest, feels like a release. It is a death on his own terms, a final act of defiance against those who seeked to break him.
His breath forms small clouds in the frigid air as he lies down on the snow-covered floor, his body too exhausted to continue. He can't hunt thanks to his still-healing broken leg (an unfortunate encounter with a stray alpha that tried his luck and got his tail handed to him) and hasn't eaten in days. He tries to remember how many, exactly, but his memories are twisted. He is tired and weak. There’s not an ounce of chakra in his veins. He closes his eyes, letting the cold seep into his bones. Better this, he thinks, than to fall once more into the hands of those who would enjoy and take pride in making him suffer. Better this than to have his life stolen by them.
It's okay, almost perfect. He feels his body slowly shutting down, ready to get the forever sleep his tired and scarred form aches for. He feels the falling snow quietly covering him, giving him a beautiful, stark white burial. It is peaceful, the gentlest death he can imagine and one that most of his loved ones have wished for.
Then, a scream is heard in the woods, breaking the spell.
His head lifts heavily from the icy ground and his eyes open, an almost forgotten sparkle flaring in them. He sniffs the air. The first smell that reaches his nose is the clear, distinct stench of alpha, and his body trembles with terror. His aching muscles, prepared to succumb to death just seconds ago, are awake and ready to jump into action to get away from that bloody scent as quickly as possible. But beneath that overpowering fear-odour, he detects the soft, sweet smell of a wolf pup, alone and terrified. His heart quickens.
His mind is divided and tormented for a moment. Alpha means danger and all the horrors they carry with them. They mean death, and an awful one at that, or worse: becoming their property. But there is a pup! A pup in need that screams for help and is probably afraid and hurt. Another cry echoes between the trees, and it is all Iruka needs to get himself on his fours and take off to where the youngling is. Steeling himself, Iruka pushes through the underbrush, each step quiet, deliberate. The closer he gets, the more the forest around him becomes a cacophony of whispers and rustles, but his focus is unwavering. He moves with a blend of urgency and caution, driven by an instinct older than time itself.
Stop! Turn around! Leave!, commands the loud voice of his inner omega, terrified by his past experiences, but his legs don't listen. He keeps going in the direction his nose, ears, and heart take him.
Finally, he reaches a small, frozen clearing, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight. There, huddled at the base of a gnarled sakura tree covered in snow and protected by its roots, is the pup. Its eyes, blue, giant orbs wide with fear, shine like twin stars. Suddenly, he realizes the pup is also a very young alpha, and his heart aches for this child, even as the fear that the smell alone arouses in him flares. He has no time to linger with his confused and mixed feelings, as the scent of another alpha is growing stronger, closer, and the stench is totally different from the small one: this one reeks of violence and rage. It wants blood.
Summoning all his courage, Iruka approaches the pup.
“It's okay,” he whispers, softly, “I'm here to help. Stay.”
The poor thing trembles but seems to sense the scarred wolf is here to protect him and it obeys.
Iruka scans the clearing, his senses on high alert. The older alpha is near, its presence a dark shadow on the edge of his mind. He has to act quickly, but his path is clear—he will face the terror of his past to ensure the safety of this innocent life. Out of nowhere, a menacing growl rumbles through the clearing. Iruka turns to the sound as a large figure emerges from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with malice, his massive form dwarfing Iruka’s. The tension crackles in the air, thick and oppressive. Iruka’s eyes never leave the massive white wolf in front of him. Brown, almost-gold irises lock with icy green ones.
“Still trying to protect the weak,” sneers the alpha, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, “Fools never change, it seems.”
Realization hits Iruka, and a foggy old memory takes form. He knows this wolf. This is Mizuki, someone he had called a friend once, one of the alphas that agreed to sell the pack and condemned them to years of pain and suffering. The reason he lost everything after the attack that took his family away from him. The reason why his old omega packmates were all exploited and dead today. Fury turns his vision red. He wants to tear that damn grin off of Mizuki’s face. It is the least he deserves. Iruka will not let another pup suffer at the hands of this monster ever again, even if it means dying in the process. He stands his ground, his body coiled with readiness.
“I won't let you harm this pup,” he replies, his voice steady, heart pounding like a drum, “You will have to fight me if you want to get to him!”
“Fine by me.”
Iruka’s answer is a fierce snarl that resonates through the whole clearing.
The fight begins with blinding speed. One moment they are several feet apart, and the next Iruka can feel the alpha’s hot breath on his face. His enemy lunges, his powerful jaws snapping inches from Iruka's throat. Iruka dodges, moving with surprising agility for his smaller and weaker frame. Weeks of walking and running nonstop with little to no food in his system have made him lean and fast. He knows he is no match for Mizuki, but he has something Mizuki lacks— fierce determination and someone to protect. They clash, teeth bared, white and brown fur flying everywhere. Iruka darts in and out, landing quick blows. His smaller stature allows him to move with speed and he wastes no time in exploiting every opening he can find. The alpha’s brute strength is overwhelming, each of his attacks powerful enough to break a bone in two, but Iruka uses his agility to stay just out of reach. He aims for weak spots, going for the legs and the vulnerable areas around the neck, using his experience to fight smart.
The clearing echoes with the sounds of their struggle, a primal symphony of survival. Mizuki lunges over and over at him, and Iruka barely avoids the snapping jaws, feeling the rush of air as they come close inches from his skin. A whimper from the pup's hiding spot takes his eyes away from Mizuki, a distraction he uses to bite down into Iruka’s upper thigh. Pain shoots through Iruka, but he grits his teeth and he counters it with a swift bite to Mizuki’s abdomen, drawing blood. The alpha howls in pain and fury, swiping at Iruka with a powerful paw. Iruka is knocked to the ground, but he rolls and springs back up, refusing to stay down.
Mizuki's green eyes blaze with malice and he rushes forward with renewed aggression. The larger wolf charges and Iruka side steps, slashing at Mizuki’s side with his fangs. It’s a small victory, but he knows he can't keep this up forever. His whole body is trembling and red is cascading from his leg. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself but he can’t escape the truth: he is tired, his muscles are burning, his movements are becoming slower, but he can't—no, he refuses to give up. Not with the pup watching, counting on him. With a final, desperate burst of energy, he lunges at the alpha, sinking his teeth into the larger wolf's shoulder. The alpha howls, staggering back. Mizuki, now bleeding and enraged, stares at him with a look of pure hatred. Breathing heavily, Iruka stands protectively in front of the tree. His strength seems to leak out of him as freely as his blood with every breath he takes, but he will not let this alpha hurt the pup.
Never again!
The pup notices his state, sees his injuries and his trembling frame, and in one dangerous, suicidal move, steps out of his shelter. With his orange fur puffed out and his small snout contorted in a menacing snarl, the pup tries to intimidate the alpha attacking them. For a split second, Iruka thinks he is a cute, brave little thing. It reminds him of his young self, always ready to fight for others, even at a disadvantage. Then, the thought is followed by an angry, “Stupid, hide!” before Mizuki lunges again, this time aiming for the pup. Without hesitation, Iruka throws himself between the two of them. The alpha’s jaws clamp down on Iruka’s back with a sickening, wet sound, and a searing pain pierces his entire being. The pup, eyes wide with fear, determination and leaking with tears, lets out a tiny, defiant war cry and nips at the bigger wolf’s leg. The little needle-like teeth make a brief distraction, but enough to make Mizuki hesitate and let go of the brown wolf's flesh. Iruka’s heart pounds as he desperately fights to stay conscious, to protect the pup at all costs.
Suddenly, distant howls echo through the forest, a chorus of fierce, protective calls. The pale alpha’s ears prick up, and he panics as he hears the sound of the pup's pack drawing closer. He takes several steps back, a snarl of frustration escaping his red painted snout.
“This isn't over” Mizuki growls, his eyes blazing with fury. He glances at the approaching shadows and with a final, hate-filled glare at the two of them, flees into the shadows.
Iruka collapses beside the pup. He’s still alert. They have won the battle, but Mizuki is still nearby. For now, though, the young alpha is safe, and that is all that matters to him. He also hears the pup’s pack coming closer. Great. He will be able to get home with his family. They will probably end up hunting Mizuki down and punishing him for trying to hurt someone from their pack. Or not. Who can tell with alphas? They are a sick bunch that enjoys surrounding themselves with death and violence. Iruka’s experience with them has not been the greatest; he can’t really think about them without picturing sick beasts hungry for dominance. He hopes this pup is different, though. For the way he is whimpering and nudging at him, licking softly at his injuries and silently crying and telling him how sorry he is, he seems sweet. He laughs at himself. Sweet? An alpha? He is indeed losing too much blood.
“Go with your pack,” he tells him, his voice raspy and weak. But the kid doesn’t move, set on staying by his side. He fakes annoyance, growling without intent but with enough force to startle the pup. He can’t risk Mizuki deciding to finish the job and hurting him, “Go! And don’t come back!”
The pup reluctantly does as he is told, looking to the place his pack is calling for him. He makes a few steps in their direction before turning and screaming at him, “Don't die! My pack will help you!” With that, he is gone into the pitch black forest, jumping brushes and fallen trees, the reckless sounds he makes quickly drowned by preoccupied howls and the whistling sound of icy winds.
Thinking about the last words the pup says makes Iruka smile tiredly. As if! Assuming there are other alphas in that pack, the safest route for him would be to run with his tail between his legs as far from them as they could carry him. An impossible feat given his current condition. He is exhausted and bleeding out. He doubts he can put ten paws into the snow before collapsing. So, with the little strength he has left, Iruka crawls into the shelter the pup had been occupying before, curling in on himself and ready to rest there until his body can no longer bear the new injuries added to his body. The pain from Mizuki’s bite on his back is the strongest. It throbs relentlessly, making waves that seem to intensify with each shallow, ragged breath he struggles to take. He can only hope luck will be on his side this time and his body will give up before the kid alarms his pack of his position and they find him in the hole he is trying to make his forever home.
Naturally, his luck is not on his side.
Through blurred eyes and on the brink of unconsciousness, reality slips away like sand through his paws. All he can see are figures with no form or sense outside his shelter. There are sounds and smells everywhere, but he can’t distinguish one thing from the other. His senses are useless as the dark puts a claim on him. Then, the face of the pup is very close. Iruka feels that, for some reason, he would be able to recognize those blue, vibrant, worried eyes anywhere, even through the muddiest fog.
“Mister, stay! Stay with me!”
Who does that pup think he is, commanding him like that? He wants to protest, to growl. Suddenly, hands are pulling him out of the small place he has been trying to bury himself in. There are sharp barks, orders being made before careful, powerful fingers are all over his body. He fights them off, or at least tries to. It is torture. He feels like screaming, and he would have done so if he had the strength. Even if they only want to help, even if he feels something soothing washing over his body—even if, for once, someone is touching him to heal instead of doing it to inflict more damage. It is difficult to accept and nearly impossible to stand it. If by some miracle he manages to survive, he is going to scold that insolent pup until his throat is raw.
“You're safe now,” an adult alpha whispers, his voice a calming balm. But it is an alpha’s voice. It shouldn't be reassuring! He should bite that throat the moment it gets too close–! “Wow, you're feisty. But now is not the time for that. Rest. You are among friends.”
Friends? Friends are dangerous. They lie, they betray. They sell you for a few coins and let beasts consume you. He doesn’t want friends... He has vowed to never be deceived like that again. The world is a dangerous place, and he promised to navigate it with caution, always on guard. Even if it means being alone. The ghosts of his past will never leave him, but he tries to use their memory as a shield, a reminder to stay vigilant and never let his guard down. But as he is carried by powerful arms and reassured by a soft, deep voice, Iruka can't help but allow himself to sink fully into the darkness with a tiny sense of hope growing inside him. It is an extremely annoying thing, that flame. No matter how hard he tries or how awful things get, he has never been able to extinguish it. Now that his life is slipping through his many wounds, would it be such a dishonorable thing to do, to wish for a place where he is not only respected but also cherished? To dream of a pack that would protect him fiercely and keep him safe?
He can't bring himself to believe that this pack will be any different from all the other alpha-filled packs he has known. Yet, with arms embracing him protectively and a small hand gripping his tail like a lifeline, he finds himself hoping they might be.