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Part 1 of Original work-verse
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Published:
2023-12-03
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2025-06-04
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20/?
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Now, We Will Begin Ethics

Summary:

Takayanagi Kyoichiro swears he's not suicidal, he's simply a suicide enthusiast. He can admit, however, that suicide via carbon-monoxide poisoning might have been more pleasant than getting flattened by a 600-pound truck.

Ah, well, he's here anyway, he might as well enjoy the happy retirement life he didn't get to have before.

Unfortunately, he has landed right in the middle of wartime, and there are homicidal ninja coming in for his advice. Just because he was a high school counselor and teacher who knew how to deal with emotionally unstable teenagers doesn't mean he actually enjoys the job, so please go away, thank you.

TLDR; A former assassin-turned-ethics-teacher reincarnates into a world of ninjas and decides to enjoy retirement. However, these trigger-happy ninja won't leave him alone...

Notes:

Takayanagi Kyoichiro is a Naruto OC I've had in my endless WIP folder for a while now, and after rereading Yujina's Honōka for the umpteenth time, I've decided to post it :)

Update/edit: Also, constantly editing as I go when I find mistakes, cus I don't have a beta

Chapter 1: Prologue

Summary:

Takayanagi Kyoichiro dies.

Notes:

TW: Attempted suicide, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, violence

Chapter Text

August, 2022

Takayanagi Kyōichirō was a teacher.

(A teacher he was, a good teacher, he wasn't.)

"Tachibana-san," He calls out, without even turning around. "Thank you for joining us."

When he does turn around, the girl has climbed fully through the window and sat on her chair. Her classmates very carefully do not look at her.

"Aren't we on the fourth floor…?!" Someone whispers, both awed and terrified. He's ignored.

He wonders if Tachibana had made it to nidan in Judo like she said she was aiming to on the weekend.

There was a fine line that teachers were supposed to draw between themselves and their students, one where they did everything they could to help them succeed, but didn't dare dip their toes into the student's personal life.

A good teacher does not involve themselves in student's hobbies, does not delve into their personal lives, and does not give students hugs to comfort them when they are crying.

But Kyōichirō knew that Amai in the third seat of the third row knitted to help her focus in class, knew that Tachibana-san had trouble with her father at home, knew that Michiko in the front row, ever so diligently listening every single day was forced to return home to an alcoholic mother and three siblings.

Kyōichirō had once found Hanyu outside his apartment, shivering from the cold, and sat next to him while he cried. He had kept Uzuha's part-time jobs a secret from the school. He babysat Rihito's baby brother for 2 hours while he went to tutoring.

Takayanagi Kyōichirō was not a good teacher.

(Kyōichirō had been trained to kill, not nurture.)

In a single, swinging arm movement and a flap of his kimono sleeve, the chalk from his hand flies into the back row and explodes into powder when it hits the wall.

The students near him jump in their seats.

Tanaka, sitting in the back row, startles from his nap, before smiling and rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

Well, Kyōichirō huffs as he turns his attention back to the blackboard. At least he had ways of making his students pay attention.

"Why do I teach...?" He asks out loud as he picks up a new piece of chalk.

"Cus you love us, sensei!" The class choruses in unison.

Kyōichirō wishes they could show this sort of outstanding cooperation in group activities, but he supposes that's wishing too much.

"Honestly," he spares a glance outside the window of the little ethics classroom. "I'm going to find a beautiful woman to commit double suicide with and be rid of the lot of you."

"There it is!" Someone shouts into a closed fist as if they were a sports commentator. "Taka-chan-sensei's daily suicidal commentary!"

"I'm not suicidal," He corrects. "I'm a suicide enthusiast."

"Whatever you say, sensei…"

 

***

 

"Hey," Kyōichirō leans against the railing of the building. "You're Mori-san, right?"

The girl doesn't respond, back turned towards him as she stares into the cloudy blue sky before her. By his feet sit a pair of well-loved leather school shoes, neatly placedside by side.

He lights the cigarette he's put between his lips. The lighter was one of the many his students had gifted him-- it's a rare once-in-a-blue-moon days that he's remembered to bring one instead of imposing himself on his long-suffering co-workers' smoke breaks. Now that he's thinking about it, he's fairly sure students weren't supposed to fund their teacher's nicotine addiction, but unfortunately for them, he doesn't care enough to say anything about it.

Kyōichirō takes the cigarette from his lips.

"..." He contemplates by her side for a moment before speaking. "... Shall we do a double suicide?"

"What?"

He looks at her, meeting her damp eyes head-on.

"A double suicide," He asks, letting an easy smile rise to his face. "We might as well"

"What are you talking about?" The girl asks. Kyōichirō breathes in from his cigarette again, noting the redness around her eyes and the tears continuously building up in the corners even as she tries desperately to wipe them away. The hems of her sailor uniform sleeves darken as they become increasingly wet. "Gross."

"Ouch," Kyōichirō laughs softly. "But that's not an answer."

"…"

"…"

"… Okay," She says, and Kyōichirō doesn't miss how her voice trembles through her false bravado. She's looking down at the ground, at the empty school courtyard. No one was at the school anymore, and Kyōichirō had been the last one there to finish up paperwork.

Kyōichirō hums and in a single smooth movement, scales over the tall, 7-foot iron railing to stand next to her.

The railing hadn't always been so tall-- but a month after he started working here, they decided to change that.

He wonders why.

He holds out his hand to the student.

She grabs it.

Kyōichirō averts his eyes for just a moment to admire the way the clouds gather and dance overhead, how the grey sky embraces the remaining dredges of sunlight, and smothers the butt of his cigarette on the railing behind him.

"Ready when you are," He prompts.

She doesn't move.

Of course.

Kyōichirō lets her stew in her hesitation, lets her breathing become ragged, and lets her panic become palpable.

Then, when he's satisfied, he finally moves.

Kyoichiro holds up her shaking hand, her hand-print-bruised wrist, her fingers that are still intertwined with his. The difference in the length of their fingers is a jarring reminder of her youth and his age in comparison.

When he opens his mouth, a single, short sentence comes out.

"You don't actually want to die, do you?"

Her entire body is trembling.

"You've convinced yourself that you don't want to live anymore," He says. "But now, faced with a possible end, you're afraid."

"I'm not…!" She lashes out. "I'm not backing out, I…!"

But her limbs are locked together, tears are trailing down her cheeks, and she is obviously terrified.

Kyōichirō sighs.

"You don't want to die," He tells her, and grabbing her by the waist, he flings both their bodies back over to the other side of the fence. "Come on, go on home."

"Aren't you supposed to be the school counselor?!" She exclaims. "I'm going to jump. What's wrong?" She manages a shaky, challenging expression at him. "You're always going on about suicide. Chickening out?"

"I don't do double suicides with people who don't want to die."

Kyōichirō does not allow her the dignity to hide her crumbling composure and does not turn away from the twist of her lips and the smothering of her face into her skirt as she curls into a ball on the dirty concrete floor.

He still doesn't look away even as her muffled, smothered whimpers become heaving, shuddering cries, and he doesn't go to comfort her as even her body wracks with her despair.

There isn't any dignity to be had, in the first place.

This girl had just tried to jump off the roof of her school building.

She had tried to die.

That is the reality of the situation.

Kyōichirō lights another cigarette, leaning against the entrance to the stairs.

There is nothing but the sound of him lighting his cigarette and the girl's sobbing for a long while.

"... I want to become a bride," Her voice is a whisper.

Kyoichiro hums.

"I see."

"Do you think I can still become one?"

"I'm sure that there are a lot of Japanese men more than willing to marry a schoolgirl," Kyoichiro comments dryly.

"Not helping," Mori's voice is muffled by her skirt, but the atmosphere lightens.

Kyoichiro drags a long breath from the cigarette.

"... Who was it?"

Mori buries her face further into her skirt.

"... Boyfriend."

Kyoichiro cracks his neck.

"I see," He replies. "From our school?"

"Course not," She snaps at him. "there are too many crazies at our school for any boy to try anything like that."

That's true.

"Most women don't marry as virgins nowadays anyways," Kyoichiro replies. "Realistically it isn't even something to be concerned about. Be more concerned about your human rights being violated."

Mori looks up from her skirt, face puffy from crying, and wears a baffled expression.

"I know that much!" She exclaims angrily. "But I'm a normal human being who has illogical feelings, unlike you!"

Kyoichiro lets himself smile.

There we go.

"Are you a robot or something?!" She points an accusing finger at him, and her tears are slowly morphing from tears of sadness to tears of anger. "How can you be such a prick and be the school counsellor?! Who hired you?!"

Mori continues to shout him down for a while after that.

Kyoichiro lets her.

"…I'm going to the police box," She says after approximately 5 minutes, heaving and out of breath as the grey sky turns murky, dark blue, and the only specks of sunlight are the pale reflections of light off the clouds. "Will you accompany me, Taka-chan-sensei?"

He looks at her.

"Sure."

 

***

 

Of course, it all goes wrong as they near the police station.

"Grab her!" One of the men, probably a college student screams. "She's trying to report us!"

Kyōichirō's cigarette is crushed between his teeth, but his tone is mild.

"I don't suppose you'll let us go, will you?"

"And let that bitch tattle on us?" The leader spits out. "I don't think so."

Kyōichirō sighs as Mori hides behind him.

It turns into a brawl.

A fist is flying at Kyōichirō's face, and it's by pure muscle memory that he grabs the wrist and kicks the offender's knees in. It's a sickeningly familiar feeling to sink his hands into people's bodies, to have blood splatter on his face.

The next attack comes in the form of a wild grab at his neck, which he maneuvers into a throwdown on his part, and the next man is brutally kicked in the stomach with the heel of Kyōichirō's leather shoe.

Fighting makes his blood pump, and it makes him fall into old ingrained habits he's tried time and time again to abandon.

He narrowly stops himself from digging his thumbs into his next victim's eyes and instead rams the head he's holding into his knee hard enough to hear the tell-tale crack of a nose breaking.

Leaping onto the shoulders of a taller attacker, he stops himself from twisting the head right off the neck and instead forces another guy to attack the bulky man for him, before ramming their skulls together.

Kyoichiro thinks he's protecting Mori fairly well, considering his old age and lack of practice, and bystanders are already calling the police.

And then, of course, the girl is pushed into busy traffic.

Fucking shit, The first signs of a cracking conscience. 

"Mori-san!" He exclaims, reaching for her.

"Oh no you don't!"

Kyōichirō is held into an armbar, and he immediately pulls all the weight forward to throw the man into the concrete, The man screams. He must have broken something. Kyōichirō couldn't care less.

God, that took more effort than it should have. He's getting old.

An outstretched arm, and his adrenaline morphs into mild annoyance.

"Mori-san," He calls. "Get out of the way!"

It's too late, The blinking lights of a truck, and the incoming sound of police sirens, and Kyōichirō pushes the student out of the way.

Searing hot pain, and then darkness.