[Uzumaki Atagi]

Progress, not perfection

Yet another day spent in Kuwana’s hospital. Atagi was never really the anxious type, thankfully, so there was nary a thought pinging about in that skull of his regarding why he was still here instead of being shipped back home, or about his general safety when they were recovering in what was (theoretically) enemy territory. No, like usual, he was the sort who’d busy himself with more ‘practical’ things, the solving of problems or the betterment of self, both of which he oft argued could be done or found in just about any situation at all.

On this particular day, instead of laying around like a lump and lounging– as was his body’s natural instinct, its equilibrium thrown out of whack by the recent violent bodily trauma– there was an immediate issue to be cracked away on. Sitting up in the bed, sheets and blankets both had been haphazardly moved aside to end up in a little bunch to the bottom right corner of the hospital bed. Cross-legged, there was an ever-present need to shift his head or upper body, a sign of the difficult nature balancing took all by itself, eyes focused on a single point on the bed in front of him.

A boxed lunch.

Usually, someone was present to feed the fiery haired Uzumaki, considering his condition, but he had made both a decision and a declaration to try and adapt, or at least, to be given the opportunity to try and give it a go, for today.

So here he was, staring down the small, simple container of rice, vegetable, and sausage. The first hurdle had been cleared with flying colours– grasp the utensil. Inbetween the first and second toes of his right foot, he’d manage to wedge secure a fork. The operative issue at hand, though, was how to actually use it to actually stab or scoop anything. There’s a little stick out of the leg as he reaches to grab a bite’s worth of the meal, but almost immediately his balance is off again, and his upper body undulates, core flexing and eyes wide, to scramble and regain it. Instead, he whumps onto his back, the springs of the bed making noise, and the movement itself dislodging some of the lunch onto the sheets.

”Ah, man. This’s way harder than I thought it’d be, bahaha!” Atagi remarks. A small twist of the body followed by a ”Hup!” punctuates him propping himself back up, a determined look fixated on his features.

So consumed with climbing the mountain to ascend at hand that was ‘eating’, was he, that he was apt to totally miss anyone entering, at least until something wrestled away his attentions.
(Yuie Junichi)

aeron at thq

[Yuie Junichi]

Though he'd tried to convince himself this was all some kind of nightmare, reality had been refusing to adapt to that line of thinking. Despite his most desperate wishes, the situation remained the same. A couple days had passed since the end of round two. The match-ups for the third round had been announced. Junichi was going to be fighting Hotarubi.

Hotarubi, who seemed immovable. Hotarubi, who hated him. Hotarubi, who he had watched bite off a grown man's arms.

When he closed his eyes he could still see the arcs of blood and hear the soft, meaty thump of the severed limb landing in Sadako's arms.

Junichi's brother didn't seem to understand the situation here. Kenichi was really, thoroughly convinced that Junichi had a chance. Junichi, for his part, was sure that he would be better off giving up now and fleeing back home. He was only stopped by Kenichi's desperate insistence. His twin would be disappointed in him if he didn't try.

But how did he even begin to try? He didn't know what he could do against someone like Hotarubi. ...And there was only one person in the world who did know anything at all.

He had to talk himself into it - it felt rude to visit Atagi in the hospital when the two didn't really know each other at all - but there weren't many other options.

Arriving at the room, he worried outside for a minute before stepping in, just in time to watch Atagi flop onto his back. Ack! It seemed like he'd interrupted Atagi trying to eat. That seemed like a difficult task given the uhm... uh...

He had to speak before he could talk himself into awkwardly sneaking out of the room.

"Hel-hello Uzumaki-san," he greeted, bowing his head so he could pretend he hadn't seen all that. "Can I come in?"

[Uzumaki Atagi]

Progress, not perfection

He’d just about to have been reaching out yet again for another go at tackling his task, but the greeting immediately snags at Atagi’s attentions, gaze directed over to the door. ”Make yourself at home, by all means. Not like I can hold you back, yeah?” There’s a buoyant, toothy smile that rises to his features both from the prospect of a little company and from his own stupid joke alike. Gingerly, the Uzumaki rests the eating utensil at the side of the little container, then turns to sit on the side of the bed, obviously preparing to get to his feet, shimmying slightly to dislodge apart of the hospital gown that’s gotten stuck underneath him.

As he’s going about that, eyes’re directed towards Junichi, eyes flitting from one point to another on the boy, soaking up whatever immediately available information that he could. Practical looking clothing…glasses. Short of stature. And– a familiar quality. Had they met before? Atagi certainly felt like it, but. Appearances could be deceiving, doubly so among shinobi, and there’d been so many different faces and personalities which had entered the genin from the grass’s life as of the exams alone that it was difficult to narrow down just where and how.

”If you’re dropping off a gift, just over there’s fine.” An incline of the head and the raising of brows over towards the bedside table, where some potpourri and a bookmarked text rested. ”Otherwise– a pleasure to meet you, yeah? If we haven’t met before, that is.” A small puff out of the chest, exuding confidence despite his crippled state. ”Atagi Uzumaki! Of the grass, capital G. Hero aspirant, taijutsu dynamo, and girl murderer. To who…or whom? Who, it’s gotta be who. To who do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” A winning smile’s directed at Junichi, evidently completely unaware that he’s botched the (supposed) title of ‘lady killer’, finally quieting down enough that the boy might be able to get a word (or three!) in edgewise.

(Yuie Junichi)

aeron at thq

[Yuie Junichi]

Somehow, the man still had a really bubbly and personable demeanor despite all that'd happened to him. Maybe a little too bubbly and personal? He was very friendly and outright chatty and, uhm, said a few things that were really concerning, actually. At the misspoken phrase, Junichi's hesitation clearly grew as he considered just running out the door right then and there.

This... guy couldn't be a murderer, right? He must've just been making some kind of dark joke. Like maybe it was an inside joke with his friends, or...

Junichi had already worked up the nerve to come here, and Atagi had already invited him in, and he'd walk away with nothing if he didn't ask, so he just had to hope it was a joke and take a deep breath.

Inching further into the room, he eyed the place for gifts. He hadn't thought to bring one. His Auntie would be mad at him for the lack of consideration. He thought about it for a second, then pulled out a bar of soap he always carried with him, a special sweet-smelling creation of the Yuie clan, and left it with the other gifts.

Now that he finally had room to speak, he was struggling to find words. He was much less social than Atagi, and much more nervous. 

"Uhm. I'm... Yuie Junichi. I'm another competitor in the Chuunin Exams, though we hadn't met before. And, uh... I wanted to talk to you because I... I was assigned to fight Hotarubi in the next round..." His voice petered out, becoming smaller at the end. He lacked any of Atagi's bravado and it was desperately clear how afraid he was.

[Uzumaki Atagi]

Progress, not perfection

If Junichi has the sense that it seems like the Kusagakure shinobi before him is a bit too effervescent, then he’d be spot on. For as frighteningly optimistic, high-energy, and cheery that Atagi might’ve been by default, well. He’d learned that he really had to crank it up, for folk that came by to see him. Because if not, then he was liable to incur much more pity than he desired (or perhaps thought he deserved).

Of course, based on the anxious little bundle that had come into the room only seeming to get more wound up, the Uzumaki considered that his greeting, joke, or appearance hadn’t landed quite the way he’d wanted. Maybe some confluence of the three. The braincells dedicated to considering that possibility were rapidly shuffled over to instead parse what exactly it was Junichi was setting down. A bar of soap. Eyes drift to the side momentarily, and there’s a tuck of the chin against the shoulder, to sniff at himself. A shrug, then a maneuver to sit on the edge of the bed, peering searchingly at Junichi. Finally, the reveal, what his purpose here was, exactly.

”Ah! That explains why you’re so nervous– or maybe you’re just the sort who’s naturally like that? I’d say you seem a little on the young side for this stuff…but then again, there are some terrifying kids out there, so I’d never judge on appearance alone.”

It was true, there were shinobi half his age who could kill him in a series of heartbeats…that much had been made clear, watching the matches that he had.

”In that case, though. You must want some advice? Or maybe you’re wondering if he just hates me specifically, and so he wouldn’t try to maul you? Or maybe, just maybe, you want my help with some sort of plot to sabotage him before the match?”

The last one was a long shot, but Atagi knew that presenting someone as disquieted as the Yuie before him with a series of options and having him pick– or just say they were all outright wrong– was a quick way to an answer.

(Yuie Junichi)

aeron at thq

[Yuie Junichi]

Atagi said he might see Junichi as a little young for this stuff and Junichi was wildly inclined to agree. He had been doing well in his missions and training so he'd been recommended to come here, but he didn't feel the slightest bit ready. It had been seen as this great big honor and this incredible accomplishment, so he didn't want to say no, but he'd also not wanted to say yes. As ever, trapped between two bad decisions. Now he was here, facing up against these terrifying enemies... He shouldn't be here right now.

He didn't know if he'd ever really feel ready, though.

The man rattled off a few options for what Junichi might be seeking.

"I- I'm hoping for advice," he said, quickly. "I know it's not just you. He... He hated my teammate a lot. We were together in the second round and they almost got in a big fight, and we didn't have a great interaction either, and he really wanted to kill her. But I ended up beating her and she dropped out, so I- I think now he might take all of that out on me..." So there was no question in Junichi's mind that Hotarubi was going to try to tear him apart, too.

"I don't... I don't want to try to sabotage him," even if it was sorely tempting, it wasn't a very honorable thing to do, "but I just want to know... if there was anything you figured out while fighting him..."

[Uzumaki Atagi]

Progress, not perfection

Like water to someone who’d spent hours in the desert, presenting Atagi with a problem to solve and a person in need of assistance was positively revitalizing. Part of it is the putting more effort into it, assuredly, but he’s the type who exhales confidence and wears bravery as a matter of course, anyway. Swinging his legs off the edge of the bed, the incarnadine locked man springs up to his feet, body giving a mild roil to shake off the binding cobwebs of his suddenly sedentary lifestyle.

”I’m understanding the predicament, then! And your teammate, huh? I gotta wonder what the three of you got up to that was so bothersome to him, but then again, he does seem like he’s got a hair trigger, of sorts.” A mischievous smile, voice deepening a hair or three with the ability to speak from the gut, afforded by no longer sitting down.

”Sure! Plenty, really. I’ll tell you all there is to know. And I respect that sense of honour! You seem like a good kid.” A pause, not truly brief enough to organize his thoughts but at least long enough to snatch them up into a little pile.

”First things first– I’m not sure what it looked like from the spectator’s box, so this might already be obvious, but Hotarubin is extremely hard, and extremely heavy. Maybe he’s made of stone? Or it’s some sort of rock-analogous armor. But you strike at him–.” There’s a sudden movement, the Uzumaki lifting up a leg, accordioning it towards his body, then thrusting it out right into the wall. Thump. Still, his eyes never leave Junichi, even when he starts to wobble slightly from the difficulty of balancing with his foot against the wall, as it was.

”It’s like hitting a wall, yeah? Or one of those wooden dummies. Hardly any physical feedback at all, and the guy feels impossible to budge. That’s the first thing–. Oh, sorry, maybe I should’ve given you something to scribble this all down, or sommat.” Withdrawing his leg to stand proper, once more.

(Yuie Junichi)

aeron at thq

[Yuie Junichi]

Atagi sprung up from the bed. Junichi was almost guilty to make him move about, but it really seemed like the man had just been waiting for an excuse to get up and active. He had no idea how Atagi could have so much energy after what happened to him. Junichi didn't think he'd ever move again if he'd gotten ripped apart like that. Maybe it had hurt so bad that Atagi could barely even remember it? He almost hoped so.

He planted a kick to the wall, describing how Hotarubi felt incredibly hard, immovable. Like heavy stone. Maybe he had used some kind of armor technique. Junichi had one of those, though nowhere near good enough to provide such an impervious shell.

"Oh, it's- it's okay, I can remember it," Junichi assured, pulling his shoulders back to stand up straighter, showing he was really at attention. He had a decent memory, so he was sure it would be fine.

"I could kind of tell that from the spectator box. I knew he was really heavy. In the second round, we- we found out he weighed eight hundred pounds," he said, grimacing. "That was actually why Sadako and him got in a fight. She didn't believe him..." Junichi honestly still found it hard to believe, but Atagi had confirmed it. He was heavy, sturdy. Stone.

"I... I guess that means bukijutsu probably also won't work well against him," he said, dejected. That wasn't his primary focus, but it was one of his main ones, the major weapons at his disposal.

[Uzumaki Atagi]

Progress, not perfection

Atagi tilts his head to one side, a brow cocked as he’s regaled with Junichi’s explanation. Ah, right, the weight ‘puzzle’, that’s how they learned just how heavy that the waterfall shinobi was. And then…

”Oh, you came here with Muscle-girl! If I’m thinkin’ of the right one, that is. I must be, actually, now that I think about it a little more. Well, it wouldn’t do to make her sad, so– even more reason for me to make sure you’re well taken care of, yeah?” At the worry that bukijutsu wouldn’t be much use at all, the Uzumaki gives an affirmative noise from the throat, taking a few steps over and swinging his gaze over the boy. ”That’s right! Though I’m surprised you’d ask, since you yourself don’t look like the type with too much physicality. Not that you can’t, just.” Another sweeping, probing look over the blonde-topped soapslinger. It’s hardly ‘judging’, but it’s clear that Atagi’s inspecting him for hints, signs, or clues that he might be way stronger and tougher than he looks.

”Anyway, you might think that his increased density or weight or whatever means that he’s slow– but he’s actually faster than you’d think! I’m quick, myself, and pretty proud of the form I’ve carved out for myself…” He tactically ignores just how vain that might sound. ”But he at least is equivalently as fast, so. Seems like he’s the full package, when it comes to close quarters. Strong, fast, tough. Like a sack of boulders in a human-sized package with arms n’ legs. I recommend staying away from him at all times.” Giving another series of nods like a sage.

”...What kind of shinobi arts are your forte, anyway? I should’ve figured that out first, maybe I could give better advice that way.”

(Yuie Junichi)

aeron at thq

[Yuie Junichi]

Muscle-girl? Did Atagi and Sadako know each other? Given the earlier claim of... woman-murdering, that made Junichi more nervous. Was Atagi also planning on getting in a fight with her? If that was the case, maybe it was good that she'd given up and was under observation by the hospital staff. Hopefully she'd get back to the village before anything bad could happen.

Then Atagi commented he was surprised Junichi would ask about bukijutsu, saying he didn't look like a particularly physical shinobi. He... wasn't wrong. Junichi was stronger than he looked under all the tattered, fancy clothes, but it was still extremely evident that he was a late bloomer. He was short and still lacked the stronger, corded muscle that often came with puberty.

Against someone like Hotarubi, who was both fast and strong, he really did have nothing physical to offer. Still, that was half his repertoire, right down the drain. His attacks where mostly blunt force, which was better against someone rock-solid than piercing attacks would be, but if he didn't have the strength behind it to break rock, then what could he even do?

Atagi asked what his focuses were and Junichi hung his head.

"I-I mostly do ninjutsu and bukijutsu," he reluctantly admitted. Like he was afraid Atagi would laugh that someone so small would even try with a physical art. "And I mostly know suiton ninjutsu," that was the simplest way to explain it, "which isn't very good against doton..." It was a bad match-up no matter how one looked at it. Maybe if he knew raiton...

[Uzumaki Atagi]

Progress, not perfection

Something about the shyness and insecurity that Junichi practically breathes stirs at something in Atagi, a need to wipe them away, to give the boy a injection of confidence– gods know that he had more than enough to spare, anyway. ”Those ain’t bad, yeah? Weaponry’s never been my forte, but I’ve got a respect for anyone who knows how to handle shinobi tools with any degree of proficiency. If you’ve made it this far, you’ve gotta have some skill, so you don’t gotta look so bashful regarding admitting that much.” Another winning expression, delivered with as much definiteness as he could muster.

”Though! I’ve gotta say, before you start swinging or poking or throwing at Hotarubi…I’ve determined that he must not have a weak spot, yeah? I was thinking that he must, personally! Maybe his neck, or face, or underbelly…or even inside his mouth, bahaha! Alas, I think I’ve proven, scientifically, that he’s all rock-hard all the time.” Another series of sage like nods. Atagi starts animatedly pacing, and almost assuredly would’ve been touching at his chin or tugging at a beard or touching at his hair in concentration, as he continues to wrack his brain for every iota and ounce of information that could help out. Obviously, he cannot, so the pacing looks a bit silly.

”You probably already figured this part out, but the guy is a stone-cold killer, down to the bone…or whatever makes up his guts. I don’t think all Takigakure shinobi are the way he is, but he obviously has no qualms about killing someone. I might’ve provoked him, and might be a bona-fide adult…but I get the sense he’ll try and kill you too, if he gets the chance. I know that’s scary, but if you ignore the possibility out of fear and it gets you torn up, I’d never forgive myself, yeah? So I’ve gotta say it.”

(Yuie Junichi)

aeron at thq

[Yuie Junichi]

Atagi had a very confident energy. He was kind and exuberant and tried really hard to be encouraging. Even while in such a stressful situation himself, he was trying to find ways to compliment Junichi and encourage his confidence, too. It almost made Junichi feel bad for bringing down the energy, but Junichi had learned recently that he could feel bad about anything if he tried hard enough - he'd always been the more pessimistic twin.

"Sorry, I just... You mentioned that I don't look like someone with much physicality, and I... agree. Against normal bandits or other people my age I'm okay, but against most shinobi..." Against Hotarubi...

As Atagi said, Hotarubi seemingly had no weak point. Even if Junichi were amazing with weaponry there was no guarantee he could do anything to the other shinobi, no guarantee that any weapon proficiency at all would matter. Even getting that close in the first place would be a terrible idea. If he was close enough to try, he was already... already...

Junichi swallowed and nodded.

"I've been thinking about that," he confirmed for Atagi. "That he would... That he won't hesitate to kill me. That if he gets the chance, he'll do it. My... my brother doesn't want me to give up. For some reason he really thinks I can do it. But I've been considering forfeiting from the start," he confessed, shamefaced.

[Uzumaki Atagi]

Progress, not perfection

”No need to apologize, nonetheless! I’d ask, if I really wanted one. I’ve got a shameless streak, like that.” A waggish look follows, a silent understanding present about what a ridiculous thing that was to say. Atagi doesn’t cease that restless walking about, pathing over every inch of the room, it seemed, save for the handful of feet that was Junichi’s ‘personal bubble’, though even then he certainly risked popping it a few times.

Noise emanates from him– hums of thought, clicks of the tongue, a crick when he leans his neck just the right way. For a few seconds, it might’ve appeared that the Uzumaki hadn’t heard a single word that Junichi had said, when it came to coughing out those supposedly cowardly impulses and weak thoughts, laying them bare.

Finally, he stands to face Junichi again, close enough that it wasn’t him shouting across the room but not so close that he’s towering over and looking down at him, either.

”Your brother has faith in you for good reason, I’m sure. I also understand being scared, looking into the jaws of the proverbial beast.” A pursing of the lips, all but a hint of mischief vanishing from his face, tension and energy in his features spilling out as he puts up a softer expression, if one that still crawls toward being reassuring. ”But I don’t think you should give up immediately, Junichi-san. You wanna impress folk, don’t you? That’s what we’re here for, after all! To make a good showing for our villages, for those we care about– hell, complete strangers. Show muscle-girl n’ everyone else whose eyes are on you that you’re growing into a fine shinobi; doing what you can, even in a seemingly or truly hopeless situation, is a mark of any professional.” A slow inhalation through the nose, as if chattering so much has literally taken up all his breath.

”But! You seem like a good guy, and your future’s too bright to risk wantonly. So here’s what I suggest; play keep away, poke and prod and taunt and do whatever you can to him from complete safety. But if it looks like you’re getting caught in a melee? That’s when it’s alright to give up, mhm.

Frankly, ah. It’s a good thing that his first opponent was the wondermazing and phenomtastic Atagi Uzumaki, you know?” It’s hard to tell if his tone is completely free of irony or if, perhaps, there was a little bit of self-depreciation there, at insisting his amazingness when he’d been crippled for life.

”Part of my solace in the here and now is this; I may have burned myself down to the nub, however courageous or stupid it was; but in doing so, I’ve provided some light for people like you, Junichi-san.” Now that was, without the hint of a doubt, the unadulterated truth; while he wasn’t incapable of lying, Atagi’s genuine nature shone through, times like this.

(Yuie Junichi)

aeron at thq

[Yuie Junichi]

Atagi's positivity should have been reassuring, but Junichi found himself almost being frustrated by it in a way. It's not like Atagi's outlook was unrealistic, but it wasn't especially grounded, either.

Kenichi didn't have faith in Junichi for good reason. He had faith in Junichi because he still read action comics and short stories and thought that he was the immortal hero, and that Junichi was his dependable sidekick who could get into trouble but never really get hurt. Because he thought the good guys always won in the end, and even if they got beat up, it was some inspiring character moment and not just a terrible thing that happened to them.

He talked a lot like Kenichi, in fact. ...Would Kenichi stay like this? Grow into an adult and still think this way, just like Atagi? Junichi felt a sudden crushing sense that Atagi couldn't help him, because his kind of thought was the exact reason he was in this situation at all. He'd had his arms ripped off, and he was still talking about Junichi making a good showing! As if there was any world where that was his priority right now!

The wondermazing and phenomtastic Atagi Uzumaki, who had been torn apart for the audience, or for his village, or for his own self-perception... Was any of it worth it? Junichi didn't care about any of those things. All he wanted was to make it home to Kenichi and his aunt.

"...We don't know," Junichi said, the tension that had been building through Atagi's entire little ramble rolling off him in waves now. "We don't know if it's safe for me to even fight him far away. If he uses some kind of strong doton armor, that would be a ninjutsu, not a taijutsu. He could specialize in ninjutsu. He could have all kinds of long-range attacks you never even saw."

He felt bad saying it, because it was clear Atagi wanted his injury to mean something, for it to be some heroic sacrifice that would save whoever fought Hotarubi next. He could imagine his brother saying the exact same things. For the first time in the conversation, Junichi's meek and quiet demeanor gave way to a more frustrated energy.

"I heard a rumor when I visited Sadako in the hospital that he tried to come in to kill you and had to be dragged out. He wants someone dead. If he's really this cold- cold, calculated killer, he's not going to do the same thing twice. He won't go for my arms. He'll go for my head or-" Junichi's pace broke and he took a big, shaky breath, trying really hard not to cry. He pushed up his glasses to rub at his eyes. What a selfish thing, to offload on Atagi like this when he was the one going through something terrible. He just wished Atagi was angrier, or more frustrated, or anything at all to make his own feelings not feel so pathetic.

"...My brother... If I get hurt so badly I can't be a shinobi anymore or- or die in this fight, he's going to get himself killed. He... he treats missions like kids games. He thinks he's going to be the strongest shinobi ever, and go rescue our parents from wherever he thinks they're being held prisoner, and... I can't leave him alone. ...Does it make me a bad shinobi, if I care more about that than showing what I can do?"

[Uzumaki Atagi]

Progress, not perfection

Even if that ever-present smile etched on the features of the Kusa-nin's face never quite disappears, never truly, always a ghost of it even if the rest of his features warped to pain or fear or loathing or loss-- it can falter. A quirk, a small one, at Junichi starting to crack, the thin glass shell of a boy who was still, indeed, just a boy, Atagi recalls, plucking that fact from the tempest of his inner thought, spirit swirling with winds of emotion, gales of duty, and squalls of principle, and tucks that idea close to his chest where it won't be lost again.

Junichi is just a boy, shinobi or not, one who's faced with the prospect of losing life or limb, who has a brother who both adores him, expects to be adulated, and who he has to take care of. One who probably hasn't had a first love or kiss or kill or dance or seen the world or met people he's s'posed to or a million other formative experiences, someone who by my eyes has yet to so much as sprout the first hairs at his chin or lip, who I'm asking to be terribly, awfully, disgustingly brave. And for what? So that he can end up like me? Gods, some inspiring figure I am.

There’s a desire to hug the boy in front of him, to take Junichi into his arms and squeeze him tight, to implore him not to cry and that everything’ll be okay, that the sun always rises in the morrow even when the dark of night seems never ending. Of course, the fact that he can’t do anything more than shift at the nubs on either shoulder is a painful reminder of the darkness that crept into his own day, at the edges of his vision, staved off by a sort of obstinate insistence on optimism. It takes a few seconds for the Uzumaki to parse what the other boy’s said, then a few more to process and procure a response. There’s a softness at his features, and that low baritone of his which sometimes grated rough was smoothed down, measured out, and poured into little dosages of kindness.

”Absolutely not.” Is what he opens with, in response to Junichi’s query about whether he’s a good or bad shinobi, let alone a good or bad anything at all, for prioritizing that which he did. A scoff, not denigrating but certainly incredulous, and then the cock of an eyebrow which seemed to want to exit Atagi’s forehead entirely. ”And even if it did make you a bad shinobi in the eyes of anyone, I’d sooner gouge out those eyes than let such injustice be present in our world. Of course you need to be able to get back home! To take care of those close to us is the very essence of being a shinobi, isn’t it? To protect, to care for, to do things in the greater service of family, friends, lovers, countrymen– everything else, even this competition, you should see as mere window dressing and motivation for that. Our lives aren’t our own, and that’s something that can both be an immeasurable weight and something that lightens the spirit. It’s something so important that a lot of people never so much as breathe a thought about, so the fact that you, at your age, have grasped its importance…well. Don’t let it go, yeah?”

Why did he always end up giving speeches, it felt like? Atagi Uzumaki couldn’t go a day without asserting some aphorism or saying that which he deemed sagacious, it felt like. There’s a little pang in the chest, a twinge of something that feels like a twisting of an organ. Hurt? Regret? Guilt?

Ah, it’s that…I don’t have anyone like that, do I? Someone who I desperately need to return home to in one piece. Maybe that’s why I missed it at first.

Now’s not the time or place to sink into such thoughts, though. Later, when all his visitors are gone and he’s sleepless, thinking of a girl with pink hair like candyfloss, or perhaps of his birthplace, of parents and a sibling he hadn’t seen in over a decade, he could return to that line of thinking, grasp it and let it pull him up toward the surface or down deeper into an abyss.

For now, though…

”I’ve said my advice, and I stand by it. I think there’s more to you than you think, Junichi-san. I’ve got good eyes, that way. Honest hero’s eyes, perhaps.” Even if he usually believed it, there’s an obvious bit of mischief creeping into his voice again, adding a tiny bit of levity to a situation where one boy was about to sob. It was his nature, to try and fix or assuage or take care of even and perhaps especially when he wasn’t asked. ”But. If you don’t follow your heart and stick to your guns, you’ll lose yourself, mn. And I rather like Yuie Junichi, personally, so do make sure he sticks around for the long haul, yeah?” There’s that exuberant, triumphant smile again, wandering a tiny bit closer. ”I’d hug you, now, but ah…well.” The smile dims a tiny bit, then brightens again, more than before, in an obvious concerted effort.

(Yuie Junichi)

aeron at thq