[hirana kizumi]

A HEART'S A HEAVY BURDEN

The chuunin exams had been… interesting, to say the least. Kizumi was less than thrilled with how the second round had been conducted, with no onlookers allowed except for the participants and the proctors. If anything happened, if anything went wrong, there would be no one to intervene except for the proctors themselves. At the risk of sounding unkind, she didn’t exactly trust any of the Iwagakure nin to act in good faith for the health and well-being of any of the ninja not belonging to their little alliance-clique. The whole thing put a bad taste in her mouth. And for good reason, it turned out. Some kid from Kusa lost both arms at the shoulders. Katsuo— She couldn’t think about Katsuo. He was fine, he got a prosthetic put in. Akemi would be pissed, but he was fine. Every piece of information from the second round she got secondhand, either from Azarea or one of the boys. From what it sounded like, despite the vibe-killer of a double amputation, all of her genin had put in a good effort, done their best, showed their stuff. She had questions about Yamamoto Shosuke. Most of his fight against Uchiha Miroru—Leaf girl, redhead, super cute—had been… less of a fight and more of a conversation, and then he’d surrendered. Wasn’t super clear why. She wasn’t angry, not by a long shot. That all of her kids made it out in more or less decent shape was enough to be grateful for, and that so many made it to the second round was enough to make her swell with pride. There was nothing shameful about what had been accomplished at this event. Still, Kizumi felt… concerned. Compelled to check in, at least. It was late afternoon, sun hanging vibrant and orange and low in the sky. Kizumi made her way to Shosuke’s room at the hotel and knocked three times on his door, crisp and clear. "Shosuke-kun?” she called, loud enough to be heard through the closed door. "It’s Kizumi. Can I borrow you for a chat?”

Yamamoto Shosuke -- 344

LAIKA OF THQ

[Yamamoto Shosuke]

It was a good thing for both of them that Kizumi had chosen to delay speaking to Shosuke at least until the end of the exams. It gave Shosuke time to process his actions and what he had done, and whether or not it had been a good decision.

Shosuke's loyalty to the village was never in question, could never be in question. Between his volunteering to serve in the front-line medical center during the earthquake, or the way that he had chosen to team up with and aid another genin from Kumogakure during the first round, Shosuke had proven time and time again that he would go above and beyond in order to help the village that he loved so dearly.

However, considering that, it begged the question as to exactly why he had surrendered.

Those who were in the know would recognize Miroru as an enormous threat, both politically and to life and limb. She was a Jinchuuriki, the host of a tailed beast, someone who had the power and willingness to tear anyone and everyone into pieces should she choose to. Against Shosuke, she would have had no trouble destroying him and leaving him in pieces in her wake, giving him the same treatment Hotarubi had given Atagi from the Hidden Grass.

Yet, from all available sources, that was not what had happened. Shosuke had seemed entirely willing and ready to fight to the bitter end, even donning a gasmask to use some sort of airborne technique. Perhaps poison, perhaps something else. Yet, after but a brief moment, he had taken off the gasmask without doing a thing and had simply surrendered, leaving the arena.

Everything about the incident seemed confusing to outsiders - The sudden change of mind, the dismissal, the anger and frustration on the boy's face that would have surely in other situation led to continuing the fight. Hell, the boy had then gone and been assigned to the girl's make-shift team in order to perform some international cooperation in the month between the two rounds, taking out a known threat to the Hidden Leaf and earning a small amount of recognition for the act.

It was no wonder it left the Raikage in such a confused state.

---

When Kizumi knocked on the door, Shosuke had been packing up his things in the room that he had been lent for the exams. The room was makeshift and small, as were all rooms for genin attending the exams. Yet, his was even more so, filled as it was with mountains of errata littering the room. They were books, mobile medical equipment, small potted plants - All of it looked like Shosuke had been working himself to the bone, attempting to grow stronger and develop as a ninja.

As she knocked on the door, he looked up at it, hearing the familiar sound of the Raikage's voice. A hard lump appeared in his throat, swallowing it down and moving to the door obediently.

What she saw of the genin was not good.

Shosuke looked exhausted, black rings under his eyes thick enough to be a second pair of glasses. His eyes were red, although looking less like he had been crying and more a simple lack of sleep. His hands were calloused and his clothes were soaked in sweat. Black ink still smeared across his hands as if he had been writing erratically. He was wearing simple, basic clothing instead of the usual lab coat that he was known for.

"Lady Raikage," Shosuke said, bowing his head respectfully. Or, perhaps, he was simply finding it difficult to look her in the face right now. "I'm sorry. I would invite you in but I still need to clear it before we leave. Is there something I can do?"

624 words | hirana kizumi

SPOILER: Click to show

Jutsus Used: None

[hirana kizumi]

A HEART'S A HEAVY BURDEN

Shosuke looked like shit. "Oh, sweetheart,” Kizumi said—completely involuntary and full of entirely too much pity. In retrospect, likely not the best thing she could have said, or the best way she could have said it in, but gods, he looked awful. "You look exhausted.” Her good eye slid between the teenager and the room that lay behind him, half-packed and still brimming with books, equipment, the bits and bobs of someone hard at work. Too hard at work, from the look of him. Options. She didn’t know Shosuke well enough to say what the best choice would be, or even what a good choice would be, but she knew the look of someone in crisis. Maladapting, at the very least. He needed direction, support. Someone to make him take a shower and put him to bed. She should have come sooner. "I don’t care about a mess, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said gently. "I wanted to check in, ask how you’re doing. Would you be more comfortable talking here or somewhere else? I haven’t broken down my office yet—or we can go get something to eat. Coffee?” Letting him decide where and if there was food in his belly seemed like the best course of action. If it were up to her, she’d get him out of his room; a change of environment usually helped clear the mind. On the other hand, making him go out in the open in a foreign nation might just make him feel more vulnerable, and forcing him to go to her office could make him think he was going to receive some kind of disciplinary action. There was no way for her to divorce herself from her station at this point. But her duty now wasn’t to question a genin of her village, but to take care of a teenage boy under her care. She only hoped that she could make that clear.

Yamamoto Shosuke -- 323

LAIKA OF THQ

[Yamamoto Shosuke]

Shosuke might have looked like shit, but that was nothing compared to the way that he felt.

Though he had never known Kizumi on a personal level, if she had ever heard stories about Sho she would have known that being a workaholic was in his nature. He had an incredible work ethic, and had dedicated himself to his duty to the village ever since taking up the headband just over a year ago. Even so, this was a whole other level, clearly triggered by the events that had happened during the exams.

"You're... asking me to get something to eat? The Raikage is asking me to get food with them?" Sho asked, clearly unable to quite understand that that was indeed what she was saying.

It wasn't like this was the first time he was dealing with this level of person, he had helped medicate and treat the hangover of the Lady of Kusagakure, but that had been because he was the only doctor on hand that day.

This was different, this was far more personal.

What did she want with him? Was she here to lambast him for his mistakes? Was she here to recruit him to some new mission like the one he did with Miroru?

No, that didn't require her to come in person, not even if it was super secretive or dangerous. If she wanted to yell at him, she didn't have to get him food, she could have done it here and now. Which meant that it was something else.

But what could it be? The thought that she was legitimately just concerned about him didn't even cross his mind, unused to having people worry about him rather than the other way around. He was a doctor, but he was unfamiliar with being treated like a patient.

"Of course, if you want me to get food with you, that's my duty as a member of your village. Though I'm sure there are better uses for your time - I'm not much of a conversationalist and I'm pretty boring as people go.

If you need me to perform some duty, you need not be so generous with your time - whatever you need me to do, I'll do it."

There was something about the way that he said that... it was like a kicked puppy, earnestly attempting to please and not cause any further issues. Far different than he had been with Azarea or with Atagi, though she had no reason to know that.

416 words | hirana kizumi

SPOILER: Click to show

Jutsus Used: None

[hirana kizumi]

A HEART'S A HEAVY BURDEN

Kizumi restrained a wince. Some of the shinobi erred on the side of over-formality ever since she’d been given the hat, but for the most part she was able to dissuade people from being too formal. Shosuke was on another level altogether. My duty as a member of your village. She hated to think of this as an obligation for him, but—honestly, if it got him out of this room, then whatever worked was what worked. "Nope, no mission for ya,” she said. She nearly turned to leave, but… in for a penny, right? If phrasing it as an order got him to do the things he needed to do to get out of this room, then she could do that much. "Take a minute to freshen up and change, alright? I’ll wait here, and we’ll go when you’re ready.” Splash of water to the face, change of clothes, food in the tummy. A natural remedy for a bad headspace, fine-tuned to an art over the years. Once he re-emerged, she would lead the way to a cozy little cafe just down the street, order coffee and an assortment of snacks for the both of them. It was a sit-down place but didn’t have waitstaff, so ideally they wouldn’t be interrupted during their conversation. She sat casually, one leg crossed over the other at a jaunty angle as she doctored the life out of her coffee: absurd amounts of sweetener and cream until it was a sad, sandy beige. "I really want you to be honest with me, Shosuke,” she said, stirring her coffee. "No judgment, hand to heart. How are you feeling?”

Yamamoto Shosuke -- 275

LAIKA OF THQ

[Yamamoto Shosuke]

If Kizumi had looked even slightly into Shosuke, she would probably have expected something like this. He was someone who had dedicated his life to duty, trying to save others and help as many as he could. He had been carried aloft by his family and by the village for so long that it was only natural, in his estimation, to be formal and deferential to those who had more experience.

Not to mention the fact that the Yamamoto prided themselves in respecting their elders since they were the greatest living repository of knowledge, so for him to be like this was almost typical.

Even so, it was clear that he was overcompensating, trying to cover for his failure by attempting to be as respectful as possible. He had let the village down and he knew that, it was etched into every inch of his face. Given that, how could he not try and be respectful?

"Yes ma'am." Sho nodded, slipping back into his room and closing the door behind him.

It took only a few moments, but when he returned, Sho looked... better. To a certain degree of better, at least. There were certain symptoms that simply didn't go away, like the black rings around his eyes so thick and numerous that he resembled the trunk of a tree, but at the very least his hair was no longer lank. His glasses were cleaned, his clothes were changed, and he looked at least able to go into society without getting looks from other people.

As Kizumi seemed to take over their direction, Sho followed politely, not saying a word unless he was spoken to. After all, he was just a Genin and she was the Kage. The sheer gap between their positions was insane to even consider trying to broach through something as simple as a conversation.

It wasn't until she spoke again that he piped up, and even then it seemed like there was a delayed response.

"How am I feeling?" he asked, trying to force a smile on his face. "I think if you're not careful, you're going to need to be checked for diabetes. That amount of sugar isn't good for you, ma'am, and..."

he paused, trailing off midway through his sentence. He couldn't do this. She had asked him how he genuinely felt and whilst he could deflect if it was anyone else, he could put the smile on if it was Atagi or Miroru or even Azarea. But this was his leader, and she was asking him for his genuine feelings. It would be wrong to lie.

Even so...

"... How am I feeling?" he reiterated, this time slower and a little shakier. "If you'll pardon the language... I'm fucking furious.

I gave up my position as a Doctor at the hospital, I trained for months in order to get here, I passed the first two tests with flying colours. All, of course, things that are not going to be observed or discussed. But when I get the chance to stand on the grand stage?

They pair me with my best friend's little sister. They ask me, in front of the world, to assault a twelve year old. A twelve year old who's done nothing wrong. A twelve year old who I care about by proxy. They ask me to betray my best friend and beat her little sister up on nothing but their say-so.

I swore to my entire clan that I would make up for my years of cowardice. I trained under Azarea and with Hana and with people from other villages all so I could make up for my failings. And when everyone gets the chance to show off what they're capable of? They gave me the choice to either beat a child into unconsciousness or to surrender."

There was a clear fury at the unfairness of that, at the idea that he wasn't given a proper fight or a show of skill but instead a moral choice. Sure, he knew that Miroru could put up a good fight and honestly that in a fair fight she might even win. But to even engage in that in the first place... There was no winning in that fight. You either lost as a person or lost as a fighter, and that was the end of it.

"You remember that village you sent me to help recover from the earthquake? People died in that and I couldn't save them. I saved everyone I could, but it wasn't enough. Even some of the people I treated medically went on to suffer complications.

In order to save more people next time, I need to grow stronger, I need to be better. But when I get a chance to show that I'm improving, that I'm worth taking seriously? They publicly humiliate me for no reason other than that I'm there!"

People were staring now. Sho could feel it, the warm heat on his back that came from being a spectacle. It was lucky that Kizumi had chosen a place of relative quietude but even here people couldn't stop looking at the man, no, child having an emotional outburst. 

"I know it was just a random luck of the draw. This isn't some grand conspiracy. I know that. I'm not worth conspiring against. But... how am I supposed to return to my family with nothing to show for this but a stain on the family name?"

909 words | hirana kizumi

SPOILER: Click to show

Jutsus Used: None

[hirana kizumi]

A HEART'S A HEAVY BURDEN

Sugar, alcohol, thick bread, red meat: vices, all of them, but Kizumi had been in this business long enough to know that she could take nothing for granted, and so she indulged as she pleased. Teenagers scolding her for her dietary habits felt as familiar and comfortable as pulling on an old, cozy sweater, and so she only smiled at Shosuke’s gentle rebuke… until his face just seemed to crumble, the pretense giving way to impotent fury. Her smile faded, schooling her expression into a careful neutrality as she listened. Listening was her role here, and so she didn’t interrupt; it was clear that this was something he needed to get off his chest. But she had to put some pieces of the puzzle into context as he spoke, assigning names to roles and recalling as best she could what she’d been told of the second round. No spectators had been permitted, not even the village leaders, so she’d had to get bits and pieces of the story from the boys and Azarea. Shosuke had been paired up with the foxling from Konoha: Azarea’s imouto, that darling little redhead, quick as a flash and twice as spirited. Shosuke asked if she remembered the village, and she nodded. Of course she remembered. It hadn’t been the worst of what she’d seen in her career, not by a long shot, but the devastation lingered in the back of her mind long after the fact. People were staring, but Kizumi didn’t especially care. If bypassers didn’t have the decency to afford a little grace to a teenager in crisis, that was their problem, not hers, and certainly not Shosuke’s. She exhaled slowly as she brought her cup to her lips, cooling the liquid down—not that it was hot anymore, with the amount of cream she’d added to it. She took a sip, and she pushed a small plate of pastries across the table towards the young genin, and in response to his final, massive, existential overwhelm of a question she simply said: "Eat, baby. Get something in your system.” For a moment she paused, trying to put her words together into something that didn’t feel like shoving her foot in her mouth. Insecurity was the main issue here: that he’d been wronged, that he hadn’t done enough, that he wasn’t good enough. A stain on the family name. "Put a pin in the beating a child thing,” she said, leaning back and resting her elbow on the back of her chair. "I wanna come back to that. But, in Kikai—people died, yeah. You couldn’t save them. I couldn’t save them. Azarea, Shigure, Eri, Daisuke—our fucking jinchuuriki couldn’t save them.” She laughed, briefly, dry and humorless and utterly morbid. "But you did what you could. I saw what you were dealing with in that tent, how hard you were working, how many people were relying on your competence, your cool head, your direction. A lot more people would have died if you weren’t there, and that counts for a lot more than what you’re giving yourself credit for. "You can’t save everyone, Shosuke. You can’t win every fight. Sometimes you just get dealt a shit hand, you gotta pick between shit A and shit B, everything is bad, and you have to live with the consequences. Learning how to navigate that, and shoulder it with grace, is a more valuable skill than anything you’d be able to show off in an arbitrary round of spectator sport. "There’s no stain on the family name. If anyone has an issue with how you conducted yourself, that’s their problem, not yours—as long as you behaved in a way that felt correct to you, that felt morally sound and reasonable to you as a person and as a Yamamoto and as a shinobi of Kumogakure, then that’s good enough for me.” A wry smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I would hope that your standards aren’t higher than mine.”

Yamamoto Shosuke -- 663

LAIKA OF THQ

[Yamamoto Shosuke]

For a moment, for a very brief moment, the words coming out of Kizumi's mouth was enough to shock Sho out of his state of dejection, that feeling of frustration and irritation that had soaked into his very bones. It wasn't so much a surprise that she cared about him, she was the kage, it was her duty to care about her men. But to call him baby? For a moment, it felt less like she was his boss, his superior officer, and more like she was some distant aunt here to give homely advice.

Social development was something that Sho had long since struggled with. He wasn't someone who struggled to make relationships with colleagues and his superiors, they almost always recognized him as a hard worker, someone who tried their best, but the issue was when it came to being more than that. He struggled to recognize attempts to cross that gap, it was why his bedside manner struggled so much with patients.

Sho was a kind, selfless person, but to say he was socially gifted would be a flagrant lie. Honestly, it probably said more about Azarea and Atagi that they had managed to put up with him long enough to become "friends" than it did about Sho.

Even so, materteral or not, the fact remained that this elevation of his mood only lasted until she continued talking, expounding on the situation that he now found himself in.

"You don't get it... All of you? You, Azarea, Eri? You're soldiers, your job is to save people before the problems even crop up. But me? I'm a doctor, its my job to save people after the worst has already happened.

Even with as strong as I've become since joining the shinobi corps, I still can't save anyone directly, but recovery? That was supposed to be my field. So every single person we failed to recover from that place? That was down to our rescue teams. Or, more accurately, as the only doctor on the field? That was down to me.

If someone has a heart attack at work, you don't blame their workmates for delivering them to the hospital too slow. You blame the doctors for failing to bring them back. Or, at least, most people do. They might claim otherwise, but they do, even if only subconsciously"

At this he paused for a moment, letting his words hang in the air. In the interim, he took one of the pastries from the plate and bit into it. It wasn't elegant, it certainly wasn't pretty, in fact it looked downright feral. Tearing hunks of it from the main chunk, like a dog pulling apart the corpse of some small animal. This wasn't savoring the food, this was someone who clearly hadn't eaten a proper meal in a long time taking in sustenance.

"Look; I get it, alright? I get that none of this was my fault, that I simply had to take the best option available to me. I don't regret not beating up Miroru, she's a good kid. But that doesn't mean I'm blind to how this looks. I refuse active service out of the academy and the first real fight I get I surrender, looking like some bleeding heart pacifist.

I confirmed every single rumor about me out there; that I'm weak, that I'm afraid, that I'm not worthy of inheriting my clan."

The rumor mill... there were worse things for someone to be accused of, in the grand scheme of things. Even still, one could not ignore the rumors were there. A lot of people looked at him and saw someone who had abandoned his classmates, who had forsaken the village, who had chosen to run and hide in the hospital rather than do his duty. After all, if he'd just wanted to follow in the footsteps of his family, he could have simply apprenticed from the start.

Why had he even bothered training as a shinobi in the first place if he wasn't going to use it?

Then came her final words. As she spoke, Sho's face changed into one of slight incredulity, as if he was finding it hard to believe.

"No offense, Lady Kizumi, but my standards have to be higher than yours. Even you at your worst is almost infinitely better than me at my best. In your career, how many people have you saved, either directly or indirectly? Do you even know? Now compare that to what I've failed to live up to.

There's a reason only one person sitting at this table is a hero."

There was no denying it. Even though his words could be construed as somewhat rude, it was clear that he saw her as a genuine hero, as someone worth idolising. Someone who epitomized what it was supposed to mean to be a Shinobi. In contrast, his outlook on himself... it could almost be viewed as self-hatred. Antipathy. Resentment for what he had allowed himself to become.

Between the two of them, the difference was as clear as night and day.

836 words | hirana kizumi

SPOILER: Click to show

Jutsus Used: None

[hirana kizumi]

A HEART'S A HEAVY BURDEN

Only one person sitting at this table is a hero. Her nose wrinkled despite her best efforts to keep her expression neutral; she’d been in this career too long to attach any kind of sense of nobility or heroism to the bloody work she’d dedicated her life to. Any day that she got to help someone was a good day. More often than not, she was just resigned to the brutality of it all. All for the greater good, in service to hearth and home, et cetera; but hero wasn’t a title she could claim. Not with the blood on her hands. "I’ve killed more people than I’ve saved,” Kizumi said, quite bluntly. "If we’re talking about our respective impacts on the world at large, yours is far more positive than mine.” Sure, there was probably some roundabout way to justify it; protecting a village of innocents from roving bandits, or killing pirates interrupting the shipment of critical medical supplies, or eliminating some serially violent nuke-nin who had taken up residence in-country. That kind of perspective was what helped her sleep at night, but a death was a death. She sighed heavily, leaning back in her seat. "You’re so worried about how it all looks,” she said. "Others blaming you for not being able to treat hundreds of patients at once, or that you look like a pacifist, or that your clan thinks you’re not worthy.” She couldn’t pretend to understand the ins and outs of clan politics, especially the Yamamoto’s uniquely strange way of handling their affairs. To some degree she knew it was important, but she just couldn’t fathom why. "You’re telling me you get it, but I don’t think you do, baby.” The words may have been harsh, but they were delivered gently, empathetically. Her concern was clear: her lone crimson eye creased at the corner, her mouth drawn into a flat line of worry. "Are you really that concerned about your reputation, what others think of you, or are you just afraid that the worst of what others think of you is the truth?”

Yamamoto Shosuke -- 348

LAIKA OF THQ

[Yamamoto Shosuke]

It seemed that Shosuke and Kizumi had fundamentally incompatible concepts of what it meant to be a "hero". Kizumi was clearly caught up in the notion of morals and "good" vs "evil", whereas to Shosuke? It was far more like the concept of an idol, something for people to look up to and find strength in. Something that kept people going in the hard times.

You don't become kage of any village without having that to some degree, physical strength was one thing but if one couldn't earn political support then they would end up nowhere near the office.

"... You can't possibly believe that, ma'am." Shosuke said, his tone at this point pretty openly incredulous. There was something about the way that he spoke that made it seem like he wasn't just being rude, or brusque, but more like she had just said something that was categorically impossible, like that yellow was blue or that three equaled seven.

"Every shinobi has killed people, it's in the job description. If that precludes you from having a "good" impact on the world, then nobody amongst your ranks is a good person.

You have done so much for this village and for everyone in it, and if that doesn't balance out a few deaths in the line of duty? Then nothing does, and we're just as damned as you are."

It was strange; Shosuke seemed more than capable of giving out compliments, sincere and honest as they were, but the moment that he tried to turn that eye inwards it landed on nothing. There seemed to genuinely be nothing about himself that Shosuke liked, or at least that he was able to pull out and point to as something he liked about himself. Perhaps this was the natural result of being stuck in your own brain for far too long.

When she spoke, however, Shosuke paused. It looked like he was about to say something, as if it was sitting on the very tip of his tongue, but it was reluctant to come out. Frustrated, he took a another bite from the pastry - it was honestly pretty disgusting, clearly it had been intended to have stuff spread on it to cover the taste but on its own it just tasted... dry. Like a desert in the mouth. He chewed it, pushed it about in his mouth as if he was trying to chew it to something palatable, but in the end he barely managed to swallow it as he choked down the lump.

"... Does it have to be one or the other?"

A pause lingered for a moment, hanging in the air like a bat from the surface of a cave.

"Why can't it be both? You're right, ma'am; A lot of this frustration comes from me. I'm not doing enough, I'm tired of watching people die on me. I'm tired of feeling like I can't do enough, that I can't stop good people from getting hurt, that its my fault people are dead. But i hate it all the more when the rest of the world agrees with me. When they call me out, they validate every negative thing that I feel about myself."

Just moments earlier, when he had been all fire and brimstone, it seemed he had had little issue meeting her gaze. Now, however, his eyes slid off and fell to the side, looking at anything else but her.

"That's why I joined the Shinobi corps again in the first place. When you put someone on a medical table, there are only ever two results - they survive or they die.

The odds of either outcome vary from case to case, and sometimes just because someone survives doesn't mean they're okay. They might lose a limb, or become blind, or be the only survivor of an incident. There are a million other sub-results of that outcome, but on a macro level? That's what it comes down to - live or die.

I grew tired of those being the options. When I was given the option? I chose it cos I wanted to avoid those being the results, to stop things from ever having to escalate that far. But it seems like no matter how hard I work, that's my only options.

Either maintain the status quo until they get put in front of me again, or have them die on me.

When you go to the hospital, you may go out better than you come in, but never quite as good as you WERE. Its a losing game, a choice between being worse off or being dead. That's all medicine is, at the end of the day."

776 words | hirana kizumi

SPOILER: Click to show

Jutsus Used: None

[hirana kizumi]

A HEART'S A HEAVY BURDEN

Shosuke was so disbelieving that Kizumi wondered for a moment if she had severely misstepped—or if her reputation was honestly just a lot more positive than she realized. Territory that came with the hat, maybe; Kage was a hefty title, and a lot of people tended to assume it had been earned somehow. She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that it was more politically complex than that; that the Daimyo and his court had ulterior motives. But the mythology, clearly, was doing some work on her behalf. If that precludes you from having a "good" impact on the world, then nobody amongst your ranks is a good person. It was close enough to the truth, though she didn’t know if Shosuke realized exactly how close it was. Maybe that was for the best—as sunk in his own doubt and self-hatred as he seemed to be, that stroke of idealism was a glimmer of hope in the mire. Shosuke wouldn’t look her in the eye, now. She watched him carefully, trying to catch his gaze, read the emotions bubbling beneath his words. "You’re so much like Daisuke,” she said thoughtfully. "You expect so much from yourself that you can never live up to the image you’ve constructed of who or what you think you’re supposed to be. If it isn’t perfection, it’s failure, and your self-esteem’s already got one foot in the grave.” She leaned forward, scrutinizing him. "When are you going to stop pummeling your own corpse?” Kizumi dug around in one of the pouches at her hip for a moment, yoinking out a couple of flasks that smelled distinctly of alcohol before producing a small notebook, over half its pages swollen with scribbled ink and old coffee stains. She flipped to a blank page towards the back, and pushed it across the table towards Shosuke, tossing a pen alongside it. "I know you don’t want to quit,” she said. She was blunt, direct—though no less caring for how straightforward she was being. Now that they were getting to the root of the matter, she thought, maybe they could make some progress. "You wouldn’t be so hard on yourself if you weren’t in this one hundred percent. What you need are actionable goals. You aren’t going to do better by working yourself to the bone or flagellating yourself for every life you’re not able to save—you need to think about what you as an individual are able to accomplish in the short-term. You can’t save everyone. Focus on what you can do. Tell me what you’re good at. Write it down.”

Yamamoto Shosuke -- 434

LAIKA OF THQ

[Yamamoto Shosuke]

... So much like Daisuke? Shosuke assumed she meant her secretary, a comparison he had to admit that he was genuinely quite surprised by. He had only ever met the man once, six months or so by his reckoning. It was a funny meeting - he was still so full of jitters from having only just signed up that he had researched the man and brought him tea and donuts that he thought the man would like in order to bribe him to train with him. The rest of their time together was honestly a bit of a blur that he didn't remember much of, but even still...

He had to assume that there was more to the comparison than their similar ages, but beyond that there wasn't much overlap that Shosuke could see. He didn't know the man very well, but the man had always seemed kind of flighty? He had the skill and dedication to be able to act flippant and even rather cold at times, but there was something there that he could respect. Though, perhaps simply from his own flawed perception of the situation, Shosuke simply couldn't compare himself to someone like that.

He certainly didn't have the skill nor the patience to become a Sage Apprentice. Senjutsu was a powerful, esoteric art, but it was also a bunch of waiting around and allowing others to do your work for you, two things Shosuke was growing to detest more and more by the day.

"Supposed to be?" Shosuke asked, clearly unsure about the words that came out of her mouth.

"There is no supposed to - I've not got a great destiny like Daisuke, there is no version of my life where I become a Sage or a Great Hero of the village. I'm just talking about the basic requirements of being a good person; of putting your money where your mouth is, of keeping promises and living up to potential. You speak as if I imagine myself as some great leader and the fact that I'm so weak and powerless is making me petulant.

I just want to be worth everything that's gone into making who I am."

It was a simple wish, a wish to pay others back for what they had given him, to live up to their expectations. But it was also perhaps something that was simply beyond him at this stage. How was he going to do that after five years of failure? Those who hated him for his "betrayal" still hated him, and so he couldn't forgive himself if they wouldn't. It was as simple as that.

However, it was then when she passed over the book, much to Shosuke's confusion. She wanted him to... what, write down his accomplishments? What he was good at? But...

... but there wasn't anything.

He wasn't as good a Doctor as the rest of his clanmates. He wasn't as good at ninjutsu as Azarea despite ostensibly being the same rank. He wasn't even a good student, every teacher he had had had grown exhausted by him by now. What was he supposed to put?

"What do you expect me to put, exactly?" Shosuke asked, his voice quiet but earnest. "I don't HAVE anything to brag about. I can throw together a few jutsu, but so can everyone else in the village. I can give a person medical treatment, but so can every person in the Kumogakure hospital, and they can do it a damned sight better than I can. Unless you want a page that just reads the word "Wood release", I don't understand..."

602 words | hirana kizumi

SPOILER: Click to show

Jutsus Used: None

[hirana kizumi]

A HEART'S A HEAVY BURDEN

Kizumi took a long, long draw of her now ice-cold coffee: an opportunity to rid herself of her budding frustration, so that none of it would leak free when she spoke. For such an intelligent boy, he was being so incredibly obtuse, and Kizumi was actively fighting the part of herself that wanted to whack him upside the head with her notebook until he saw sense. "I said tell me what you’re good at,” Kizumi said, extraordinarily careful to draw on all of her reserves of patience. "Not what are you better than other people at. Someone else having a skill doesn’t negate your own, and your interpretation and application of that same skill is always going to be uniquely yours, and worthwhile for that reason alone. There is no one in the village like you, Shosuke. There’s only you. That alone is a strength.” She rolled her neck idly, a loud series of alarming crackles and pops echoing from her spinal cord. Her face scrunched up at the sound. "Daisuke doesn’t have a destiny either, baby. No one does. His life is the result of his efforts and of Kaede’s efforts and the efforts of everyone who ever raised or taught him or made him breakfast. So is mine. So is yours. Everything that’s gone into making you who you are is something special, and something to be grateful for, but there is nothing you owe to anyone other than sincere effort—which is what you’re already doing. You aren’t weak or powerless, you’re just refusing to acknowledge your strengths. So acknowledge them.”

Yamamoto Shosuke -- 263

LAIKA OF THQ

[Yamamoto Shosuke]

Overthinking, getting caught in a method of thinking or a line of logic, was a common flaw that everyone had the potential to fall into, regardless of how clever or stupid they were. Selection bias, finding evidence that backed up one's way of thinking, it was all too easy to fall into, and sometimes? Sometimes it helped for someone else to say something so obvious, so plainly factually true, just so you would be able to hear it outside of your own head.

'What you are good at does not mean what you are better than other people at'. If one thought about that too long, it was painfully obvious. But it also caught Sho for a moment, his voice trailing off as he seemed prepared to respond.

For far too long, perhaps his entire life, he had watched other people enviously, wanting to be able to do the things they could do. Hell, in the missions that he had undergone with Miroru, he couldn't help compare himself to them, feeling insignificant next to their talent for ninjutsu. But even if he wasn't as good as she was, it wasn't as if he had been a liability, or that he hadn't helped. He had destroyed the slavers' supplies, wiped out an entire boat full of pirates, treated the wounds of those that had been captured... He had had an impact, even if not as big a one as Miroru had had.

Slowly, he pulled back the pen and began to draw upon the page. At first, it started simple, blunt descriptions of far larger categories - Ninjutsu, medicine, healing, wood release; things that, if one had wanted to, they would be able to boil down into many, many more sub-talents. But, like a small trickle becoming a river of water, soon enough the entire page was covered in information - diagnostics, strategy, scouting, first aid, applying bandages, herbalism, the list went on and on.

"I..." he slowly began, his voice unsure as he began to talk, all the while the pen continued to scratch against the paper.

"... I'm not sure I agree. At least, a little bit. If we're using Daisuke as an example - yes, a lot of what he achieved is from his own application and hard work, but you need natural talent.

I don't know a lot about Sage arts, but I know that very few people have the ability to understand and mold Sen chakra. As much as we can get better results by working harder, natural talent and proficiencies will always come into it. Even if I sat down and trained and trained and trained, I would never be able to use Sage Mode.

I mean, I'm the only person in village history as far as I know who can use Wood Release. But no matter how hard I work, no matter how much I dedicate myself to it, I will never be as good as an actual Senju.

That's what I mean when I say certain people have better destinies than others - There are certain things that are simply built into us when we're born, like right or left-handedness, or sexuality. Talent is one of those things..."

535 words | hirana kizumi

SPOILER: Click to show

Jutsus Used: None

[hirana kizumi]

A HEART'S A HEAVY BURDEN

Kizumi was careful not to watch too closely as Shosuke finally began writing: haltingly at first, then more comfortably, more confidently as he got into the flow of things. She’d go over it herself later, to be sure, but for now she just wanted to give him some semblance of privacy as he put thoughts to paper. "To a degree, sure,” Kizumi said amicably. "Senjutsu is a death sentence for most people who try it, from what I hear. Mokuton—Tomomi, one of the academy kids, he’s part Senju. Someone’s nephew or something. But you and Ichi—Kanoh’s assistant, sweet guy—are the weird little non-Senju outliers. And that’s fine.” Her coffee was down to its dregs, now, a thin film of sickly-sweet cream that clung to the inside of her cup. She held it in her right hand. "I’m not actually left-handed,” she said, gesturing pointedly with her mug. "Born right-handed, beat myself into ambidexterity the hard way. I suck shit at ninjutsu, but I can make a shadow clone well enough. I’m never going to be able to seal techniques with my eyeballs or turn myself into raw lightning or hear chakra, and neither are you, and that’s fine. That ‘talent—’” here she made little quotation marks with her free hand, "—natural-born skill, bloodline gift, whatever you wanna call it, that’s part of the equation for sure. But no one ‘talent’ is any better or worse than another. All it can do is help inform who you decide to be. Practice what you find fulfillment in, try to cover your weak spots, learn from people who are good at what you suck at. Everything is an opportunity to learn, as long as you approach it the right way. Some skills you can adapt to, some you can’t. Figure out what works for you and throw away the rest.” If she made it sound easy, that was because it was: to her, after many years of practice and frustration and throwing herself against the wall, over and over and over again. The cafe was getting busier now; the line was getting long, patrons searching for seats like circling sharks. Kizumi got up, gathering her cup and saucer and the now-empty plate of pastries to take back to the counter. "I’ll pay the tab,” she said. "Keep writing down whatever comes to mind, doesn’t matter how small you think it is. We’ll go over it together when we get back home and come up with a game plan, alright? You’re a sensible kid with a good heart. One bullshit exam isn’t going to define your whole career.”

Yamamoto Shosuke -- 434

LAIKA OF THQ