[Itagaki Mitsumi]

The offer to rest after the successful hunt had been gratefully accepted, as exhaustion weighed heavily upon her. The mountain trek had been arduous, and that was without the chakra exhaustion that came from using her nascent ability. Or the emotional weight of taking her first life. An animal life, but a life all the same.

By the time the camp had been set, and night had fallen, Mitsumi didn't have long to ponder the day before her eyelids grew irresistibly heavy. The first time she had slept outside her room or hospital for longer than she could remember. The first time she was to sleep beneath the stars like this. She had come a long way.

But no matter how fast she ran, no matter how doggedly she fled, she was never going to be able to escape herself.

Dreamless, restful sleep turned dark and turbulent. Choking ash. Grasping flame. Blinding red. Consuming black. Devouring light. A life spiraling into the abyss.

Her skin boiled and blistered. She couldn't breathe. A face that should have been so familiar was shrouded in smoke, in fire, in ash. Then crumbled to nothing at all.

Then everything was light and pain and loss.

It was still an hour before dawn when Mitsumi's panicked scream broke the calm. She curled up in the foetal position, hands pressed against her eyes, then covering her ears. The mountain was quiet, still and dark, but the fire stabbed at her eyes, its roar gnawed at her ears. And the screams. The screams. Her hands pressed painfully against her ears, and yet she could still hear them perfectly.

Her chest heaved as she hyperventilated, shoulders shaking as tears flowed and she sobbed. She was still trapped somewhere between dream and wakefulness, nightmare and memory. Not aware enough of her surroundings to even be ashamed of the pitiful display.

[hirana kizumi]

Camp was set and night had fallen. Kenichi stayed up past the point that Mitsumi had fallen asleep, tending to the corpse of the goat that Mitsumi had felled. Under normal circumstances he might have skinned and butchered it on the spot, but his charge was too exhausted to learn how to do such things, and so it seemed more prudent for Kenichi to unfurl one of the medium scrolls that he kept holstered at his hip and seal the body of Mitsumi’s quarry within. He checked on her before he laid down to rest himself. She was, at the time, as still as the dead, laid in a sleep so deep that Kenichi doubted he could wake her if he tried. Satisfied, he tucked himself in for a few hours of rest before dawn. A scream broke the silence. A flock of birds shot up from their rest in the trees overhead, chittering with anxiety; Kenichi bolted up from his bedroll, caught in the moment between sleep-blindness receding and sensory taking hold. As soon as he understood what was happening he knelt beside Mitsumi, hands hovering awkwardly above her, instinctively wanting to comfort but afraid to touch and make things worse. "Mitsumi,” Kenichi said, low and coarse with sleep. It was an effort to keep his tone even and calm, but he managed, the barest waver of tension threaded through his voice. Was she still asleep? Had she woken from a nightmare? He couldn’t tell. "Mitsumi, it’s okay. You’re safe. It’s the spring of 1024 just before dawn. You’re in the Valley of Lightning outside of Kumogakure. It’s just you and I here. You’re okay. You’re safe.” A quiet litany as gently relayed as he could manage, his fists balled up tight in his lap.

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LAIKA OF THQ

[Itagaki Mitsumi]

The world was drowning in reds, oranges, and blacks. Screams, crackling, roars, and shattering glass filled her ears. She flinched at the sound of Jokyu's voice, drawing tighter into a ball. Her eyes remained closed, her ears covered.

But she was eventually coaxed into the waking world, and her eyes snapped open. Wide purple eyes told of one emotion above all.

Fear.

"N-No!" She jerked away from Jokyu, scrambling for distance, his words prickling at her consciousness but finding little purchase. Phantoms tore at her body, and encroached on the edges of her vision. Her breath came in rapid gasps as her conscious mind stirred, processing what was said. More instinctive aspects of her mind dug deep hooks into the past, trying to anchor her there. "1024... Valley of Lightning..." She repeated the words, scrambling for purchase. Her eyes flickered, from place to place, and she touched her fingertips together in a practiced ritual. She couldn't find blue in the gloom, so just started counting trees. Anything to anchor herself in now. She sat on the ground, knees drawn up into her chest.

After a while, her breathing slowed, though her eyes were still red, face still streaked with tears. "Jo... Jokyu...sensei, I-" Her breath caught, and the fear etched onto her face melted away with the grip of memory. It was only memory. In its place, a mixture of emotions were written plain on her face, even as she looked down and to the side. Shame. Guilt. Defeat.

"I-I'm... sorry. I'll be... I'm okay. It was just a nightmare." She balled her scarred hand into a fist, and stared at it. Her shoulders shivered, as the revenant dug its claws in again. "Just a nightmare." She breathed, trying to convince herself. She wasn't. "I... woke you, I'm guessing? S-sorry..." She had practically collapsed with exhaustion after yesterday, and Jokyu was probably tired herself. Failures atop of failures. She scrubbed at her face and eyes with her sleeve. "I'll be fine. I'm fine." Another breath. "You can go back to sleep, Jokyu-sensei."

[hirana kizumi]

She jerked away from him; he had to fight the urge to close the distance, instinct battling against cold reason. He knew, objectively, that as long as she wasn’t hurting herself, then she just needed to feel safe. Crowding in on her wasn’t likely to make that happen. All he could do was remind her of where and when she was, and wait for her to return to herself. Kenichi pulled a rag from one of his pouches and held it out to Mitsumi. A poor man’s excuse for a handkerchief, but it would serve better than a sleeve. "It’s fine,” he said softly. Instinctively he turned his face up to the sky; there was nothing he could see, but the body’s habits were the hardest to break. After a moment’s thought, he said, "It’s almost dawn anyway. No harm done.” Except, of course, whatever continued to rage inside that mind of hers. "Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. He hadn’t moved from her side, carefully maintaining his position of neutrality until she either invited him in or bade him to go. "It seemed… vivid. I know a little something of terrible nightmares, and the worst of mine have always been based in memory.”

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[Itagaki Mitsumi]

Did she want to talk about it? No. Absolutely not. But the thought of Jokyu worrying and wondering for the rest of this hunting trip was worse, even if only marginally.

Mitsumi hugged her knees tightly after gingerly taking the offered cloth, and dabbing at her eyes.
"It's... something I've dealt with for a long time," Mitsumi said slowly, keeping her voice low. A trick she was taught to quell the tremor in her voice. It mostly worked. "There was... a fire. I-" She felt the panic rise, and the vision burned behind her eyes. Her breath caught, and she was quiet for a time. "We all lost a lot. In the plague. But the fire it... I lost my brother. And... I've been like this ever since." She was opening up a little. It was terrifying, but she felt some trust for Jokyu. Maybe it was because he couldn't see her properly. Maybe it was his patience and care.

Maybe she just needed to let some of this pent up and repressed stress out.

"I'm trying. I'm just... Just tired of feeling weak. Useless." That's why she was pushing herself so hard. Training until she collapsed or fell ill. And she had no choice but to keep pushing. "I'm fine. Really. It's just... some dreams are a little too intense." She scratched her shoulder, as the itch spidered across her skin. She fell silent for a time. There was more to share, and part of her wanted the words to flow, but her throat closed up tight. She swallowed, then pushed herself onto her feet. "I... won't be able to get back to sleep. Shall we pack up the camp?"

[hirana kizumi]

Kenichi listened quietly. Even during the long pause, he didn’t interrupt; some instinct told him to wait, and so he did, the smoldering remains of their campfire the only audible sound as Mitsumi gathered her thoughts and words. She spoke of tragedy. Not uncommon, in recent years. Whole families and communities were wiped out by an illness so devastating that the country was still reeling from its effects years later… but one tragedy did not negate another, and what Mitsumi didn’t say spoke volumes. Again she fell silent, and again Kenichi waited patiently for whatever else she had to say, but instead she got to her feet. Discussion closed, at least for now. Kenichi nodded, and stood to begin breaking down the camp in the smooth, practiced motions of someone who knew precisely where everything was positioned by touch alone. "Thank you,” he said softly, "for sharing. I know it’s not easy—we all have our burdens, and some weigh heavier than others. The load never truly lessens, but sharing with others can make it just a little easier to carry.” He paused in binding his bedroll, his hands stilling over the thick fabric. "... I felt much the same when I lost my sight,” he said. "Weak and useless. It took… time, to move past that feeling. I still feel that way sometimes. But there is no shame in leaning on the strength of others until you can stand on your own two feet—and someday give that strength to others in turn.” He helped to bundle up the tents, kicked dirt over the fire. "You’re doing well. Just give yourself time.”

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[Itagaki Mitsumi]

"It's not even close to losing your sight..." Mitsumi muttered, after giving Jokyu the same consideration he had given her. It was mostly in her head. Phantoms and delusions. Physically, there was little wrong with her, especially all these years later. It felt stupid. To be this hung up on damage that was mostly cosmetic. On grief that virtually everyone in the village shared. Especially when someone who had lost something much more foundational was the one trying to comfort her.

A painful knot formed in her chest, as Mitsumi forced the envy and irrational anger down. She had a few people to lean on, but... honestly, she had been leaning on them for so long. Was it so wrong to want the strength to stand on her own?

Mitsumi busied her hands and mind with packing up her own bedroll and the camp. "I've had plenty of time, Jokyu-sensei. But thank you. For listening."

After packing up her share, and making ready to set out again, she scrubbed her eyes with a sleeve one final time, then turned to Jokyu. "Okay. Are we doing more hunting today?" The previous discussion was over, it seemed. At least for now.

The walls that had been lowered were coming back up.

[hirana kizumi]

She wasn’t wrong, Kenichi thought, on a certain level. There had been a long period of time in which his emotions were colored primarily by resentment; any attempt to relate to his situation, any display of empathy, he roundly rejected because of the severity of his injury. Losing his sight had been irreversibly life-altering, and he thought it impossible that anyone could possibly understand what he was going through. And then he grew up. "Invisible injuries are no less severe,” he said gently. But Mitsumi was quick to shut down the conversation, and he was too hesitant to push her any further—battering down her walls would surely only end in resentment and pain. He let the topic drop. "Yes,” he replied, "but first I wanted to show you how to butcher the carcass of what we’ve already hunted, and prepare the meat for travel. Sealing scrolls are very useful in this regard, but there will be situations in which that may not be an option. If you’re ready?” It was a task that never grew less gruesome no matter how many times it was repeated, but the crux of the lesson was only partially in the practicality of learning to prepare meat for travel: the rest was in explaining how, precisely, he knew how to complete this task while relying only on sensory awareness, how he relied on the relationship between hand and knife and chakra radar to understand where to slice and carve and peel. It was difficult, requiring very intense concentration of sensory awareness on an incredibly minute level—but it was why the exercise was worthwhile. And, he hoped, the intensity would take Mitsumi’s mind off her nightmares.

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