The broken boy

[Toboe]

Shirio took a step back, letting his hand fall back to his side while looking a little started. So this is what he gets for trying to help? No matter what he did or what he said, Kouji just got more and more upset. He knew that his teammate wouldn't get too far without help, that even the most simple of tasks were going to be a challenge until he adapted, but he didn't seem to grasp that, or if he did, he was too full of hate to care. Shirio stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking for something to say but came up short. What was there to be said? Kouji really seemed to hate him. He wasn't sure why, most people could move on from their unfortunate first meeting, but maybe there was more to it than that. Maybe Kouji just hated who he was, and that was that. It hurt a little, Shirio had never felt so disliked, most people were quite welcoming of the Inuzuka. It upset him, it angered him. All he wanted to do was help.

He nodded slowly as he thought it over. “Fine.” His voice broke an uneasy silence. “You're right, you never asked for my help. I made the mistake of underestimating you, like always. I had no idea you knew how to deal with blindness, but I guess this is your home, soooo--- I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding your way around, or doing any of the many things most of us take for granted.” Shirio turned away from Kouji, walking to the door. “Just a small reminder. THIS is why you failed.” He glanced back towards the Hyuuga. “You seem to have it in your head that accepting help makes you weak, well look at what that train of thought has gotten ya. There is a reason armies that aren't united fall, that teams without unity fail in their mission, and often die. Communication, trust, and belief in one another is important.” He let out a quiet sigh. “I don't want to replace you, Kouji. I want to keep our team together, but from how you've treated us, it's going to be an uphill challenge to talk sensei out of the idea.”

Shirio then left, closing the door behind him with a small slam. It was frustrating. It seemed no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get through. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe he just wasn't fit to be the team-leader. He had already failed one team, what if he was letting down this one as well? No matter, he'll just have to talk to sensei and have her put someone else in that position. Maybe Kouji would respond better and be more cooperative if the person he was following wasn't so--- much like Shirio.

[Sabaku]

Inuzuka may not have understood, but Kouji didn't much care. This was his home. What did he have left if he couldn't manage this much? He pressed his fingertips into the edge of the table, holding on tightly until the door slammed, until the sound of Inuzuka's retreating footsteps faded from his hearing, like he could somehow anchor himself by the gesture and stop feeling so lost. If only it were that easy.

A long, slow sigh passed his lips, the tension ebbing from his body to leave a hollow, empty weariness in its wake, but he stood in place, his fingers tracing the grooves of the wood in the table. Several minutes passed in the still quiet, that small motion the only one he gave, thought and feeling drained away where he didn't have to face them, until finally he stirred himself in the clench of his fingers and the closing of his eyes. Slowly, he backed up until his legs met the edge of the chair, and he sank down hard, lowering his head into his hands.

The solitude was a welcome respite from Inuzuka's constant pushing, at least. All of the ceaseless reminders of what he couldn't do, how he was blind and helpless and utterly useless were more than he could take. The exams had only been a few days ago, and then he could see, fight, go where he pleased without relying on the guidance of someone else. Like a dog. So why this now...? All the explanations rang like empty words echoing through his head. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. He had been whole, strong, sure. So why!?

A tremor ran through his body. He jumped to his feet, shoving the chair back so hard it tipped and crashed to the floor, but he didn't care, pushing himself forward. His hand automatically went for the table to steady himself, but he drew it back abruptly, as if from a snake. Not in his own home! No. He wouldn't be so helpless.

When he rounded the table the corner caught him in the side, but he kept moving. He knew this place. If he knew anywhere, he knew this place. Throwing himself forward, he hit the doorframe hard with his left side, sending a shock of pain through his shoulder and leg; he stumbled, put his hands out to catch himself, but they met only empty air as his body pitched forward and hit the floor. His heart was pounding again, but he shoved himself to his knees, hands scrambling for something to pull himself up, anything, but when they met solidity it was only a vase, tilting precariously at his touch before tipping to shatter on the floor.

Kouji flinched back from the sound, struggling to catch his breath, to force himself to calm down as he shoved himself away from the broken remnants, struggling to his feet. The stairs. Where were the stairs? Somewhere to his left, they couldn't be far now. He turned, stretching his hands out as he walked, ignoring the way they trembled in the air. How far was it? How far had he gone? Every step felt like a mile, stumbling through the dark with nothing to guide him. When his fingers finally met the wall he flattened his hand against it, following it until it opened, leaning on it as he took the steps as quickly as he dared.

At the top he flung his door open, throwing himself forward until his legs hit the bed and he collapsed onto the sheets. His body curled forward, shaking, stinging as pain pulsed through it. His hand hurt the worst, he realized dully; when he lifted it a damp warmth spread across the skin, and when he closed the other over the palm, it was wet. Blood. The vase. He'd cut it on the shards, he must have; how hadn't he noticed?

Was he really so afraid?

Yes, some voice at the back of his mind answered, and that tiny whisper cut bone-deep. He bent his head to his knees, wrapping his arms around them, willing himself not to shake, not to scream, not to cry.

But the tears came anyway, and he couldn't stop them.

[Toboe]

Lighting flashed outside his window as thunder roared off in the distance, the howling outside the walls of Shirio's house. Shiromaru paid the late season thunderstorm no mind as he quietly slept, curled up on the bed. Shirio stepped out of the bathroom, his hair dripping wet, a towel wrapped around his waist. Storms, he didn't care much for them. His brother went away during a storm. To him it was a bad omen to start off a mission on such a bad note, but there was no time for thinking about such things. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

After a late night conversation with the Hokage, Shirio got permission to watch over his injured teammate, at least for the time being, until he was well enough to live on his own without the assistance. While she didn't see the formality necessary, Shirio's own mistrust against the Hyuuga made him not want to take any chances.

He let out a quiet sigh as his head bumped up against the window. “Man, it really is pouring out there...” He couldn't stop worrying about Kouji. He didn't even know why.

Shiromaru grunted in his sleep, his leg twitching, no doubt in the middle of a dream.

“What am I supposed to do? Ashi---, I'm so lost...”

There was another crash of thunder that startled Shirio, making him jump back from the window. It was no use putting it off any longer, he thought, he had to go back. He doubted that Kouji would be too happy to see him, considering he pretty much kicked him out the night before, but Shirio thought it unlikely that he was able to do too much on his own. Being his teammate, he just couldn't turn the other way.

After putting on some clothes, he woke up Shiromaru long enough to tell him that he was going out, much to his displeasure, then grabbed his coat and headed out into the storm.

The long walk to the Hyuuga estate seemed to take eons, not that the storm helped matters. Even the slight respite when he went into a shop offered only a little break, so by the time he saw Kouji's house off in the distance, he couldn't help but feel relieved upon its sight, even if inside there was a person who despised him.

Shirio didn't bother to knock, knowing well enough that he'd be ignored, assuming that Kouji could even make it to the door in the first place. He walked in, hanging up his coat and slipping off his sandles, trying hard to avoid dripping water too far into the kitchen. Once he set a bag up on the table, he glanced away, spotting the knocked over chair. “......” After further investigation, he didn't see Kouji anywhere. All he could find was a broken vase, that he almost stepped in. He started to worry a little. The house had a second floor, didn't it? Maybe his bedroom was up there. Shirio didn't expect it, how could he manage to get up the stairs? Much to his surprise that is exactly where he found him.

“Kouji???” He took just a step or two into the room, keeping his distance as if he was approaching a hurt wild animal. Last thing Shirio wanted was to be bit. “Kouji, have you been here all night?”

[Sabaku]

Sleep came in fitful waves.

Kouji closed his eyes, and he found himself in the same darkness that permeated his days. He opened them, and found no respite. Restless, he turned over and over, jolted awake by a half-remembered nightmare that left him gasping in a cold sweat, sank back into sleep only for more of the same.

When the thunder rolled across the sky with a resounding crash that shook the windows, he knew he was well and truly awake, and he let out a long, low sigh, staring ceilingward, seeing nothing. What time was it...? Morning, it must be now. But then, he'd thought that the last five times, the last ten.

He rolled onto his side, closing his eyes, but knew sleep wouldn't return.

The thunder came again. Unseasonable weather, and cold, the chill permeating the windows and making him shiver. He curled forward, pulling his knees up to his chest. The rain was a symphony beyond the window, a hundred thousand tiny rolling crashes that shuddered through the leaves outside, splashed off of the panes of glass, danced across the roof. The sound seemed to surround him. He opened his eyes, closed them, balled the sheet in his hand.

His stomach hurt. The hunger had been easy to ignore in the heat of his anger, but it came in full force now, pulsing through his entire body and leaving him dizzy and weak. Why hadn't he stopped for food? How long had it been? But that seemed secondary, unimportant, to the immediate, consuming sensation, and what did even that matter? There was no point to lying to himself. He couldn't cook like this. Maybe if he left, he could find his way to a restaurant or stall, given enough time, but the image of himself stumbling through the rain, lost and uncertain, wandering far from his destination to the eyes and ridicule of the entire village, was the clearest in his mind since his vision had left him.

The hunger would ebb on its own in time. So he lay still, holding the sheet, listening to the rain, waiting.

He didn't sleep, but he drifted, letting his thoughts fade, sinking into a dull empty lassitude, mindless, weightless, dreamless. The rain sank through him, filling him with sound in place of everything else, and he let out a long, low sigh.

The voice cut through the quiet like a knife. Kouji jumped, sitting bolt upright in an instant. Where...? He hadn't heard anyone enter. Was he really so careless? Turning his head toward the sound, he relaxed slowly, gradually, feeling the edge of panic dull, his rapid startled heartbeat easing, his breath calming. Inuzuka...

Why had he come back? Didn't he hate him?

"...Yes." His answer came quiet, his voice so strained and raw and brittle he hardly recognized it. What was the point of lying? They would both see through it.

"What are you doing here, Inuzuka?"

It was weary, soft as the rain, devoid of any of the heat and anger of the previous day. It had burned out, flash-fire, burned him through, leaving nothing behind.

[Toboe]

Shirio blinked a couple times, staring at Kouji for a moment before going over to him. He WAS angry, but how could he stay that way when his teammate looked and sounded so defeated. He reached out and gently grabbed his wrist. “Come on. I have brought something for you to eat.” He only received a quiet nod in response before Kouji climbed out of the bed to let Shirio lead him down the stairs.

“Careful...” He tugged lightly on Kouji's arm, pulling him around the broken shards scattered across the floor. “I stopped and picked up some kabobs.” Shirio didn't say it out loud, but he picked out the kabobs feeling they'd be easier for Kouji to eat than a bowl full of soup or rice. He sat Kouji down in a chair at the end of his kitchen table before going to turn on a couple of lights, the storm having blocked out most of the sunlight made it too dark.

“Wasn't sure what you liked, so I got a little bit of everything...” He pulled out a couple of boxes and placed them on the table, opening them up and sliding them close to Kouji. “Eat up, I'm going to go back into the other room to clean up all that broken glass.”

Shirio left Kouji with his food, hoping he didn't poke an eye out, to go search out a broom (which didn't take him too long to find.) He picked up the larger pieces by hand, tossing them into a small trash-basket he found, his hand hesitating when he spotted a red blotch of dried blood on the floor. Shirio shook his head before sweeping up what remained. He had his doubts that the cut was properly cleaned.

“Kouji...” His voice was suddenly firm, the sound of the broken shards of glass rang out as he emptied the basket into the kitchen's trashcan. He could now see the dried blood on the Hyuuga's hand. “... I need to clean up that cut on your hand once you're done eating.” Shirio grabbed the chair that had been knocked over and carried it back to it's place, sitting down and grabbing the small box of kabob's he had gotten himself.

[Sabaku]

Why...?

After everything, why? It was the question that circled through Kouji's mind as he followed, quietly compliant, taking the steps slowly as he felt his way down. He and Inuzuka had never done anything but fought, clashing at every turn since before they were even on the same team. Even yesterday...

Inuzuka couldn't stand him, no more than Kouji could abide his company, he'd made that abundantly clear. So why come back, why bring him food, why try to help him when he'd fought so hard against it? He could almost feel his own lashing scorn welling up inside him again, but it was a ghost sensation, flash of remembered anger that couldn't reach him now.

It seemed hollow now, meaningless. His pride had guttered out in the last failing fires of his defiance, and without that, what was there to hold himself above anyone? Pride. The thought seemed like a bad joke now. He couldn't find his way through his own home; what was pride?

The scrape of the chair against the hard wood of the floor brought him back to himself. With his free hand, he felt for it, brushing the smooth back with his fingertips. Pain jolted through his hand, even at that slight contact, but he did his best to mask it from his face. If he couldn't have pride, at least he could hold on to some small scrap of dignity.

He sank down gratefully. The chair was cool and solid, and the smell of food almost overwhelming. Kouji felt across the tabletop for the boxes, tracing the sides until he found the end of one stick, picking it up slowly, awkwardly. Some part of him hoped Inuzuka didn't notice, but the greater part, lightheaded with hunger, couldn't have cared less.

Eating wasn't as difficult as he had expected, at least. His body knew the motions well enough, even if his eyes failed him. The box was emptied quickly, and Kouji shoved it back, reaching for the other just as Inuzuka's voice cut across the room. He froze with his hand hovering just above the food, reflexively curling his fingers back, over the cuts, over the blood.

So he'd noticed. How could he have expected that he wouldn't? Holding in a sigh, he nodded, slowly, slightly, pulling the second box forward. There was no point to arguing it. His hand hurt, more than he wanted to admit, enough to make holding the thin skewers difficult, and no doubt it was unpleasant to look at, with the blood he could still feel dried across his palm.

They ate in silence. Kouji heard Inuzuka sit, take his own food. After a while he laid the remainder of the kabob in his hands aside and pushed the box back, waiting, listening. He'd eaten too much, but he didn't care. The silence was heavy, but not tense, not like before, and for that much, at least, he was grateful.

He didn't expect to be the one to break it, but the words came out anyway.

"Why did you do all this?" Bringing the food, cleaning up the broken shards of the vase, leading him in here and insisting on cleaning his hand -- he heard himself asking; it startled him a little, but he leaned back in the chair, letting his injured hand fall to his side, and let the words go on of their own accord. "I...thought you hated me." Don't you?

[Toboe]

Shirio glanced up towards Kouji for a moment before also putting his kabob back down in the box, pushing it aside with the back of a hand. He did suppose it must seem confusing to Kouji, with their past it would seem unlikely that Shirio of all people would want to be the one to help him. He listened as he was questioned for everything he has done, but noticed that the tone was very different than it had been before, that didn't seen Kouji angry. No, he was something else.

“Hate you?” Shirio didn't sound too surprised that his teammate felt that way, not when he himself was certain that Kouji hated him. “No, I don't hate you, never have.” He stood from his seat and left the room for a moment, coming back a short while later with a wet cloth, some bandages, and ointment. He dragged a chair over beside Kouji to sit before taking his hand and looking it over.

“As I told you before, you're my teammate, we're supposed to look after one another.” Shirio started to scrub away the dried blood, leaving the wound for last. “I... may have said things about the Hyuuga in the past that made sound that I hated you, but you always just got on my nerves and I knew that'd piss you off in return.” He carefully cleaned the wound with the wet cloth before taking the tin of ointment and spreading it evenly on the wound. “I just don't understand you, Kouji. You treat us like we're worthless, you hate listening to anything we have to say and you almost refuse to work as a team unless YOU'RE in danger. I know I preach this teamwork stuff all the time, but it's only because you seemed to miss those lessons at the academy or somethin.” He paused for a moment while wrapping the hand tightly in a bandage.

“Look... Kouji. I didn't forget how those other Hyuuga treated you yesterday. Just try to remember that sensei, Ayana and I, we're not them. They might look down on you, but we never have.” He put the chair back in it's place before cleaning up after their meal. “I hope one day you'd see that, and just maybe, we can fix whatever is wrong between us. My team... it's a very important thing to me, and it hurts that we don't get along.”

[Sabaku]

Reflexively, Kouji tried to pull his hand back, startled by the touch. But Inuzuka held on, and a pain shot through his palm, jarring him back to logic. He forced down the irrational tension, calming as the wet cloth touched his skin. It made him wince. Had he cut himself so deeply? The thought brought a burning flush of shame to his face; he lowered his head to hide it, futile though he knew it was.

What did it matter? Inuzuka knew everything; he'd seen the failures, the ungainly clumsiness with which he struggled to navigate his surroundings. He'd seen the fear.

His hand lay open, warm with the flush of new blood as the old and dried was wiped away, laying bare his inadequacy with more eloquence than expression could ever give. Kouji swallowed the new discomfort with the rest, lifted his head, felt the warmth leave his face. It didn't have any meaning now.

"...I never trusted you."

Yet again, it surprised him to hear his own voice, quiet, as seemed to be its wont today, and if he heard the edge of fragility in it...perhaps Inuzuka would not. "I didn't want to put my life in someone else's hands. One mistake. That's all it takes, out there on a mission. I just wanted to watch my own back, handle things my own way, not worry about..." About their failings and mistakes. About their inadequacies. Arrogant and stupid and childish.

And what had come of it? Inuzuka was chuunin now, while Kouji had both failed the exam and lost his greatest asset. He was genin now in formality alone, and only, he suspected, because of the Hokage's pity. It made him ill.

"Forget about the Hyuuga." A flash of the old heat returned in the abrupt change in tack, bitter scorn flickering whip-sharp through his tone. "I'm not one of them. You heard it. I don't care about what they said, and I don't care about what they think. They don't have anything to do with it."

But he'd never been good at lying.

[Toboe]

“Then you got into the wrong line of work, Kouji.” Shirio stated in a matter of fact tone. “Shinobi work is based on trust in your teammates. We all look out for each other. It scares me to realize that for all that time, on those missions we ran, you never had our back.” He finished bandaging his teammate's hand, letting it go before standing. Before he thought that Kouji was just stubborn, hard to work with, but now he could clearly see that the kid just wanted NOTHING to do with his team. “We're human, we all make mistakes.”

He then busied himself by cleaning up the trash from their lunch, boxing up the left overs to put away for later. Now that he took the time to look around, he started to notice how Kouji decorated his home, or rather lack of. Just the essentials and a few odds and ends, such as the now broken vase. Sparse but tidy. Shirio had to give him that, for his own place wasn't as neat.

“If you don't care, then why are you so upset?” Shirio let out a quiet sigh, sticking his hands into his pockets. “Don't try to lie to me Kouji, it isn't one of your better talents.” He shrugged. “But so be it. Your business with the Hyuuga is none of my own. It just pisses me off to see them treat their own flesh and blood worse than the dirt they tread. Us Inuzuka watch out for our own, friend and family alike.” His tone doing little to hide his pride. “Too bad you're such an ass to everythin that breaths, or else I'd take ya away from this gods forsaken place.” Despite his words, there was a hint of playfulness as he gave Kouji a light slap on the back.

[Sabaku]

Kouji was all too glad to pull his hand away the moment Inuzuka released it, drawing it close to himself, cupping the other around it, as if to hide the bandages and the injury, far too late for it to matter. What did he want!? If it came down to it, if they had to fight... "Do you think I was just going to stand there and watch you die if something happened?" There was venom in his tone, venom, scorn, hurt pride. "I would have fought, the same as either of you. Can you blame me for wanting to look out for myself? You can't just say 'we all make mistakes' if someone got killed!"

Who was he to judge? Like he wouldn't look out for himself first, if it came down to it. It was easy to talk about trust, but who could put their life on the line without any doubts? Human nature. Anyone would trust themselves more than the next person, especially in company so raw and untested. They were children.

"Anyway, it's not like it matters." He drew one foot up in front of him, resting it on the edge of the chair, wrapping his arms about himself. His head sank forward, cheek resting on his knee. Outside the thunder boomed, shaking the windows; he flinched, involuntarily, as if it resonated through him the same way, bone-deep. "I won't be going on any missions like this, so you don't have to worry about it. You won't have to rely on me for anything."

And with that all the fight was gone again. He couldn't keep trying. The outburst left him exhausted. Closing his eyes, he bent forward a little, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. "Not everyone can be an Inuzuka," he managed finally, quietly, turning his head until his forehead pressed into his knee instead. Stupid comforting gesture, stupid to feel like the darkness made sense that way. Maybe he was just a damned child after all, the same as them. "Things are different here. There's no changing the Hyuuga. This is just how it is, and you're going to be out of it soon enough anyway, so why do you care?"

The slap on his back made him jump. He let his foot slide from the chair, back down to the floor, pressing his toes into the hard wood. The rain pounded ceaselessly into the windows; he wanted to stand, to feel the coolness of the glass and the pressure of the water against it, but he didn't dare try to make his way with Inuzuka watching, so he sat in place and contented himself with the sound. "I don't want to go anywhere." Wouldn't have anywhere else to go. "This is my home. Just forget about it."

[Toboe]

It felt as if someone had punched him in the chest as images of his old teammates flashed in his mind. Is that really how he sounded? His old team died because of a mistake he made... how could he ever ask someone to trust him with their life when his hands were covered in the blood of his fallen comrades. Maybe Kouji was right, maybe he had good reason not to trust Shirio. It hurt. He said nothing as Kouji went on speaking, his eyes fixated on the floor, his mind jumping between the present and past. He almost wanted to cry.

“I care... because no one else does.” He finally said after a long moment of silence. “... and maybe... in part I am trying to atone for my past. Almost everyone I've ever loved is dead, my family, my team. I think part of me... is just trying to find a place and a reason.” Shirio took a couple of steps away from Kouji. “I-I'll straighten up some things and leave you alone. It isn't my place to force myself on you like this. I only wanted to help.”

He moved away from Kouji, a bit slowly, and did as he said, cleaning up what he could that'd be more difficult for Kouji to do on his own before gathering the few things he brought for himself. “I guess... I'll be leaving now. I'll see you later...” He pulled tight his jacket, not liking the idea of having to walk back home in the pouring rain, but it wasn't like he hadn't done it before, so he reached for the door and walked out, making sure to latch it behind him so it didn't blow open with the wind.

[Sabaku]

The shift in tone was like a sliver of ice. Kouji felt himself tense. What now? He waited for the anger, the counterpoint to his own outburst, bracing himself for a fight he knew he didn't have in him.

No. Anger was wrong. Inuzuka's anger was bright and hot as his own; this was quiet, this was...defeat. Kouji stilled. For all his faults, Inuzuka wasn't like the Hyuuga; thinking so was only his own stupid stubbornness, and maybe some part of him just wanted someone to hate, someone to lash out at, someone to...blame.

Anger was easier than fear.

He bit back the first reactionary comment to come to mind, lowered his head, ran one hand up and down the opposite arm. What was he supposed to say? Apologies were too heavy on his tongue; condolences would be hollow and false. Inuzuka moved away, and Kouji lifted his head, slowly, listening as things were moved and gathered, his heavy step making its way around the room. Rustle of heavy fabric, scrape of the door.

"Inuzuka--"

Click. Kouji lifted his hand, but it met only air, and then he was alone. His fingers moved, grasping, searching, but found nothing. He balled them up, making his hand a loose fist, drawing it back to himself.

He shouldn't have been afraid. He wasn't such a child as that.

So why was he shaking again?

His chest constricted, and for one instant he thought the tears from the night before might come rushing out again, but he held it in and fought it down until the sensation passed, shuddering through his body and leaving him weak. Now what? He curled forward, flinching from another boom of thunder. The urge to run came back, far and fast and without sparing a thought for what lay behind, but he knew better. Where could he go like this?

He was on his feet in a moment, chair clattering as it skidded backward. The rain had picked up, though it was already a downpour; it became a river against the glass, soft rushing undercurrent to the tiny pinpricks of sound that landed everywhere else.

Inuzuka would be gone by now, right...? Kouji turned, groped for the door, fumbled with the latch until it came free. What was he doing? He couldn't answer that. The wind caught the door and the cold hit like a wall, shocking and sudden, but his soft gasp was drowned in the torrent. He shoved a hand back through his hair, shutting his eyes against the water that ran into them, wincing as he stepped out. The water standing on the wood porch was ice against his bare feet, so cold it almost hurt. Behind the door slipped from his hand and shut with a soft click, hardly audible in the downpour, but he turned his face skyward and paid it no mind, stretching out his hands, letting the rain soak through his hair and clothes, down to the skin.

The Hyuuga wouldn't be out in this. At least for the moment he was free of their ridicule. Maybe he could run somewhere after all...it didn't much matter if he didn't have a destination, so long as it wasn't here, right?

Stupid thought. Stupid that he wanted it to be true.

The porch was narrower than he anticipated. He stepped down and his foot slipped in the running water, right over the edge, and he felt himself pitch forward in one brief instant of panic before his hand caught something and he pulled himself back, scrambling in place, struggling to regain his footing. A pole, one of the ones that supported the overhanging roof. He wrapped his second arm around it, tightened his grip, catching his breath as his heart hammered in his chest.

So much for that thought.

His forehead fell against the cold smooth wood, and he sank to the porch, shoving himself away from the edge until his back hit the wall. Couldn't even make it through his own house like this. What did he really expect?

The rain made him shiver, running down the back of his yukata, but it gave him an anchor point, something to connect him to the world around him. Something tangible in the darkness.

At least if his body shuddered now, if he couldn't keep it in any longer, it was only the cold, and if his face was wet, it was only the rain.

He hated himself for wanting to believe it.

[Toboe]

“Idiot, you're going to catch a cold...” Shirio sat beside Kouji with his back against the wall, his head making a light thud as he let it fall against the door. He glanced over towards the Hyuuga, then away again, water dripping from his soaked bangs. “You were right though, not to trust me. As much as I'd like to pretend to be team-leader, to know right from wrong, I'm actually the last person who should be in the position.” An uneasy sigh escaped out between his lips. “One mistake is all it takes. One mistake can lead to the failure of a mission, give away your location... kill your closest friends. I made that mistake and they paid the price. I messed up and lived while they did nothing wrong and died.” He was crying, something he tried to hide with a swipe of a wet sleeve, but it did little to hide the occasional sob.

“Every day I go to the memorial to remind myself of what I have to lose. For a little while I had nothing, but now... I have you, Ayana and sensei. It's something I can't lose again. At least... not like that.” He pulled his arms across his chest, carefully considering what he was about to say next. “I hate the rain... I hate the night. It was a night like this that I was told that my brother had died. My parents... my brother, my team, my pup... Life as a shinobi isn't easy. Orphans are made every day and no one stops to think about it. They just accept it, like it's normal, but it isn't, is it? It breaks us, it hurts us day after day. It isn't a void that just magically goes away. In some ways it just grows larger with each passing year.”

The Inuzuka pulled his knees up to his chest, letting his forehead rest against them with a quiet and defeated sigh. For awhile he was silent, just sitting there, all of his confidence stripped away leaving behind just the lost kid he really was. “I'll leave team six. I think at this point it'll be for the best. I'd like to say I did all I could to make it work out, but honestly it was too little and now too late. Teams are a single unit, each member an individual part that makes it whole. If one part isn't compatible... well... the team breaks.”

[Sabaku]

Kouji jumped at the voice, too close, cutting across the rain and the distant roll of thunder. He felt himself flinch back, from what he didn't know, but after a moment the tension subsided. It wasn't like he had anything to hide now, anyway.

His hands fell into his lap, one cupped in the other, the rain pooling there one tiny cold drop after another until it filled his hand and overflowed through his fingers. It was like holding ice, but it wasn't a bad feeling, so he didn't move.

Inuzuka's tone was strange. If the words were a tremor that shivered through him like the thunder, the undercurrent to them and the slow realization of what it meant was the lightning he couldn't see. His tone was soft, but faltering, trembling, halting, and every few words his breath hitched, falling out of rhythm. He was crying, and he didn't want Kouji to know.

He lowered his head, and listened, and said nothing.

The rain filled the space of quiet between them, and as the thunder came again it was softer, growing more distant, rolling on and on and on in tumbling echoes whispering across the sky. The pool of rain in his hand spilled out between his knees as he turned it over, flexing the numbing cold from his fingers.

Loss was cold like this, too. But not so easy to push away.

"It isn't." His own voice was steady, but quiet, too quiet. He drew in a slow breath, let it out, closed his eyes, ineffectually, at another guttering rumble of faraway thunder. "We can't just pretend nothing happened. I guess we're still kids after all. We're not ready to be on our own that easy."

Kouji couldn't remember what it was like, when he'd been told his own parents were dead. Maybe it had rained then, too. Maybe not. What he remembered was trying to grasp at what it meant, and never really being able to get hold of it, trying to understand that he wouldn't be able to see them again, expecting to and then telling himself, with all the old fire he had in him, that they were dead, and they'd never be coming back.

The fire was gone, and he tasted the ash in his mouth.

His hand went out. It found Inuzuka's arm easily, next to him right where he expected it to be from the closeness of his voice, and he gripped it tightly, using it to push himself to his feet. His legs didn't feel quite steady, still, but it was the cold. Or so he told himself.

"I want to go back inside." He pushed his hair back out of his face, brushed his fingertips against the door as he let his hand fall. The handle would be easy enough to find, but Inuzuka was sitting there, and he didn't want to fumble at it with his cold-numbed fingers anyway. His hand landed at his side; he balled the fingers into a fist, stretched them out again, let them curl back in on themselves like a shrinking leaf.

"You don't have to leave. We're not much of a team anyway." Kouji felt his eyes move uselessly, searching, for what he couldn't say; he shut them irritably. The sensation made him nauseous. "I can't see, Shirio. I'm not much of a shinobi."

[Toboe]

Shirio looked over to Kouji as he stood, watching momentarily before letting his eyes gaze back out into the night. What did he want him to do?! Go or stay? Shirio had no idea that Kouji's mind wasn't easily made. After a minute or so he stood as well, stretching with a subtle grunt. He supposed it was time to go inside, they'd catch a cold if they lingered outside any longer.

“You're so quick to put yourself down...” He reached out, his hand landing on the door handle but didn't quite yet open it. “You're stubborn, if nothing else. In a few days, after you've rested, we'll figure out what to do. Sight is just one of our many senses. The others, in time, will adjust to make up for what you lost.”

Shirio slid open the door, waiting for Kouji to go in before himself, pausing halfway with a sudden realization. “He called me Shirio...” He closed the door the rest of the way, shaking the water from his head, out of habit and with little consideration, apologizing as he nervously went to get a towel to clean up the mess.

“Kouji... we... need to get you out of those clothes... You're going to get sick.” Shirio walked over to him, bunching up Kouji's sleeve and giving it a squeeze, dripping water to the floor as to prove a point. He had no doubt that a Hyuuga would be... uneasy.. about the idea of dressing in front of another. It amused him a little, what was there to hide? They had the same parts.

“And then after that you should get some rest. It's been a long day.”