[Closed] Ruined Wood, Broken Strings [GRADED]

[ShinobiTruth]

Sleepy eyes slowly parted as the plucking of the koto's strings drifted down the halls and up the stairs, rousing the young Maru from his slumber. Recognition of the sound came slowly, but once his brain realized what it was actually hearing, his eyes shot open, and the child could feel the smile form on his face as he rose up from his futon. Maru had learned that playing the koto was a sign she was taking a small break from her work around the home. The music she played was unlike anything he'd heard in the village before, and it always entranced him. As he walked into the living room, he lay eyes on Mom: jet black hair, caramel skin, and green eyes, just like his. Her eyes cast over to Maru, and she smiled as her darling boy stared hard at her hands moving over the vibrating metal strings. Dad, quiet as ever, looked up from his scroll and grinned at his son, clearly seeing how enthralled his son was in the music and the magic behind it. It was a mystery he clearly sought to understand, and his father's strong will made certain he wouldn't stop until he'd figured it out. Joy and curiosity exuded from the boy in waves. Not one to deny her son the joys of music, Maru's mother bade him closer.

The eager pitter-patter of bare feat echoed upon the hard-wood floors as Maru quickly found his place in his mother's lap. She would resume playing, but this time more slowly, sometimes plucking single strings or chords with emphasis. She knew her son well. If given the opportunity to observe, he would seize it. And he did just so, each punctuated note and fifth locked firmly in the boy's mind. Though his hands were still too small to handle the strings, he was starting to feel like he could understand which strings made which sounds. He wanted to learn the instrument so badly. But Mom and Dad said he had to do well in his classes at the academy this semester before they would teach him. 'There will be no neglecting your studies,' Dad would say. Maru hoped Mom would object, but in dismay, she would always nod in agreement. Still, his dread for schoolwork wasn't enough to stop him from learning the Koto. His first semester grades were coming out soon, and Dad and Mom would be proud. Surely, they would be.

After finishing her piece, Mom took Maru's hands, gently laying her hands over his. She would guide his hands to the string-

---

Maru snapped awake, inhaling sharply as absolute darkness greeted him save for the slim beam of light beneath his door. Exhaling slowly, he could feel the bite of the cold tingling his lips. Though spring was here, the mornings were still bitter, before the sun had yet to touch the mountains and the land with its rays. Despite being roused from slumber, Maru continued to lay motionless for several minutes, his mind bitterly reminding him of his current reality. Mom was dead. Dad was dead. Mr. Seng was a criminal, responsible for the murder of hundreds of innocent people because of the possessed items he'd help circulate through Iwagakure's criminal underbelly. The country had been ravaged by five years of brutal warfare. Many of the people he'd trained with when first coming to Jousai were now dead as well. It hurt to feel. Most days, it hurt to even be awake. Even as he now pushed himself out of bed, he was hardly certain as to why. Perhaps it was habit that prevented him from going down a much darker and final path. Maru didn't truly know, and he hardly cared. If it distracted him from the thoughts that sought to torment him, it was enough. Training. Missions. Rest. Food. Those were enough. He didn't need anything else.

Those things didn't hurt. Much, anyways.

After a shower, Maru made it down to the Mess Hall. He had the same breakfast he'd had for the past year now: a fried egg over a bed of rice. He could see the rookies' eyes lock onto him even as he passed them and sat down, but he'd quickly learned to ignore them. Better for them to at least feel free to talk about him than to be terrified by him looking back. The nicknames had made it back around to him. Iceberg, Snowblood, Frozen Eyes. They were pretty creative. People said looking at him made their blood run cold. If the nicknames made them leave him alone, then they could call him whatever they wanted. Even in his stupor, he didn't have time to waste caring about what people thought of him. He had work to do.

Today was his day off, so he took himself to the same place he always did: the old block where the music shop used to be. This had never been an active hub of business, but there were a few shops scattered here and there that had still been open before the raid. But after Mr. Seng's arrest, the rest of the owners packed up and moved elsewhere. They were a superstitious lot, thinking that in a fit of vengeance, Mr. Seng would release malicious spirits upon them even after he was gone. Maru couldn't blame them, frankly. Given what he was responsible for, it was a reasonable paranoia to have, even if it wasn't true. Maru had personally requested permission to demolish the old buildings in this area. He used training and contributing to future development for the village as an excuse. Only one of those things was true, but it most certainly gave him something he could channel that ice-cold feeling into, that chilling something that had started to grow in his chest after his Dad died and crystallized once Mr. Seng was arrested and taken away.

Maru could certainly take the buildings down faster with ninjutsu, but he preferred to use his hands for this. Setting his jacket down a safe distance away, he quickly took a once over of the building before carefully choosing his first point of attack. The building falling on him would hardly be an issue, but it would be annoying to have to relevel the ground after he was done. He'd had to do that after what happened to the old music shop, and it was a reminder he'd rather avoid...

[Kao]

Shizuo lowered his head in frustration as yet another experiment failed. He waved away the thick smoke that had filled the room and then turned on a desk fan to circulate the air in his lab. How many times has he failed now in this endeavor? He checked his notes. 128. Much worse then the 64 times it took him to perfect his favorite fuuin jutsu, so he was starting to become annoyed. ’How hard could it be to create fuuin with parasitic effects?’ he wondered with heavily furrowed brows as the threw away the thick yellow parchment and began picking up the pieces of a severely burned rat carcass.

”That’s enough for now,” the jounin sighed after cleaning up his mess, speaking to the empty space. For the past several weeks he’d been holed up in his newly renovated lab, hiding from the world and hoping when he finally emerged, the village’s slow limp toward normality will have picked up to a brisk stroll.

The war has taken its toll on everyone in Iwagakure. Many of those who had fought on the front lines were now buried, and the survivors were hardier than before. Colder. The crowds of civilians had thinned and quieted, and markets seemed populated by dazed specters. Even the wildlife was affected. The birds of prey that had once flown proudly in the skies above the village had vanished, displaced by the battles that scarred the country. The already scarcely vegetated landscape was, in some areas, as barren as the desert. The scavenger population had exploded, as the beasts and vermin that fed on the flesh of the dead were able to thrive. After all, there had been plenty of meals to choose from during the war.

Shizuo tried his damndest to think nothing of the carnage he had witnessed. During the war he was an essential source of support for many squadrons, and was a often the reason why the shinobi he worked with weren’t completely wiped out. Still, his failures haunted him and he threw himself into his work. Today, however, the white walls were too stifling, and he ventured out of the lab for the first time in days.

The jounin found himself wandering familiar places. One stop was favorite bar, now abandoned after the owner and his son perished in one of the war’s final battles. The apartment complex nearby where one of his best friends lived was mostly dark and quiet. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, not since she relocated to the west to rebuild. A flower shop, closed. A restaurant, still holding on to business. The man sighed, trying not to let the changes affect him. Eventually he made it to the block where a music shop once operated. Shizuo almost bypassed this area, but he heard what sounded like distant thunder coming from that direction.

Shizuo carefully approached, watching the younger shinobi pummeling the buildings. His face twisted with curiosity, and once he was within earshot - but still safe from flying debris - he waved his hand in the air. Perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, but he wanted to be sure to get the young man’s attention. ”Yoooo! Maru!” If the other man heard him and stopped, he’d approach. Otherwise he’d keep a distance so he wasn’t taken down by hunks of brick and concrete.

[ShinobiTruth]

Strength born by necessity rent concrete and steel asunder with fist after unfeeling fist. When Maru had first started this exercise, he hadn't realized how much physically stronger the unforgiving throes of war had made him. Had he attempted this before, he likely would have fractured every one of his fingers from repeatedly striking a reinforced structure like this. Whether that was a blessing or a curse, he didn't have the clarity of mind nor the curiosity to meditate on. For over five years, nothing had been clear. Conflict, internal or otherwise, had dominated his life. Whether it was the inexplicable disgust he felt for a slave trade he had participated in and that his village condoned, the turmoil of being unable to reconcile with his father, Mr. Seng's betrayal, the years of bloodshed he had seen and inflicted firsthand... That wasn't even counting the lifeless faces of friend and foe alike etched indelibly into every moment, playing in disparate order like a malfunctioning film reel. Somewhere deep inside, Maru knew that something feral, psychotic, murderous lay behind this cold veneer that he wore. It was a dangerous amalgam of every insecurity, doubt, and disagreeable sentiment he had held to himself for the sake of common decency, twisted and mutated into something even viler by the traumas of loss and daily brutal violence. Maru didn't know if he would ever find a way to confront it, but enough of a sense of his humanity remained for him to know that if he couldn't, it had to stay locked away, whatever cost that might demand of him. He hoped that through this, this well might dry up enough for him to finally look inward without losing himself.

The sound of crashing rock and twisting, whining steel quieted long enough for a nostalgic voice to pierce through the cacophony that surrounded him. His mind cycled through the memories of voices he recognized almost as mechanically as a clock. There was no one he was particularly close to, not anymore. Tatsuo had returned suddenly and was immediately whisked off to his office as Tsuchikage. A large number of the old guard at Jousai had perished, and those that remained now served as administrators and upper staff officers in its hierarchy. He can't remember the last time he saw any of them. He didn't go out and fraternize; he had no friends to speak of among the new recruits, and none of them dared follow him... At least he was pretty sure they wouldn't if their hushed whispers were any indication. Then who? Why did this voice, even far away, seem so...?

Ah. Yes. Him. They had been friends. He hadn't seen Shizuo since the day Maru killed that assassin that had tried injecting that malicious spirit into him and handed Mr. Seng over to be arrested after uncovering his involvement in an illegal spirit trading operation. Why had Maru blocked him out of his mind? The young man couldn't really say at this point. Perhaps the reminder was dangerous? Maybe he was concerned about resentment at Mr. Seng somehow poisoning his reasoning and causing him to blame Shizuo for what happened? He sensed both were correct, which was about as clear of an answer as his addled mind would grant him for now. Turning, his eyes met Shizuo's even at a distance. Whatever Shizuo had feared would occur the last time they saw each other had almost certainly come true. Gone were the eyes that burned with silent intensity and quiet curiosity outside of what most humored themselves with. Like precious stone occluded by dust, silt, and muck, eyes startlingly cold and dull for one previously so full of life and aspirations would be all that Shizuo would find. His entire appearance had changed considerably, the more intricate tunic that had adorned his torso traded out for a deep green trenchcoat of sorts, modified with steel plating on the shoulders for combat, which sat resting on a stone nearby. A short-sleeved thermal shirt that clung closely to his form contrasted with brown tactical trousers and black combat boots. He'd grown by nearly six inches, and any sign of adolescent youth had been shredded away, finely toned muscle apparent from the contours of his back through the thermal shirt alone. If he didn't move, he might well look like he was carved from marble and then painted to resemble a human from a distance.

Maru hadn't been expecting anything approaching a social interaction today. He didn't talk most days if he was being brutally honest. Nothing about what came next was going to be anything approaching natural or comfortable. "Shizuo...san," he greeted, almost like he had to remember to add an honorific. In most of the platoons he'd been in during the war, he was either the leader and discarded honorifics between himself or his subordinates, or they were replaced with military titles. Despite having been bludgeoning this building to pieces for half an hour, he hadn't even broken a sweat. "I'm surprised to see you here... This entire block's been abandoned for years now," he commented, casually brushing off a couple of motes of rubble that hadn't already fallen from his shoulder with a sweep of his hand before turning to face him.

[Kao]

It had been awhile since Shizuo had socialized in such an informal manner, and it has been even longer since he’d heard someone say his name in a tone that was so devoid of warmth. Not since the war has he felt such a chill emanate when saying something as simple as a name. From what he recalled of Maru, this was in stark contrast to his general personality. They had only interacted a handful of times, and more than a few of those interactions were marred by unpleasantries and grief. Still, the boy he remembered was zealous, eager, and conscientious almost to a fault. At some times he was awkwardly formal, sure, but Shizuo had enjoyed his company.

Now he stood before someone who was almost unrecognizable. It wasn’t unusual for shinobi to bulk up when a war effectively demanded it, but this level of growth and the change in his demeanor suggested something deeper. When their eyes met a shockwave of emotion ripped through Shizuo. In an instant he felt concern and sadness for the boy - the man - and wondered what exactly had happened in a little over five years that had broken him down and built him back up in such a dramatic fashion. The jounin’s head tilted to the left, the corners of his lips turned downward, and his brows scrunched. The expression flashed across his face in an instant, quickly replaced by a pleasant smile. He made a show of relaxing his shoulders as he approached. ”I decided to take a walk. This side of the village isnt normally where I take my leisurely strolls but somehow I ended up here.”

The entire area was a safety hazard. Every other step was blocked by twisted metal and shattered concrete, and it was difficult to tell that the area used to be bustling with people and activity. One look told Shizuo that Maru was responsible for most of - if not all - of the destruction. ”I’d ask how you’ve been, but based on everything I’ve seen in the last minute alone my guess would be pretty terrible.” He raised an eyebrow and added, ”Unless, of course, you’ll surprise me by saying you chose to tear down this specific neighborhood with your bare hands just for fun.”

[ShinobiTruth]

An unguided meandering to a desolate, abandoned village block? It seemed convenient, but if it was fitting for anyone, it was probably Shizuo. Given his penchant for the ethereal and mysterious, Shizuo's work likely took him to various seemingly random places in the village studying, capturing, and experimenting with spirits both benign and malevolent. Maru had intended at one point to specialize in a form of sealing similar to Shizuo's own techniques, but given what the war had demanded of him, that notion had to be abandoned. Maru wasn't so stuck inside of himself that he didn't notice the variety of emotions that crossed Shizuo's face before his composed smile returned, slipping on as smoothly as a second skin. Maru couldn't blame him. He at least didn't recoil, which Maru respected; most of the Jousai greenhorns couldn't face him without flinching or visibly shaking.

Maru tackled the task of demolishing each of these buildings from the top floor down. Despite the innate desire to bust down as many buildings as possible in as short a span as possible, the walking statue knew well enough to lengthen the duration of his tactile therapy by doing things more sensibly. Just bulldozing the block whole buildings at a time in one fell swoop would make for much more disorganized cleanup work for the construction brigades over a larger space. Breaking the buildings piece by piece meant the rubble was contained to each plot on which it was located and it meant that the roads would require less restoration work. Even in his mire, Maru's considerate nature managed to peek out in subtle and minute ways. Whether Shizuo noticed this was uncertain. Maru didn't really notice it himself. One thing that Shizuo might notice was the difference in the destruction in this building versus the literal barren crater where the music shop once stood as if a wind spirit had disintegrated whatever once stood there without a trace to recall it to memory. What that represented Maru certainly wouldn't tell.

Muffled echoes and shrill wines resonated on the outside of the wall before him as he punched out another three chunks of concrete from the building, but it wasn't with the same determined vigor with which he had been progressing before. It was clear that he was struggling to find something to say that didn't immediately dismiss him, regardless of how unsettled he was at having company. His fist raised to strike again, but then they slowly dropped to his side. "The village was going to demolish these buildings anyways... Figured I'd save the workers the trouble," he explained bluntly, his voice as flat and unreadable as the foundation upon which they stood. "I'm alive. And I can work. More than most can say at this point."

The weight of those words was something that hung between them, given their shared experiences in the war. Shizuo didn't have to guess hard to figure out where they had sent Maru... and what exactly he had seen. Of Iwagakure's casualties of war, the majority of them were suffered on the front line. Shizuo had seen countless of his squadmates and platoon members slain, their lives snuffed out with as much meaning as the chaff of wheat brushed away from the threshing floor. It was Maru's burden to bear witness to veritable oceans of desecrated corpses and unchained carnage, their honor and aspirations staining the ground crimson. After the first major battles of the war, he couldn't bring himself to draw close to anyone. He didn't see the point if they were going to die the next day... and most of them did. With the nightmares that inevitably came afterward, he had little choice but to deaden his heart lest he lose what little of his sanity remained at the time.

He had to change the subject. "How's the research going? Did your department finally make it through all of those possessed items we confiscated before the war?" he asked. It was a risky shift given that they were connected to that man, but he didn't have many options at his disposal.

[Kao]

There was a reason for almost everything. If Shizuo had learned anything in the past few years it was this simple fact, especially when it came to humans. Whether that reason was for love, for hatred, or for war. For expression of one's feelings or the concealment of one's intentions. Human actions boiled down to some sort of purpose ninety-nine percent of the time. Typically, all it took was a bit of careful observation for Shizuo to deduce why people did the things they did. Maru was no exception. The people around the younger jounin might have found him esoteric and impossible to read, but for Shizuo that wasn't exactly the case. After all, his job to analyze and interpret, to find what others could not. Maru was seemingly now made of stone, but even stone had markings and indentations that could tell a story.

The subtle change in energy as he attacked the concrete was one such feature that added texture to his statuesque mask. So was the way Maru's fist fell to his side after a moment's hesitation. It was as if he didn't want to answer but had eventually resigned himself to explain why he was tearing the buildings apart. "How kind of you to help," he mused. "Some things don't change, it seems. I bet there’s people that are relieved about that." Shizuo didn't elaborate what he meant by that, at least not right away. It was something he felt Maru may have needed to let marinate for a while.

The shift in conversation was about as subtle as a mountain troll in a tutu. But the jounin has no problem with following the flow, no matter how much he had to tiptoe through it. "The research is...let's say it never stops. As far as those possessed items go, we sorted through most of them pretty quickly. Of course when the fighting broke out I had my hands full with other things, so a few of that stuff is still locked away or on a shelf somewhere.” Shizuo paused and shifted his weight to his opposite foot. His grey eyes bored into the younger shinobi as he carefully contemplated what he would say next. “Are you interested in seeing them?”

[ShinobiTruth]

Maru didn’t reply to the first statement, perhaps not quite catching Shizuo’s meaning. Maru hadn’t come to this place out of any sense of altruism. He’s been simply looking for a space to vent himself physically without causing any damage to the village; the fact that it coincided with the village’s development plans was purely happenstance. Did it relieve people? He wasn’t sure. Not a single person who he spoke to about the request could avoid a cold sweat. If anything, Maru had unintentionally intimidated them into granting his request. They likely used whatever reasoning they could to get him out of their hair, and for the walking statue, that suited him just fine.

Not content to merely stand and talk, Maru took to collecting the larger chunks of concrete and gathering them into one large pile at the center of the floor where they stood. Having something physical to do made it easier to think of responses, though those responses were usually curt and final, leaving little room for extrapolation. For most people, this acquired trait made him insufferable to talk to once they got over the intimidation factor. Then again, most people were not as patiently discerning as Shizuo could be.

Despite the well-meaning intentions behind Shizuo’s offer, the air violently shifted for a brief moment as Maru froze, his hand squeezing harder on a piece of rebar so aggressively that the metal quietly whined as it compacted and twisted in his hand. Shizuo had stepped ever so briefly into dangerous territory, and the space between them suddenly pulsed with the unspoken pressure of rage as every muscle in Maru’s body seemed to tighten at once. It was impossible to separate those items from the memory that stoked Maru’s anger so, his war-addled psyche still clearly remembering every piece they had carried off in the midst of that great betrayal. ’Calm down, Maru,’ he told himself as he took a second to exhale deeply, aware Shizuo meant no ill will by the gesture. The moment passed as quickly as it came, but the split-second punctuation that now indelibly accented their conversation gave the probing Shizuo plenty of information to work with. ”No… That wouldn’t be wise,” he replied softly, returning to his task.

[Kao]

Maru's shift electrified the air around them, causing the hairs on the back of Shizuo's neck to stand on end. He was immediately on alert, and instinctively took a defensive step backward. Had he miscalculated? Even though Maru was now a one-man bulldozer, Shizuo hadn't expected such a vicious, visceral reaction to his question. What on earth had happened to this kid since the last time they'd had significant interactions? Other than being angered at their recklessness, Shizuo hadn't been very personally affected by the takedown of the smuggling ring. Maru, on the other hand, had to deal with not only his mentor being arrested but also the fact that the man sent an assassin to kill him via a malevolent spirit. Suddenly the golden orb that hung at his side felt heavier.

"Okay," the jounin nearly whispered, his tone soft and soothing, "okay. I overstepped. Thought it wouldn't hurt to ask, but clearly...clearly what happened here still weighs on you." Shizuo sighed deeply, his hand reaching up to rub his neck. "Why don't we go for a walk and a meal, Maru? You can always pummel this place in solitude later."

[ShinobiTruth]

Maru couldn't articulate it, but part of him felt bad for clearly startling Shizuo. Much like a wounded animal that snaps at the hand of a rescuer, Maru's reaction simply wasn't one that he had as much control over as he would like. But another part of him had gotten used to the numbness, the cold, the silence. It was hardly what he wanted, but they served as protection against the pain that he simply couldn't face right now. Some more well-adjusted people might compare the well-meaning inquiry of a friend as a shot of medicine. It would hurt at first or perhaps taste foul, but the effects would be worth it. For Maru, it was like a tendril of ice breaching the surface of a rock, expanding, driving deeper, threatening to reach the core and pushing out until it cracks, causing everything to crash and crumble away until nothing was left. Before he'd died, before the war, Maru never understood why his father didn't open up to him.

Now, Maru didn't understand why he had ever tried to himself.

Shizuo's next offer was a lot more innocuous, but Maru reflexively looked for reasons to decline anyways. If this trainwreck of a conversation had demonstrated anything, it was that Maru wasn't ready for unexpected social interactions of basically any kind. Despite this understanding, Maru couldn't stand the idea of being fake. He wouldn't give a reason and not follow through, meaning he had to have one, and on that front, he'd come to a knife fight with what amounted to a stick of cotton candy. Besides, the next time he had a meeting with the higher-ups at Jousai, he'd likely get grilled again for not associating with his peers and not contributing to the unity of the village (or something to that effect). A sacrifice now would save him grief later.

With an awkwardness befitting a monkey trying to put on a business suit, Maru awkwardly tossed the piece of concrete he had in his hand into the pile and dusted off his shirt and hands. "...I guess dumplings wouldn't hurt," he relented. If Shizuo had known exactly how basic the young man's diet had been since the war started, he probably would have been horrified. Dumplings were basically a luxury item in Maru's eyes, far too fancy and impractical to consider on anything other than the rarest of occasions.

[Kao]

"Great! Let's go then!" He knew he was probably being a bit too enthusiastic for Maru's taste, but the jounin made no effort to hide the relief that washed over him. Shizuo truly hadn't expected Maru to accept the invitation. He reminded Shizuo of the jaded soldiers that had returned from the war as completely different people. Those shinobi had resisted him as well, but after a some drinks and dinners a few of them were able to open up to him even if it was just a crack. Helping others in this way helped Shizuo as well; he had been locking himself in his laboratory for mere days at a time rather than weeks.

The restaurant he had in mind was quite a ways away in the northern underground sector of the village. It was where the affluent went to play, making it one of the liveliest areas in the village. Usually. In the months after the war the activity there had lowered considerably. But one particular village leader had poured money into the businesses there so that the citizens of Iwagakure would have some sort of reprieve from the war's aftermath. On the way there, Shizuo would glance at the younger jounin several times to gauge if he could get any kind of small talk out of him. He expected to mostly end up speaking to himself, but for the time being that was something he would simply have to navigate in real time.

"I know a place that has the best dumplings in the country. No joke. Eriko - that's the owner - is a genius. Had it not been for the war I'm pretty sure she'd have restaurants throughout the country." Shizuo spoke of her dreamily, his eyes practically sparkling as he reminisced about the meals he'd gotten from her. The war robbed the man of his usual nights out of course, but Eriko had been stationed at nearby outposts as a cook. Her tent where she made savory soups and noodle dishes from practically nothing was one of the only sources of solace near the battlefields. "Her dumplings are incredible. You should try her katsudon, too. When was the last time you've had good katsudon, Maru? Cause I promise it was nowhere near as good at Eriko's."

[ShinobiTruth]

Shizuo's enthusiasm was definitely his own. Maru's mind almost immediately began wondering what he had gotten himself into. Taking his coat, Maru didn't bother to put his arms through the sleeves and simply draped the garment over his shoulders. The familiar pressure of the sealed journal bumped against his arm, reminding him of its presence. It seemed insane that perhaps many of the answers Maru's tormented mind sought were very likely within the pages of the small book, but the hands that wrote it made such a task much more daunting than anyone could fully appreciate. A forbidden treasure it still remained, and at least right now, there was no telling when he might finally open that tomb of unspoken words. Still, Maru knew one thing: he wasn't going to dare let Shizuo know that it existed. That was a battle he simply wasn't ready to face.

Having kept to an incredibly narrow and strict routine, Maru quickly came to realize that he didn't recognize much of his surroundings past a certain area of the village. He had known more about the general village layout, but being so distant from everything and everyone around him had dulled his memory and familiarity with the village as a whole. His eyes looked around and found more things to remember than he had expected. New signs, new faces, different smells and sounds to which he was accustomed... They all coalesced into a mildly paranoid sense of uncertainty, and though he didn't sense any significant danger, his eyes sharpened slightly with uncertainty. Despite his imposing bulk, Maru naturally shrunk his posture. He felt exposed, and he couldn't explain why.

If he was being completely honest, Maru only faintly kept track of basically everything Shizuo said before he directed a question to Maru himself. Shizuo would find his starstruck reminiscence with his favorite restaurant and its owner met with confusion and uncertainty. Despite everything that happened, the people here seemed to carry on, almost as if the war never happened. Maru vaguely understood that it was important to move forward, but he couldn't understand how people moved on so easily. Had they seen what he'd seen? Been where he'd been? How do you forget that? Taking at least a moment to respond to Shizuo, he shook his head. "Don't know... Can't remember," he answered briefly, those four words enough to say what needed to be said.

[Kao]

"Ah...is that right?" Shizuo gave a sheepish grin, and added, "Well let me treat you to some. And before you try, no you can't turn it down." While he spoke he couldn't help but think interacting with this guy was a bit like pulling teeth. Still, Maru had agreed to accompany him and it was better than nothing. Once Shizuo was determined to do something - whether it be develop a new fuuinjutsu or ask a woman out on a date - he didn't stop until he either succeeded or there was no other option than to accept failure. And more often than not, he didn't see failure as an option. Maru had bolstered the man's confidence by stopping to speak with him and following him to the restaurant, so now he was determined to break down Maru's walls and find some semblance of the young, starry-eyed boy he once knew.

They mostly walked in silence. Although he kept quiet, he kept his eye on Maru the entire journey. Shizuo would watch for any sign in his eyes and facial expression that would serve as a window into his mind. By that point he knew he wouldn't get much out of the younger jounin verbally, so he'd have to rely on body language and other silent expressions. Shizuo was already pulling Maru out of his comfort zone, and he thought it would be better to gently guide him rather than push him over a cliff into a sea of socialization. It was later in the afternoon by the time they arrived, the time of day where the hustle and bustle of lunchtime and noonday errands died down and bled into early evening. Normally this time would be just before the explosion of evening activities and boisterous nightlife, but nowadays things were calm even long after the sun retreated below the horizon. The crowd was sparse, but the atmosphere there attracted laughter and plenty of hand-holding couples of all ages. Here in this part of Iwagakure, the citizens were able to put aside loss and grief and look toward new beginnings.

"Shizuo-san!" As soon as the pair crossed the threshold to the small and unassuming restaurant, a pretty, bubbly girl no older than seventeen came bounding toward them. She gave a slight bow to both Shizuo and Maru, but she never took her eyes off the older shinobi. "I haven't seen you in a few weeks. Thought you forgot about us."

"Never. Is Eriko-san in? I've brought a friend." The girl turned to Maru fully for the first time and greeted him, but within seconds her eyes were back on Shizuo and she giggled, "A wingman, huh? You don't know when to quit."

"I thought I heard trouble." Shizuo's grey eyes turned to his left, and a tinge of pink crept into his pale cheeks. A woman dressed in red emerged from behind a partition, her hands folded gracefully in front of her. Her long brown hair bounced with each click of her heels as she approached them. The stunningly beautiful beamed at Shizuo and then at Maru, clearly pleased to see a new face. She introduced herself as Eriko, and for the first time that afternoon Shizuo wasn't able to speak. Under the gaze of her boss young girl hurried to seat Shizuo and Maru, and once they were seated and the two women disappeared into the kitchen the jounin released a breath. It was a slow day, so Maru and Shizuo were the only customers in the establishment for now. At Shizuo's request, Kiyo guided them to a private room near the back of the establishment. It would give them privacy once the restaurant inevitably attracted more customers as the night went on.

"It's just us in here and Eriko and Kiyo are really kind. So you can relax, Maru. I'm gonna loosen up with a drink, ok?"

[ShinobiTruth]

Shizuo's silence was prudent. To describe Maru as a stray dog untrusting of new surroundings would hardly be inaccurate. His eyes captured what they saw and stowed them away into his mind with the same amount of emotion as a documentary film reel. If Shizuo was paying close attention, he would notice Maru staring a bit harder at any individual who clearly appeared to have been part of the previous slave caste, often notable from their more traditional attire. It would have been an absolutely worrying sight to behold on its own, but if Shizuo did catch Maru in those moments, he'd see the fog over his eyes break more than any point before. He'd see some fragment of the old Maru in there, and with it, a single, poignant feeling: deep sadness, accented by what Shizuo would only surmise as regret. It was an unspoken demonstration of empathy that perhaps was foreign for any normal citizen of Iwagakure, but Maru was clearly no ordinary man.

If there was one thing Maru was grateful for, it was that Shizuo allowed the majority of their walk to proceed in silence, the ambiance notwithstanding. These were parts of the village he hadn't really ever explored. Given his station and what might soon be expected of him due to his strength, he at least saw the practical need to become more familiar with the various zones in the village he didn't otherwise have reason to visit, even if that came through a semi-forced lunch with a past associate. Was it awkward and uncomfortable? Oh, certainly. Still, beggars couldn't be choosers and for all intents and purposes, Maru was playing Go with Shogi pieces. He wasn't particularly in a place to say he knew what he was really doing.

They finally arrived at the restaurant that Shizuo had chirped so eagerly about before. It was a humble building, to be certain, but it appeared to be solidly constructed. Shizuo opening the door elicited an enthusiastic greeting from someone inside, and Maru looked down at a young woman (Kiyo, he would later learn) practically skipping toward the pair. Maru blinked when she bowed and awkwardly returned the gesture. There wasn't a single sensation wafting off of Maru that didn't scream clumsy awkward wreck. Maru's eyes followed Shizuo's at the sound of a voice as graceful and delicate as crystal ringing from the left. The woman was most certainly captivating, and Maru might also normally find himself flushed at the sight of someone so graceful as she exuded tender compassion without words. While Shizuo was clearly bashful, though, likely drinking the sight of her for every second he possibly could, Maru quickly averted his gaze, his face stone cold but his eyes wavering, unsettled, even haunted. He wasn't able to look upon those gentle, emerald eyes of hers, though they were so much like his own.

They reminded him too much of his mother. The thought of her was one of few things that could still draw tears from his eyes.

He wasn't rude, but he responded with as few words as possible, even with nods if he could. Maru secretly hoped that he had been too smitten with the sight of such an elegant woman to see that instance of turmoil, and if Shizuo didn't address it, neither would he. Instead, he simply nodded at Shizuo's reassurance, quickly trying to work through the small pit that had formed in his stomach.

[Kao]

It didn't take long for Kiyo to return with their drinks and a few appetizers. Maru had, predictably, not said much when asked what he would like, so Shizuo took the liberty of ordering him some water and potstickers. He, on the other hand, indulged in a bottle of sake. As he drank he pondered over all the ways Maru had behaved in between leaving the old neighborhood and and being served their late lunch.

The man had noticed everything. Most people ignored slaves - or, the indentured servants - unless they were having direct dealings with them. Even Shizuo usually paid them no mind and he hardly ever gave their plight a second thought. So after the second or third time he followed Maru's gaze to a slave, Shizuo mentally paused and took note. In those moments Maru didn't look so imposing and coldly fierce; he looked more like a person, like a dynamic human being with deep thoughts and emotions. But Shizuo was confused. As far as he knew, Maru didn't own any slaves - though admittedly he knew almost nothing about the younger shinobi's home life both then and now. He didn't understand the reaction so, naturally, he wanted to pry. But behind Maru's eyes was the sort of sorrow and remorse that couldn't be carelessly brought up.

Shizuo thought for sure that Maru would find Eriko's presence relaxing. From the moment she stepped into a room her beauty and grace radiated from her like a warm light. Strangely though, Maru recoiled from it. "Eriko is so beautiful, isn't she?" He figured talking about a woman would be the easiest ice breaker at this point. "But she's not quite your type, huh? You must be the only guy for miles that didn't give her a second look."

[ShinobiTruth]

Shizuo definitely was doing the lion's share in this exercise, even as they were seated and were serviced by Kiyo, something that Maru had to admit he appreciated. Maru wasn't openly rude to Kiyo, of course; she was doing her job well and was an absolute gem of a person to boot. Maru wouldn't think to consciously be mean or cold to someone who at the bare minimum did him the courtesy to not judge him by his countenance. Still, his social capabilities couldn't quite meet him in the middle, thus the most he could manage to offer was a slight nod of thanks. Despite his legendary constitution, Maru had never partaken of alcohol and frankly didn't know anything of his potential tolerance. He waited patiently for Kiyo to fill their order, unable to offer anything in terms of small talk.

Yet again, Shizuo came to the rescue, though the question that this rescue came with presented its own complications. Maru knew that Shizuo was aware of his mother's passing when he was a child (at least, he was pretty sure), and even before the last five years, it had been harder to discuss than Maru likely made apparent to those around him. Yet Maru hardly wanted to give Shizuo the impression that he disliked Eriko or thought less of her. What Shizuo thought of his tastes frankly didn't matter, but Maru did see it as a slight to someone who didn't deserve it if he didn't offer some explanation. Besides, maintaining peace with others also meant he could keep those walls up where he needed them. He'd give the information necessary, nothing more.

Though Shizuo would have to be patient as he sought how to best articulate himself, Maru would shake his head slowly. "...It's not that," he explained quietly. "You don't need a second look to tell how special she is... Anyone would be lucky to know her."

Maru paused, his brow furrowing slightly as he compelled himself to get the words out. "Her eyes... Her grace... Her warmth... She's too much like my mother."

[Kao]

Shizuo paused mid sip. The mention of Maru's mother sent a jolt through Shizuo's chest as the words set in. He suddenly remembered that Maru's mother had passed away in his childhood, and it had been a source of pain for the young jounin ever since. The first time the two met they had talked about their parents and it became clear they each had vastly different relationships with their mothers in particular. Back then, Shizuo and his mother, Tsuru, weren't on the best of terms and his relationship with his father wasn't much better. Maru had even witnessed the strain between mother and son first hand when they both delivered a koto to her home. He wondered if Maru remembered. "Ah, yeah. I remember you talked about her way back then. It must still be hard for you." He downed another shot of sake - his third - and then nearly dropped the saucer onto the table. "Looks like I took you from one bad memory and put you in another."

He poured himself another shot and then pushed the plate of potstickers directly in front of Maru. "You can't avoid beautiful and warm women forever, Maru. And beating up your old neighborhood? Doesn't look like that's the best way to go about coping either." Shizuo knew plenty about coping. Days after he and Maru took down Mr. Seng, Shizuo was forced to confront his own mother and question her involvement. She told him what he already knew, and he found himself serving her a warrant he'd already had prepared. He had to arrest her, and at the time he didn't know how to sort through his feelings about it. It took years to forgive himself for it, but even now he sometimes wrestled with it. With that memory in mind he downed his next shot in earnest. "I don't mean to overstep or pry, Maru, especially since it's been years since we've even sat down and talked. But I can tell things are bothering you, and based on your actions and expressions alone I think I've figured out maybe seventy percent of them."

Kiyo brought them their food, an array of dumplings, vegetables, and katsudon. When she disappeared again, the jounin gestured toward the food and added poignantly, "Destroying reminders of your past is one thing. Confronting them and digesting them is another."

[ShinobiTruth]

Maru sat silently, taking a single potsticker and slowly chewing on it. His focus was less on the food and more on the words that had been let loose from his conversation partner across the table. It was a lot to take in, to be certain, as Shizuo decided to take the direct approach. Coping, huh? This was hardly the first time Maru had a conversation like this. Doctors, half a dozen psychiatrists, a litany of other shinobi, all of them had given similar advice. 'You can't live in the past.' 'Count your blessings.' 'Focus on the positive.' During those times, Maru had simply nodded. He hadn't had the patience or the presence of mind to tell them exactly how furious those platitudes had made him. To Shizuo's credit, he at least seemed to be more considerate in his approach, but even though Maru knew well enough that Shizuo had also likely been deployed, it was hard to simply accept his counsel carte blanche. Was it really just moving on? Or was it pushing it away? Forgetting what had led to that war, to so many people not coming home?

Maru had been prepared to be a shinobi. He had been prepared to fight, kill, and die for his village. But nothing can prepare someone for war. Nothing could have prepared him to have to face that alone, his father having died shortly before the war. Nothing could have prepared him for ripping people, children, away from her lands and culture in figurative chains. Those people, now having been enslaved for well over five years, had never asked for that. All they had wanted was to live their lives in peace. That little girl's eyes from the slave traders' outpost still haunted him to this day, just as much as any nightmare he had from the war.

He chewed for a long time, swallowing slowly and taking a deep breath. Then... "...That wasn't my old neighborhood... That crater we walked by on the way here was where the music shop was," he revealed, staring hard at his water as he grasped for words.

Maru had tried the therapy early on after the war. He'd tried talking things out, sharing his feelings, using words to try and relieve the lava that flowed through his veins. Nothing had worked. Nothing had abated the misery and resentment and the rage that he had inside him. By the time he realized what he needed to do, he was well past the point where his strength could be contained by stone and metal. He was a living, breathing calamity living in a world of delicate crystal. The moment he lost control of that well deep within him, it wasn't just Maru that would suffer, and he knew that. The humanity he still had left was just enough to force himself to seclude and isolate himself, lest he let his guard slip and he let the floodgates loose.

Maru daintily picked up another potsticker, but not before he spoke. "I became what the war... what my village needed me to become, in spite of my doubts... And now, I am an earthquake in a house of glass," he reflected, exhaling slowly. "When words aren't enough, what's left for me to quell the fire, then? What point is there in tears if the storm that follows would doom me?"

He took a bite of another potsticker, hoping the taste would help drown out the silence that hung between them.

[Kao]

"Oh, I know," Shizuo slurred slightly when he broke the silence. "Trust me, I know. After our mission I spent enough days there removing joruri to know the place even when it's flattened. I meant you spent enough time there that it might as well be your neighborhood. A second home with a lot of emotions and memories tied there, no? Why else would you have taken the time to annihilate that spot in particular." In the break in conversation that followed, Shizuo slid a few dumplings and a modest helping of katsudon onto a small plate and slid it in front of Maru. Afterwards he served himself but didn't take a bite right away despite his watering mouth.

Maru's reply was weighty, and the jounin needed a moment to think about how to respond. It gave Shizuo a bit more insight; the younger shinobi felt words were impotent, ineffective, so he may have tried talking to someone at some point or another. He understood that firsthand since he had also tried therapy to deal with certain losses in his life. Therapy had helped but only to a certain extent. There were still times that he refused to leave his lab for days on end, and it wasn't always because he was engrossed in his work. The war and its horrors still haunted him and he still felt immense guilt for choosing duty and tearing his family apart; he had simply grown skilled in hiding that fact. Knowing Maru had similar struggles made Shizuo even more grateful that Maru had accompanied him, and it made him more pensive as well. "When words don't work...then you take some sort of action. And I don't mean demolishing a village block, though I can see how that gets a bit of the frustration out. But that's not enough, is it? Once you've completely destroyed that place then what? Are you gonna destroy something else?"

Finally he took a few bites of food, savoring the way the katsudon's flavored exploded in his mouth. The man held back a moan and continued. "The war was...it was war. Now we're expected to keep going. And we have to, otherwise we spit in the face of everyone we lost. There's nothing wrong with shedding tears, Maru. Weep for the dead and mourn the living but don't forget to move forward. And for whatever's bothering you, brace yourself and face it. When you're ready, yanno? And you don't have to do it all alone cause there's pretty of plenty - plenty of pretty girls in Iwa to take your mind off things. And me, of course."

The man sighed and tried to pour himself another shot of sake, but he found there was hardly any of the beverage left. "That turned into a lecture, sorry 'bout that." When he spoke next, a touch of melancholy entered his voice. "I just hate to see my friends suffering."

[ShinobiTruth]

Maru willed himself to reach for the bowl of food that was presented to him, but the pit in his stomach still churned, sapping his appetite. He knew Shizuo wasn't wrong. His entire shell had been a reflex of restraint above anything else. The emotional isolation it brought was simply a convenient crutch that helped further distance himself from the demons within him that threatened to rampage. But that didn't simply wipe away his doubt or his bitterness, and it didn't simplify the danger of confronting those demons. Even with everything that happened, there was something more fundamental that tore at him. Was it worth saying? Would Shizuo even understand? Would his promise of support truly hold if a source of his consternation wasn't what Shizuo expected? Maru deliberated on the matter. Then, for perhaps the first time that day, Maru looked at Shizuo of his own accord, the depth of his anger finally clearly visible for the first time in years. It wasn't violent anger, thankfully; his years of emotional suppression prevented it all from flowing out at once. But it was potent, and it was undeniable.

Maru's tone didn't change in the slightest, but the conflicted expression on his face spoke more than his words ever could. "...And if one of those demons is something my village condones? ...What then, Shizuo?"

Maru's eyes fell to the water cup before him, but he did not retreat back into his shell, not this time. Maru didn't give much time for Shizuo to recover from the possible gut punch that statement inflicted before he continued. "I was never ignorant of my privilege as a kid. We were always well off with my father's salary as a shinobi, but we never owned any slaves of our own. Still, we would see them every day. My mother and my father treated any slave sent to them well. My mother, in particular, would always make something for them to take with them: food, a garment, something small and practical. When I asked her why she did that, she told me that she treated everyone in the village how she wanted to be treated, no matter who they were, and she made me promise to her to do the same. I didn't really understand at the time, but I loved my mother. So, I upheld that promise, and the slaves always responded kindly. It made me happy to see their eyes light up over such a small gesture. To me, they were just people, like the rest of us," he recalled, both hands cupped around the small glass between them. "But shortly before the war, Tatsuo took me on a mission with him to meet with traders at a village far to the northwest, near the center of Earth Country. To be honest, it didn't occur to me to ask what kind of cargo we were moving. I was a starry-eyed, newly appointed jounin, and Tatsuo was my hero. We rode for two days before getting to the camp. I still remember the crunch of the snowfall that second morning under my boots as we awoke, how excited I was to learn something new about the village. It wasn't until we got to their camp that I realized what... or who... we were moving."

Maru shook his head, tasting bile in his mouth as he continued recounting his tale. "They were being kept in a lightless basement, not a blanket or fur between them to keep warm in the dead of winter. There were at least thirty of them, the youngest of them only a little younger than I was. Tatsuo got into an argument with the traders which later turned into a full-blown battle. Apparently, the 'cargo' should've been kept in better conditions than what the traders were giving them... like they weren't living, breathing people right in front of us. I hated every single one of those traders. Nearly laid one of them out flat for daring to talk to me before they all started shooting us anyways. I demanded they be given furs to cover themselves for the trip home and food to eat, thinking myself a decent person for giving half of a damn. But as I rode away, swatting away flaming arrows from the sky, I realized... the hypocrisy of it all."

Maru allowed himself a sip of his water. "There I was, wanting to think of myself as a hero for protecting a carriage full of innocent people, hoping that there was something about everything I had witnessed that I didn't fully comprehend. I thought, 'Maybe they were starving. Maybe they had nothing left anyways and chose to take their chances...'" He shook his head, his voice unintentionally becoming more intense. "It took a single little girl for me to really understand. She didn't speak our language well. It was amazing she could speak it at all. But she asked me in her broken tongue... if they were going home. Their home. Not mine. I realized it then in my heart... I wasn't a hero. Neither Tatsuo nor I were anything of the sort. We were jailers... and that carriage was a prison on wheels. It was filled with people whose blood was just as red as my own, faultless save for being born under a different sky than the one we see from the safety of our walls. I wasn't any better just because I saw what was happening for what it really was; I had broken that promise I made as a child all the same. This was what my village does... It profits from ripping people away from their homes and their cultures, and it leads them away to a foreign place in chains for the sake of its own greatness, its own power. Whether it's for the entirety of their lives or only part of it, the cost they pay is the same. They lose a part of themselves they never asked to be taken away from them... And now, I was complicit in that sin, too."

Maru could only imagine what Shizuo thought. Did he think him childish? Ignorant? A potential traitor? Maru didn't know, and he wasn't certain he cared. All he could do was tell his story, one he'd kept so close to heart. "That same day, my father died in the line of duty, any memory or answer to the questions rolling around in my head lost with him... And in the months that followed, the war began," he concluded. "I was stationed on the front lines of nearly every major military campaign during the war because of my brute strength. Even for vets like us... The things I've seen... Even with all of that, the little girl in the back of that carriage was right alongside the faces of the brothers and sisters I buried on the field, haunting my nightmares. Every time I went to sleep, waiting for the sounds of explosive tags and the warcry of enemy samurai to awaken me, I'd still see her... A reminder to a loyal soldier of what he was really fighting for... What so many others were dying for."

Maru had subconsciously pulled his shoulders back during the start of his revelation, and they slumped forward as he revealed the untimely death of his father. "I love this village. I love what it could be. And part of me deeply wants to believe what you're telling me. But I don't know if there's a single person in this village that can help me fight these demons, Shizuo... I fought and broke myself for a place I love with every part of my heart even though it stands for something I abhor with every fiber of my being. I paid with my blood and sanity to protect it," he mourned, his voice heavy with defeat as he stared hard at the table. "...And I don't know how to reconcile that."

[Kao]

Shizuo chewed slowly on the katsudon as Maru began speaking, and he was temporarily distracted by the explosion of juices from the meat and the haze of liquor that was growing thicker by the second. But the longer Maru spoke, the less he was able to make himself continue eating the delectable dishes that lay in front of them. The weight of the younger jounin's words grew with each sentence and they bore down on Shizuo's shoulders until he could feel the pressure in his gut. He tended to stay away from things related to slavery, though it wasn't because of any deep personal distaste for it. Like most people in the village he saw it as something normal, if not philosophically abhorrent, but it wasn't something he'd ever thought about more than shallowly. Some people were unfortunate enough to be on the bottom, and it was as simple as that.

But the war had changed many things, least of all being the status of slaves in the country. Once Maru finally stopped talking and it seemed like everything was off his chest, Shizuo gave a heavy sigh. "Maru...there's a lot to unpack here. I um...." He swirled his cup, watching the clear liquid swirl around for a moment as he concentrated on not slurring his words. "I'm sure there's no point in giving you the 'you're a soldier with a job to do' lecture. You know that well enough and I don't usually think it's appropriate." Although it was a common way to go about handling village affairs, it wasn't in Shizuo's nature to reduce shinobi to their job titles and their orders. It was important to him that Maru knew that, especially since the man had opened up the floodgates and had finally talked about the thing that was eroding him from the inside out.

"If it's any consolation, the situation for slaves isn't the same as it was before the war. It's not as...severe, I've heard. They sign contracts now or...something. I don't know all the details, it's new and a little radical but...it's something, I think. My point is, things are slowly changing. Slowly. You can be the one who spearheads it and moves it along once you pick yourself up." He downed another shot before adding, "But you gotta pick yourself up, Maru."

[ShinobiTruth]

Shizuo, flustered. If Maru had any sort of humor left in his bones, he almost would have smirked. For Maru, seeing him like this was a first.

The differences in their viewpoints became clear as Shizuo started to formulate a response. He certainly wanted to be supportive, but it was evident that Shizuo's view of the situation was more academic. Maru didn't hold it against him; for the other villagers, slavery and serfdom was so entwined into everyday life that practically no one noticed or paid any mind. The populace only interacted with them if they directly addressed another villager, and their conversations were almost entirely transactional in nature. Besides, Shizuo had saved his life. Even if he didn't truly see things the same way that Maru did, he could at least count on the fact that he cared enough to try and meet him halfway.

Maru ears largely fell deaf to what he perceived to be forced optimism on Shizuo's part. Having half a vial of poison in your veins instead of a full one didn't make it any less poisonous, any less wrong. The last part he did hear, though, and it reminded him of his position again. Pick himself up, eh? With what strength? He'd given so much to others, to his village around him, that when he'd tried to dig deep into himself to find the will to move forward, the wells came up dry... and his arms were too weary to pull himself out. No therapist or counselor or inspirational speech was going to immediately change that. He needed someone who understood. What hope did he have to find that here? Anywhere?

Maru finally allowed himself a bite of his katsudon. Even though it had cooled, it was still wonderful. He swallowed slowly, taking a moment to let the bite settle before speaking again. "How, Shizuo? How do I do that when I have nothing left within me to give? I can shatter mountains and crack the earth with a step... but I've never felt so weak before."

Maru looked at Shizuo again. Despite being so young, his face showed his experience, like every other broken man before him that Shizuo had reached out to. "After everything we did, everything we've seen... I'm so tired. How could you not be?"

[Kao]

Shizuo snorted. He couldn't help it. Maru wasn't the first person who assumed the war hadn't taken a heavy toll on Shizuo. The man was masterful when it came to redirecting his emotions and frustrations to something more productive. He was every psychologist's dream, the embodiment of healthy coping skills and stress management. That was, of course, only if his actions and words were looked at through a positive lense. Most people couldn't tell since he did so infrequently, but Shizuo was a heavy drinker. He hid it behind bars and parties and other social events, but the man didn't drink because he enjoyed the taste and the hangovers. He drank because the alcohol loosened him up and because it made him forget. Not only that, but he tended to lose himself in his work. His work ethic was, at its core, another way for him cope. If he was obsessive enough, he could fix the mistakes that lead to the deaths of hundreds and ensure those mistakes never happened again. Shizuo worked for days on end until he passed out or, on days like today, he remembered there was a world outside of his lab and that he had an image to uphold. And, more importantly, there were people who needed help much more than he did.

"I'm more than a little tired, Maru. I-" At that moment a chorus of shattering glass came from outside their room, and seconds later Eriko peeked her head in and smiled. "Oh my. Kiyo has made a mess. Shizuo-san, do you mind helping her?" As soon as she showed her face Shizuo perked up and he stood before she could even finish her request. He swayed for a moment before giving the woman a rather goofy smile and then he shimmied past her to find the source of the broken glass. Eriko watched him leave, and when she heard the distant sound of Shizuo and Kiyo speaking she turned toward Maru.

"I hope you don't mind me pulling him away, Maru-kun. He's a big help when he's trying to be impressive." She didn't wait for him to respond. Instead, she took up Shizuo's empty seat and pushed the empty bottles and saucers toward the middle of the table. "You'll find it's in Shizuo's nature to try to be helpful, even when he doesn't quite know what to do or say. But enough about him." Eriko looked over to Maru. He would find her green eyes were warm and nurturing, understanding, even. The woman carefully placed her hand over his and squeezed it gently. "People with the biggest hearts often hurt the most. Sometimes it's unbearable. You and I know this first hand, Maru-kun. These things can't be rushed. Take as long as you need." She anticipated he wouldn't say much, so instead of trying to coax a verbal response from him she would try to place her free hand on his shoulder and let it rest there for a moment. Her soft smile never faded, no matter his response.

[ShinobiTruth]

(OOC: Bringing back an oldie but a goodie!)
The cacophony of fracturing crystal and tinkling shards cut Shizuo's words to the quick. And then from around the corner, she reappeared. Maru's blood ran cold, realizing exactly what he'd just done. Every word that he'd spoken to Shizuo had fallen indelibly into her perfect ears, and in his paranoia, she couldn't stifle the fear that his words could bring him more trouble than he had ever asked for. This... this could be bad. Very bad. Would his future now doom him to wear the chains of a traitor because he dared disagree with the powers that were?

His fear was palpable even as she approached, yet even with his guard up, Eriko's unconditional kindness brushed aside any possible defense Maru could muster. An abused animal feared the touch of even a loving person, but once that tenderness was shown, every taut cable, every snarled fang, every quaking muscle stilled and gave in. As much as he hoped to be more than such, he couldn't rise above that weakness. Eriko slipped past his defenses with every word, every movement, every glance, not even an inconvenience as she effortlessly peered into his heart. He finally looked her in the eyes for the first time, and he realized that the door that she opened could be entered both ways. But she knew this. There wasn't any way she couldn't know. She... was beckoning him in. Why? What did she know that she wanted him to see?

'People with the biggest hearts often hurt the most. Sometimes it's unbearable. You and I know this first hand, Maru-kun.'

Maru's eyes searched Eriko's... and he quickly found the answer. Even if she had said nothing, he knew exactly what he was looking at. For a moment, he couldn't understand how it was here. But his instincts knew: it was a reflection of what he had carried with him these past five years. She was cursed with it, too. Inside someone so gentle, so earnest, so unconditionally loving... Pain. Anger. Loss. Despair. A grief so deep, so indescribable that even seeing it made his heart bleed. The emotions crossed his face subtly at first but became more potent with each passing moment: Fear. Resignation. Curiosity. Confusion. Shock... Sorrow...

Indignation. Fury. Rage at whomever or whatever had caused this woman to suffer so. Misery, knowing she, having done nothing to deserve it, had that agony inflicted upon her. It made him so furious that he couldn't see straight.

But no... It wasn't fury that blinded him. His eyes stung. He felt water streak down his face. Tears? He was... crying? For her? One was followed by many. His eyes fell to her hand upon his own, a ragged breath escaping his chest. He wanted to know what had befallen her so that he could find vengeance for her, but he hurt for her so deeply that it choked his words. "I... don't understand... I don't even know what you lost... And yet I..."

He shook his head, meeting eyes so much like his mother's as the tears continued to flow. "...H-How...? How do you have the strength? I don't understand... Please. Please. I need to understand."

[Kao]

Eriko, in general, wasn't someone whose facial expressions could be easily read. Usually she made a conscious effort to appear serene with a kind smile that was seemingly perpetually etched onto her lips. It helped bring in customers, certainly, and it led to no shortage of potential suiters who attempted to court her. Shizuo wasn't immune to her effect, but like other men he was captivated with her fabricated persona, with the idea of her. They could attempt to romantically appeal to her week after week, yet so far none had been able to see through the expertly crafted mask she wore daily. But this boy, a young shinobi that she had only met an hour before, was able to see through her immediately. Her pain, her sorrow, her anger. He recognized it with ease because it was something he likely saw within himself whenever he allowed his gaze to meet a mirror.

When the first tear fell free from his eyes, Eriko didn't hesitate to place a warm, gentle hand on the side of his cheek and use her thumb to wipe it away. He crumbled before her eyes, and the cracks in her heart burned. She didn't know him in the slightest, but he felt so familiar sitting next to her. "Oh, Maru-kun. I found it piece by piece. When you're empty, truly empty, sometimes the easiest way to find strength is to find it elsewhere. In a friend, a lover. Even a pet. You can't draw from an empty well, and grief is the most enervating force there is." The woman placed her free hand on the back of his head, and if he allowed it should would guide it to rest on her shoulder. If he stiffened, her fingers would briefly rest there.

"The moment you find solace in something - anything - grab onto it. Firmly, but not hard enough to break it. Nurture it. This may not be what you want to hear, and it may seem like it will never happen. But it will, Maru. And once you do, you can start to truly heal and feel how strong you are." She nodded her head and smiled while holding his gaze, a silent but powerful gesture of encouragement. With every fiber of her being, Eriko hoped her words would reach him. "You still have so much room in your heart, Maru. I can see it as clearly as I see you sitting next to me."

[ShinobiTruth]

Damn it. Eriko had her own battles. She had her own struggles. And yet here she was, helping him. Holding him. Giving of herself in spite of everything she'd endured, everything she still suffered, and Maru could offer nothing in return.

Damn it all.

Maru was utterly helpless against Eriko's empathy. When Eriko's hand bade him lean against her shoulder, there was no hope of resistance. There was projection here, yes, but it was impossible for Maru to not obey her touch. Her demeanor and her manner of speaking were simply too much like his mother's, belying wisdom that few her age possessed. It took him back to that sterile hospital room as he watched his mother waste away. The guilt he'd felt in being so helpless as she weakened with each passing day was something he'd never told anyone. He hadn't even realized how much that alone had eaten him up until now himself. His sadness and his grief brought it back to the forefront of his mind, and as Eriko looked down at him and told him exactly what he needed to hear, he could not help the strange resolve that formed within his heart as the tears flowed. Her words almost proved to be prophetic; just as Eriko had given of herself to help him, Maru would not see that gift unpaid in kind.

"I... I will try," he softly acknowledged after absorbing as much as he could from Eriko's words. For a time, he simply remained as he was. Whether it was a serendipitous twist of fate or perhaps his mother's spirit from the grave that had fated this meeting, there was one thing that Maru knew for certain: this woman deserved just as much happiness that she wished for him... and despite her gentle nature and her kind words, Maru knew that the wounds she bore also hadn't completely healed. Maru didn't pretend that he could fix every wound, that every crack might be sealed. He was no god. He couldn't bring back whomever she might have lost, and there would always be some pain at the memory of it. But a broken ceramic can be made even more precious than when it was whole if it is was lovingly repaired with gold. She deserved that and more.

Perhaps it was childish to make the promise he was about to give to Eriko. To be fair, most people might feel having your head cradled by a complete stranger made one seem quite childish in and of itself. Maru didn't care. Their immediate connection was enough to make Eriko someone he now cherished, insane as it might seem. He would not relive his mother's death again. She had given so much of herself without asking anything in return, just like Eriko. He would not simply accept being helpless in the face of a loved one suffering so. And so, after a time of silence, as he rest in Eriko's embrace in a moment of clarity, his voice cleared of his pain and doubt and he resolutely made his oath:

"On my mother's memory... Once I've found my strength again... I'm coming after that pain in your heart, too, Eriko-san."

If Eriko looked down, she'd still feel the same man leaning upon her shoulder. But his eyes would look different. They still hurt, and the pain she'd seen was still there. But even in spite of all of that, she'd also find a piece of the old Maru, one she'd not yet seen: a resolute determination. She didn't have to guess that Maru didn't idly make promises. The doors of their eyes had opened both ways. Eriko had certainly seen into Maru's heart just as deeply as he'd seen into hers, and though he certainly had no clue how he'd do it, Maru would not allow his vow to go unfulfilled. She didn't have to question his resolve. She knew he would fulfill his promise without fail. She simply knew.

[Kao]

Eriko in no way minded allowing Maru to rest on her shoulder for as long as he needed. She could feel that deep down he craved the comfort, and their embrace would set him down the path of healing. It was sure to be a long and grueling journey. With her free hand she wiped his cheek with her sleeve and then gave his face a gentle pat. The young jounin's tears confirmed his detached demeanor was simply a defense mechanism to protect his damaged heart, and the right amount of comfort and support could help him break down some of the walls he had constructed around himself. Maru told her he would try and she smiled, though it was visibly tinged with sadness. This man and his grief brought to the surface a wave of memories that she would much rather forget.

But there was no need to tell him that. Besides, their connection was so instant and potent that he would be able to discern that without her ever saying a single word about it. Instead of stoking her grief Eriko smothered it with a smile, and as she patted his thigh she replied, "Sure, Maru-kun. As long as you promise to take care of yourself first." Maru's resolve strengthened her. There was no doubt in Eriko's mind that he would persevere and dispel the dark fog of anguish that plagued him. "If you need me, you now know where to find me." The young woman shifted so that Maru could sit upright, and once he did she would stand to her feet in a fluid, practiced motion. "I'll send Shizuo-san back in after a few minutes. I think my distraction with Kiyo won't last much longer than that." Eriko gave him a wink and glided out of the room. It gave Maru time to compose himself before the very tipsy Shizuo stumbled back in.

When the jounin returned he looked a bit dazed and he now had a large bandage wrapped around his palm, but his faint smile indicated that the brief interruption hadn't been completely unpleasant. He would have preferred for Eriko to patch him up, of course, but Kiyo wasn't bad company either. "Maru-Maru," he slurred as he swayed a bit while taking his seat. "Where were we?"

[ShinobiTruth]

This moment of stark clarity and companionship was drawing to a close. Maru could sense the cracks in Eriko's heart cooling as she slowly recomposed herself emotionally. He knew that this hadn't been some pleasant stroll down memory lane for her, either. For as deeply and intimately they knew each other from but a single gaze, Maru also recognized that they each were a reminder of what had caused them both so much pain, foils to each others' most miserable and heartbreaking moments in their lives. Though part of him hoped that she would share as freely as he had, he knew deep down he didn't need to. All he need do was look inside himself, and he would see Eriko in the reflection of his heart's mirror. Even now she still struggled, her disarming smile a perfect disguise for her grief against anyone other than himself.

Setting himself aright, Eriko's separation was the fading of a night's fire. Maru didn't break eye contact with her until she rounded the corner and left. All the while, he internalized that vow he uttered not moments ago. He watched as she recomposed that mask she wore, so pristine and immaculate to others... but a saddening and pitiful facsimile of her true beauty in Maru's eyes. Maru made good on the opportunity Eriko had given him to breathe and calm himself. He could only imagine how naive, juvenile even, someone in his state making such a promise seemed. The irony wasn't lost on Maru. But he would not be a hypocrite. Eriko could have chosen to simply offer trinket condolences and empty platitudes of sympathy, but she didn't. She'd opened herself up to him, even if for a fleeting few minutes, and shared her most familiar pain with but a glance. He now had a duty to himself, and to her, to return the kindness he had been shown. He would prove himself true to his word someday. He would not allow himself to fail.

He fervently hoped she would have faith in that promise for relief as well. Though her defense was different from his own, its purpose was the same... and Maru would not let her fall into that darkness that she had started to free him from. As Eriko walked away, fear gripped his heart. Instinct told Maru that no one else had seen behind Eriko's facade. Maybe he was wrong about that, and maybe he was overthinking as he always did. But the thought of her being alone in this suffering further fueled his convictions. When Shizuo rounded the corner, he'd find Maru sitting straighter than before. And when Shizuo sat down, he'd see Maru's eyes just a bit brighter as well. He'd take a moment to answer the question, the bowl of katsudon sitting before him a reminder of the person whose hands had made them.

"...Eating good food... with good friends," he replied softly, picking the pork up with his chopsticks and taking another bite.