What Loss Breeds

[less]

Every day in the Hidden Mist was dull and dreary, but the gods had conjured up a particularly drab, overcast, oppressively gray sky for the day of Jouchaku Jiraiku's funeral.

The chuunin, one of the more respected ones in the village, had fallen during a mission that had taken him out of the Water Country. Both of his comrades survived, and managed to recover his body before returning to deliver the terrible news.

There had already been a wake, a last chance for friends, family, and comrades to see him one last time. Kaiso had attended it almost against his will. He didn't want to see his older brother dead. Jiraiku had always been so strong, so capable- the perfect shinobi. Viewing him with mortal wounds, viewing him as anything less than what he was, almost seemed disrespectful.

The morticians had earned their, pay, though. Jiraiku looked whole, if not healthy. There was something a bit artificial about the way he'd been salvaged, more like a doll than a human, and something cold had unfurled in Kaiso's gut when he'd touched his brother's cold hand and found that some make-up had come off. He then noticed that his lips were a bit redder, and that his skin tone was far too even, and had to walk away.

They had gathered at the shore. Most of the Jouchaku clan was there save for those away on missions, shivering for the lack of sunlight. Also in attendance were several chuunin, even a few jounin. The send-off had a smaller turn out than the wake, but Kaiso appreciated that. He knew his elder brother was worthy of respect, but appreciated the air of privacy it allowed for.

The genin, one of the few there, stood between his mother and father. His father's hand rested on his shoulder, a light reassurance. It was almost too much. One of his uncles was carrying the urn that held what was left of Jiraiku across the sand to place it in the small boat that would bring it out to sea. He could still see Jiraiku so clearly in his mind: smiling, smirking, ragging on him. The idea of him somehow fitting into something so small was almost disturbing, and the urge to shed tears was rising steadily with each footprint that his uncle left in the sand.

He managed to keep his face like stone, though, managed to tamp back the sorrow that was almost like a physical ache. He did it for Jiraiku. A shinobi did not show emotion, and they were both shinobis. It would be among the worst betrayals to mourn him as dramatically as he wished he could. Jiraiku dying was like a part of him dying, and right now, he wasn't sure whether or not he'd ever manage to be whole again.

His uncle reached the water. Tiny waves lapped at the beach, and at his feet when he stepped up to the small sail boat and gingerly placed the earn and its contents into a slat between two boards that would keep Jiraiku safe and secure for for his final journey.

When his uncle had returned to the loose semi circle arranged around the beached skiff, his father walked forward, stopping and turning around to face them. He was silent for several seconds before he began speaking in his deep, slate voice.

”I am very proud of both my sons. Jiraiku was a model shinobi. He lived for this village, and died for this village, and his death was the best death. He died protecting the interests of Kirigakure, in combat. He died on his feet. He died with his honor intact, and in doing so, made it possible for his mission to be completed, for his comrades to return home. I could ask no more of him than this, and so I will instead thank him for his loyalty, his grace, and his commitment. The memories that he has gifted all of us with are everlasting, and we should all be grateful to have known this young man.”

Kaiso had to stop listening. His father continued speaking, extolling the virtues of the brother whose shadow he never thought he'd step out of. The words washed over him, but he couldn't process. His eyes wandered the assembled, watching their faces, their reactions. His father was calm, composed. He could have been talking about anything, by his tone. Most looked like him, their faces blank.

Kaiso sought refuge in memories. They unfolded in a montage within his head. Jiraiku adjusting his arm when he was first learning to throw kunai. Jiraiku blowing steam from his mouth, shaping it in an example of advanced control, using it to supplement stories that he had read to Kaiso before he'd entered the academy. Jiraiku and his friend, Kyogi, teasing him.

Kyogi was there, almost a surprise to Kaiso. He hadn't seen the chuunin in years, and had assumed he and Jiraiku had some kind of falling out. Not that he'd minded; Kyogi had aways been a jerk to him. He looked over at him, but then he felt his mother's hand squeezing his and blinked, turning to face her.

His father had fallen silent. When Kaiso replayed the last few seconds for himself, he realized why. He'd just instructed Kaiso and his mother to join him in sending Jiraiku off.

He took his mother's hand. It was a childish thing to do, but he needed to do it, and no one seemed to react when he did. He could imagine what they were thinking though. Oh, look at little Kaiso. He needs to hold hands with his mommy when he should be showing strength, making his family proud. As he walked with her across the sand, he almost started crying, but somehow, he managed to keep his tears dammed in.

Together, the three of them placed their hands, Kaiso's so much smaller, against the stern of the small boat.

”One.” His father's voice was so low that Kaiso barely heard him.

He had a few precious seconds before Jiraiku would be gone forever, he realized, and so he said his last goodbye.

Goodbye, big brother. I don't know what I'll do without you. You were my best friend. I know you were only hard on me to make me stronger, and I love you for it.

”Two.”

The beginnings of tears were stinging his eyes now. He squeezed them shut before anyone would notice. I'd give anything to bring you back. If there were a way to bring you back, you know I'd never stop, never give up, never-

His father's barren whisper cut him off.

”Three.”

[Ace Trainer]

Kyogi had, unfortunately, been unable to attend the wake, but a fellow chuunin and mutual friend of him and Jiraiku (more so Jiraiku), had been there, and informed Kyogi of the happenings. Though he wouldn't admit it, Kyogi was slightly relieved he hadn't gone. He wasn't very good at standing in groups of people he barely knew, talking. It would have been awkward.

The funeral, however, he arrived in all black garb, and stood in silence as the traditional ways of the Kirigakure funeral to place systematically. His eyes stayed focused on his best friends father, practically a dad to himself, as he told his speech. Not once straying to the urn that he was all too aware held the greatest friend he managed to attain in this life time.

He listened intently, the memories and traits the Jouchaku father was sharing with the crowd overlapping with memories of his own that told much about Jiraiku as well. Kyogi felt honoured, in reality. Jiraiku had died in battle, it was a privileged to die for Kirigakure in such a matter. He'd die with respect, and with many proud of his accomplishments.

As the eulogy came to a close, Kyogi found himself thinking to the final meeting Kyogi and Jiraiku had had together before the mission that took his life. That's when everything hit him at once. He was aware Jiraiku had died, but it wasn't until this very instance that his whole body was aware that his best friend had died.

He felt his fist clench up as he thought about the conversation. He was supposed to be coming over to see his aunt, not being sent off to sea. They were going to catch back up, rekindle their friendship that their work had so gently pulled apart. They were going to work with each other, rival each other in power, work together, teach each other. And Jiraiku went out and died

He felt the anger surging, and alongside that, the shame of getting angry at his friend. As Kaiso, and his parents, counted down to push off the boat, Kyogi was overtaken by a flury of emotion that he couldn't control. How could Jiraiku do this to him? How could he be mad at Jiraiku for dying the more honourable way possible? How could Jiraiku have made plans with him, and then force them to never occur? How could Jiraiku take all Kyogi's respect, and then toss it away by dying like this!?!

Suddenly, he realized his hands were going numb from clenching, and his teeth were starting to hurt from him grinding them together. Then he felt it. The soft, cold feeling of the tears streaming down his cheek. Kyogi wasn't one to cry. It was so out of character, and even more anger over took him as he felt himself crying. Even now, on a boat, as a pile of ashes, Jiraiku had managed to force something out of Kyogi.

Kyogi closed his eyes, putting a momentary halt to the tears, before finally reopening them. Searching the sea for the tiny boat that contained his best friend. As all shinobi at the funeral of equal or higher rank (a sign of respect), would be doing, Kyogi pulled out the one kunai he had brought with him to this event, and brought the broad side to his forehead. Just as the light rainfall began..

Kyogi's tears resumed.

[less]

Together, as a broken family, they pushed. The boat wasn't very heavy- Kaiso could have sent him off himself- but they slowly slid it across the sand and into the water. They pressed forward until Kaiso's legs were immersed to mid thigh, and then gave one final shove from his father, the boat was off, rocking gently on the waves. His mother formed hand seals, and an unnatural swell of water rose beneath it, ushering it past the breakers.

Together, as a broken family, they stood and shivered in the cold water, watching the boat until they could see it no longer. When his parents lifted their kunai, Kaiso just trembled; he'd worn only the colorless raiment that shinobi were forced to don all too often.

By then the rain had picked up, just in time. Kaiso wasn't able to hold back tears any longer. He was sure his parents had noticed when he'd started to gently sob, but rather than meet him with reproach, his father had settled his strong hand on Kaiso's comparatively tiny shoulder and squeezed.

They waded back to shore. Kaiso was sniffling. He'd probably catch a cold after today. The solemnity hadn't broken when they stalked onto the beach, but people had begun breaking off into groups to talk about Jiraiku in hushed tones. Just like that, Kaiso found himself alone; his parents moved off to speak with the leader of their clan, and there was no one that he really knew well enough to talk to.

He noticed Kyogi. He recognized the fact that the older boy was in tears only because he was experiencing the same thing himself. The tell tale shudders, so slight that Kaiso probably would have missed them normally. He was better with machines than people. Save for Jiraiku, there hadn't been anyone he'd ever felt like he understood. Kyogi crying he didn't understand at all.

The blond boy had never had a kind word to spare for him. He'd regarded him as a pest, often openly, and the worst part was that Jiraiku changed a little when he was around Kyogi. All the bitterness he'd stored up over the past few years toward him dissipated suddenly, though, like an imaginary fist had hit him in the gut and knocked his breath out of him, and all those bad feelings too.

There were only two people at the funeral who had shed tears for Jiraiku. That sort of kinship wasn't something that Kaiso could just ignore, and he really did want to talk to someone. Just standing their in the rain and wishing for his brother wasn't helping him cope at all.

Slowly he started to walk toward the chuunin. His longish, bright red hair was damp now, matted against his head, and he would look even paler in the dim light that managed to fight it's way through the thunderheads above.

Shivering almost violently, the boy approached. He wasn't sure what to say, and his features bore hesitation. He knew he wanted to say something, but every time he tried to start, the process stopped before he'd even moved his mouth. Instead, he just looked up at Kyogi with wide, wet, golden eyes that would surely remind him of his friend.

His lip quivered, and his tears began anew. Frustration at his inability to speak, at the fact that his brother was dead, at the fact that the only person here besides him who felt this loss so keenly, began to boil up, and he couldn't hold back. His boyish features crumpled, and without warning he tottered forward and wrapped his arms around Kyogi's waist, burying his face in his wet shirt and shaking as he wept.

[Ace Trainer]

As the salute to the fallen shinobi came to an end, Kyogi found himself practically unable to hold himself up as his arm fell from his head limpy. The entire world around him faded into oblivion as he started into the raining sky. No one approached him, no one acknowledged him. Everyone was all too aware that Kyogi needed time to himself.

The emotions he had just felt seemed to triple...quadruple in power, as they convulsed through his body, tearing into every cell of him. All the anger, all the frustrated, all the sadness, all the pain, all the happy memories being torn from him. And all he could see in his head was the confident grin of Jiraiku, fading away, reminding him again and again that his best friend was gone.

The anger towards Jiraiku for leaving him slowly replaced itself with anger for himself, for crying, for being so emotional. He found himself trying to be realistic, everyone died, Jiraiku was no different. And then he found himself even more angry for trying to place his closest friend in the ranks of the weak and incompetant that died before him. Even then, he found himself even more angry for putting down his other fellows in the name of his best friend.

And all this anger was coupled, making it even worse, with the thought that Jiraiku would laugh at him for being so emotional like this. The rain gently tapped around his skin, as he continued to stare into the dark sky. The sky that, only just recently, Jiraiku had complained about. The sky that, only just recently, Jiraiku said he wanted to get out from under.

He was, now, and Kyogi found that single bright light in this dark storm of a day, as solitude reached him for just a second, knowing Jiraiku had gotten what he wanted. The light was easily overtaken by all the other dark emotions as the tears continued. Suddenly, Kyogi was knocked back into the world, as he was sure he had just collapsed. And the shame overtook his anger as he realized he had to look like an idiot.

When he noticed that the feeling that had brought him back to reality wasn't falling, but was Kaiso, who he had so often expressed a distaste for, grabbing his waist and crying into his shirt. That mixture of emotion, the pain, the agony, the anger, was met with confusion and sympathy as he lifted a hand, running it through the boys hair. Everything he was just feeling seemed to collide with itself, and was overtaken by a sense of duty that Kyogi didn't understand. This young boy, this genin, was on the same level as Kyogi in this very moment.

Not in skill, not in power, but in their weakness. This boy was possibly the only person on the planet that understood Kyogi's bond with Jiraiku better than Kyogi did. They both needed each other at this very instant, and without understanding why, and without believing what he was saying, Kyogi whispered to Kaiso,

"He's happy where he is.", and the tears once again, resumed.

[less]

Kaiso knew nothing of his brother's hopes of escaping. He had no way of knowing, but Jiraiku had too much forethought to tell him. He realized that if he shared that goal, that desire, that the young, impressionable boy would have taken it upon himself as well, even if that wasn't really his destiny. Kaiso could draw no solace from the fact that Jiraiku was finally someplace warm.

All he had to draw solace from was Kyogi.

If he was in any place to think about him, the comfort he drew from his trembling embrace was immeasurable. Kyogi was warm, and that warmth fought off the wet chill that had permeated his young body. The hand that ran through his hair could have been Jiraiku's, if it were colder. His older brother had often teased him about his hair, how much care he gave it, and had messed it up on a more-than-daily basis.

His words, though, meant to be comforting, brought only confusion. How could he think that? How could he think Jiraiku would ever be happy leaving him, them, everyone behind. His brother had always been a protector, and not being there would shatter him.

The old resentment almost resurfaced. He could almost taste bile in his mouth, but then the fact that Kyogi had been crying gave him pause. Regardless of how wrong he might have been, he had cared about Jiraiku, and that meant more than taunts or slights or just plain being mean.

In perhaps the most mature gesture of his young life, he looked up at Kyogi and nodded feebly before burying his face once more. Into the rain-slicked fabric, he mumbled something almost inaudible, his voice threadbare.

”I miss him so much.”

It was simple, but it was exactly how he felt. It was Jiraiku he turned to in situations like this, and that just made his absence cut all the more keenly.

Suddenly self-conscious, Kaiso sniffled and pulled back. It was almost reluctant; the body heat he was stealing only made pulling away from it that much more of a shock. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and regarded the older boy mournfully.

”Do you think maybe... you could tell me stuff about what he was like? When I wasn't around?” The request came meekly, but was too earnest to ignore. The boy only had so much of Jiraiku to preserve and cherish in his mind, and he needed more.

[Ace Trainer]

Kyogi found himself troubled. Kyogi's wet eyes laid themselves upon Kaiso as he watched the boy struggle internally. Kyogi all too aware of what the struggle was. He and Kaiso had never exactly been friends, and the way Kyogi had treated him in the past must have certainly made it tough for the boy to find consolement in him. However, Kyogi continued to rub the boys head, watching him silently as his sobs slowly came to a hault.

Kyogi's confusion marked itself upon his own face as he thought about what was happening. Here he was, giving refuge to a boy that he had recently been discussing with his now dead friend, how annoying and strange he was. Here he was bringing relief to a boy that he had spent much of his friendship with Jiraiku avoiding, and tormenting. Here he was, leaning on a boy that was leaning on him just as much.

I miss him so much.

The words rang into Kyogi's ears like thunder, his confusion swept away by the sadness that had momentarily been placed to the side. The tears that had just managed to dry up, began to well up in his eyes once more. And Kyogi found himself red, in shame, and embarassment, for being so childish about this death.

"I do too, kid.", Kyogi muttered, biting his lip in an attempt to prevent his chin from trembling. His eyes slid shut as the mutual sadness between the two of them overcame him. He felt so childish, so immature, so weak, for this. He was crying just as much as this child.

Suddenly, he was jerked by his shame as what appeared to be the same shame overtook the boy. His tongue pressed against his lips, and his rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb to wipe away the tears.

Do you think maybe... you could tell me stuff about what he was like? When I wasn't around?

Kyogi looked at him, the confusion once again overtaking him, as he took into consideration what the boy had said. He looked to the sky, then back at Kaiso, and nodded. Jiraiku would want him to, "Yeah...that sounds like it'd be good for both of us...", Kyogi said, a weak, but ever-so-rare smile finding its place on his lips.

[less]

Kaiso's shame was not so pronounced. In only a moment, the pain they shared made him realize that missing Jiraiku was nothing to be ashamed of. Perhaps some were watching, listening in. Perhaps wherever Jiraiku was, he was looking on. He didn't think that his brother would be disgusted by two of the people whom he meant the most to embracing each other in order to dull their grief. Maybe it wasn't conduct befitting a shinobi, but he didn't feel very much like a shinobi right then. He felt like the scared, lost, little boy that he was.

He hadn't ever imagined that Kyogi cared about Jiraiku, or anyone but himself for that matter. In his eyes, Kyogi had always been a jerk who hung around with Jiraiku because he was the coolest. The realization that he'd been wrong all along was a bit like a stab from a kunai. Guilt mixed with his sorrow. His brother would have seen through something like that. Their friendship must have been real.

He found himself looking up at someone whom he had once regarded as little more than a bully and beholding him in a new light. He almost looked stunned, and nodded mutely in response to his agreement. His golden gaze remained on Kyogi for a few more seconds before he shifted, turning to look at the gathered mourners who hardly seemed to mourn. Many had dispersed. His parents were still discussing... well, he wasn't sure, but something grown-up.

”I'm gonna go ask my folks if it's okay for you to bring me home,” he mumbled even as he decided it. ”If you want to, I mean,” he added quickly. ”I just thought... it's wet, and cold. And maybe we could talk in his room. I think he'd like that, don't you?” He sniffled one more time, and searched Kyogi's features for approval before hurrying off to tug at his mother's sleeves.

He wasn't there long, only enough to ask his question and receive his answer. Judging by the fact that he looked slightly less miserable, the response had been affirmative. Maybe they were just sending him home so that his crying wouldn't embarrass them, but he didn't care. It was hard to be ashamed about how he felt with company.

Instead of stopping, he just headed past Kyogi, huddling arms around himself just like Jiraiku had done only days before. Unconscious of the way his likeness to his brother might pain his friend, he pressed on toward the village and home. Kyogi knew the way, after all.

[Ace Trainer]

Kyogi was more than confused about the situation he was in as the boy looked on at him. It was in this very moment he developed a lot of respect for Kaiso, possibly all the respect for Jiraiku that could no longer be placed into the corpse. All the times he had picked and teased Kaiso seemed to come back at him, and the conscience that ever-so-rarely reared it head seemed to kick Kyogi in the nuts as the harsh reality of what he had done in the past really clicked in him.

He had treated this kid so bad, and now, he was seeing it, was his opportunity to make up for it. Finally, the kid ran off, and Kyogi found time to remanage his composure, dry his eyes, and fix his clothes. By time he was done with that, Kaiso was back, silently, and leading the way to the home that Kyogi had not spent time in for quite some time.

There entire walk was silent, as expect of them. Kaiso and Kyogi didn't have much in common besides Jiraiku, that was the only reason for their meeting here. Kaiso seemed to be a socialite, while Kyogi was a recule. Kyogi was unmotivated and lazy, while Kaiso seemed to work a lot.

When they arrived at the house, Kyogi followed Kaiso, allowing him to lead the way. He continuously looked Kaiso up and down, being reminded of Jiraiku in his younger days. Of course they were similar, and of course, that stung Kyogi a little deeper. Entering the house was the easy part, it would be approaching the room that both Kyogi and Kaiso would likely struggle with. Of course, they had each other to lean of for it.

"Lead the way, kid. Unless you want me to.", he finally offered.

[less]

Kaiso was just as unsure what to say. Despite his fastidiousness with his appearance, the boy had never managed to totally emulate Jiraiku's easy way with people. He didn't have a lot of friends; in fact, after his brother, his best friend in the world was probably an over-sized steam powered canary made of steel. Compound that with the fact that his present company was Kyogi, and well...

He was just sort of intimidating, in a few ways. Some were obvious. He knew the chuunin was a genjutsu specialist, and genjutsu was more or less his weakest subject. Then, of course, the fact that he'd been a royal dick to Kaiso for so many years. So, how about that time you locked me in a shed when I was seven wasn't the best ice breaker ever.

Then there was the less obvious way: the fact that he was a little jealous. He'd never suspected that the two chuunin had been so close, and even with Jiraiku gone, he had to wonder how much of the precious time he'd had with his brother had been spent in Kyogi's company instead.

These thoughts played through his young mind for the quiet walk. He kept glancing over, almost starting, but some cloying doubt held him back each time. Before he knew it, he was home, and almost as if he'd caught Kyogi's apprehension like a cold, he looked up at him when he realized that they'd have to actually do what they came to.

He swallowed, then shook his head. ”No... I'll go first,” he said softly. He didn't lead on without trepidation, though. It wouldn't have been possible to proceed through the orderly home any slower without crawling. His breath had caught in his chest, stuck in his lungs and gotten cold.

Finally they were there. The door was closed, and his small hand lingered on the knob before he drew a breath and turned it, then swung the door open.

Nobody had changed anything yet. The bed was still neatly made, the corners turned under with precision just as Jiraiku always had before setting out for the day. The bedroom was fairly spartan, without much in the way of decoration. Aside from basic bedroom furniture, there was a small shelf of books, texts like the one that Kaiso studied from in the academy, only more advanced. Slowly, the boy wandered the room, running his fingers over the dresser that his brother's clothing was stored in, the desk against the far wall, finally the bed, which he hesitantly sat on.

”It's almost like he's just still gone on a mission,” he murmured, finally settling his golden eyes on Kyogi once more. His expression was mournful, and streaks still showed on his cheeks from the tears he'd shed, but he wasn't crying.

”Idunno... what you wanna tell me. I just, if there's anything I don't know about him, I want to now that I'll-” His voice broke, and he started again, the words even more quiet. ”Now that he's gone.”

[Ace Trainer]

Kyogi followed the small boy in silence, mimicking his steps as he followed about 2 feet behind. Giving the kid enough time, and space, to hesitate if need be. And to give him a little of breathing room of his own. He wasn't going to be an emotional wreck walking into the room, responsibility and maturity had kicked in. And while he was still upset, and while it was still visible that he was, he had a bit of a more firm control over these emotions, especially being as he experienced ones like these very rarely.

He watched the childs hand linger, and let in a sharp inhale, trying to determine what needed to be said. However, before he could gather words, the boy gathered the courage, and swung open the door. He walked in with relative ease, it appeared, while Kyogi found himself frozen at the door-way while he scanned the room. Everything was as he remembered it, which was even more unsettling. Realizing that the lay-out of this room was imprinted in his mind, with one thing missing. Jiraiku.

The shinobi friend he had lost wasn't here, and the room seem oddly void of anything without him here to bring life to it. For the first time in a while, a coldness over-took Kyogi as he shivered, goosebumps shooting up his spine as he brought-in that he was in his dead friends room.

Tears didn't develop this time, as Kaiso was enough of a distraction now to keep them back. Frustration over-took him with this thought as he realized that, when he got home, he'd likely start crying again. How childish.

He finally walked into the room, and leaned against the desk. His sword hit it with a light thud, following with a deep hum that reverberated through the walls eerily. "I said something similar about my mom...", he said as the strange parallel hit him.

He had never really mourned the loss of his mother, it hadn't really hurt him for some reason. She left so often on business trips, to little out-posts and such to do some catering. When she died, he always felt like she was on a trip...and just never came back. That same feeling over-came him as Kaiso mentioned it, this time, however, it was mixed with loss, rather than a lack of care.

When Kaiso finally turned the spot like a Kyogi, he coughed, and then finally realized he actually did have to say something to Kaiso as he had volunteered to do. "Well...", for the first time, he was at a loss for words.

"Your brother...", he tried to figure out what to say. "Though I'm sure he apologized when I wasn't around, he always felt bad for how we treated you. His conscience was always his weak point...", Kyogi reminisced. "He used to call me a dick, and a horrible influence, because of how he'd treat you when I was around. I mean, I told him to get over it. But, he always felt bad. He had a lot of faith in you, kid. I think that's why it gets to him so much. He's worried us pickin' on you is going to stunt your growth or something. Like I said, he has a strong conscience, Jiraiku. It drives him crazy...", Kyogi had gotten lost in his words, and in his memory, and without realizing it, had switched to present tense, discussing his lost friend.

[less]

He wasn't sure what to expect of Kyogi or his brother as he sat and listened. The world of older boys, of teenagers, seemed almost like some kind secret fraternity. They had their own places to hang-out, their own places to train, their own phrases. It was a mysterious world, one that he often wondered about. Jiraiku had talked about himself. About the parts of missions that he could share, or a jutsu that he had nailed down. He'd never shared much about the details though. Not since... well, not since he'd stopped hanging around with Kyogi. Kaiso had just figured they'd hit some kind of age gap. It was about the same time Jiraiku had started going out with that girl...

The explanation from Kyogi snagged at his attention. Uneasiness gripped his small frame as he listened. The verb tense was almost painful. Each time Kyogi said has instead of had, is instead of was, was like a prick from a senbon. A frown developed on his lips and seemingly spread across his the smooth, pale skin of his face.

Slowly, he nodded, but something about the boy seemed unconvinced, or at least out of sorts. It wasn't the same open despair he'd shown at the funeral, or the wake. It wasn't the disconsolate fugue that he'd been wandering in since he'd heard the news.

”He really is gone, Kyogi,” the steam puppeteer whispered, as if there was some sort of spell on the air that he might break if he was too loud. ”And... it didn't. You guys picking on me, it didn't- well, you probably don't care, but actually that kinda stuff just made me try even harder. Like maybe if I did all the stuff you guys said I couldn't, you'd want to hang out with me and stuff.” His golden eyes fell to the ground between them as he made the admission.

He looked up again, eyes wide and wet. ”How long did it take before you stopped missing her? I feel like I'm never gonna feel okay again.” He'd known about Kyogi's family, but never spoken to him about it before. There'd been no reason, but he'd only now realized that Kyogi had been through this before.

[Ace Trainer]

Kyogi stared at the kid when he was done, nodding appreciatively as the boy explained what ragging on him had done. Inside, Kyogi was a little relieved, he felt Jiraiku would definitely be happy to know this, and part of him felt that Kaiso was now partially his responsibility (though logic told him when he wasn't so upset about it, this feeling would pass.)

He hadn't really noticed how he had been talking, but when the conversation turned to his mom, Kyogi frowned. "My relationship with my mom was.....different.", he hesistated. "She didn't want me to be a shinobi. So, when I did, and started getting a little more cold, it broke her heart. I wasn't close to my mom...and she left town a lot....when she died....I hardly even noticed. It's not exactly the same as this. My mom and I shared a house. Jiraiku and you....shared a lot more.", it hit him kind of close realizing this. Realizing how cruel he had been.

He'd remember to visit her grave later.

[less]

Kaiso simply couldn't fathom the relationship between Kyogi and his mother. He was too young, too inexperienced to realize that parents could eventually become adversaries rather than protectors, that they'd likely mess him up more than almost any other factor of his young life. To him, his mother was kindness personified, even when she got annoyed with him for tracking grease through the house or leaving puppet parts about rather than returning them to the shed that served as his workshop. His father was even more idealized, a man who was always right, always strong, always in control.

Uncomfortable at the way he'd accidentally led Kyogi to something so difficult and incomprehensible, he just nodded weakly. It wasn't difficult to tell that talking about his mother had upset the older boy, even if it wasn't for the reasons that Kaiso would have understood.

”Sorry,” he intoned softly, not sure why he was saying it, but feeling obliged to nonetheless. His legs swung a bit off the edge of the bed, and eager to find something that wouldn't make them both feel so badly, he pursed his lips as he sought alternatives for the conversation.

”What was the most fun you ever had with him?” He was almost surprised by the strength of his voice when he asked it; apparently, not every memory of Jiraiku was going to drag him down. ”For me it was when he'd bring me for ice cream. We both got so cold, so we were always laughing at ourselves, and it was just... really nice. We haven't..” He trailed off a bit, not sure what tense to use, and with his imperfect command of grammar, he stumbled but recovered. ”The last time was the day after I graduated from the academy. He got chocolate, like always,” he finished softly.

[Ace Trainer]

Kyogi shook his head at Kaiso's pointlessly apologetic notion. "Shit happens kid, you'll have to learn that.", he said, not bothering to mind his language. Kaiso had heard worse, he was sure of it, only because he'd likely heard worse from Kyogi. He listened to Kaiso's question and hesitated, the most fun he had had with Jiraiku? That was hard to say. Jiraiku and Kyogi didn't have "fun" they just...hung out with each other.

He chuckled a little, listening to Kaiso's story, "He never told me about that. I probably would have teased him a little for such an adorable tradition.", the word "adorable" was met with the rolling of his eyes, Kyogi was clearly being sarcastic.

"The funnest time I had with him? I don't know, it's hard to say. We had a lot of times where we'd laugh or joke, but none that stand-out greatly. He was my best friend, we just....hung out..", he didn't realized that he had taken such a casual tone talking about it. It was almost as if Jiraiku hadn't passed. "We got in a lot of trouble in the academy. I used to hang kids from coat racks, or pin them to the wall while they were practicing tree climbing. And then Jiraiku would take the heat for it, and I'd get detention for something else. We were trouble makers. Well, I was, when I hit my mean streak. He was just riding my coat-tails", he chuckled lightly again. Thinking about it made it hurt a little less. He was slowly forgetting he had died, just be submersing himself in the memories.

"He expects big things from you, kid.", he finally notioned.

[less]

The swearing didn't bother him, no. It wasn't a habit he'd picked up yet, even when things went awry with his puppetry experience, but hearing Kyogi curse so casually... well, it felt a little like he was being drawn into the teenage world a bit. That was something they did. He'd have to try it out sometime, he decided.

Kaiso's cheeks neared the color of his hair when the chuunin assessed his and Jiraiku's ice cream ritual. It really was kind of goofy, he knew, but he'd still loved it, looked forward to it, even tried to avoid ice cream at other times in order to keep it a little more sacred. His golden gaze dropped to the comforter as he felt hot embarrassment flush his features.

He didn't want Kyogi to think of him as just a little kid, he realized. The older boy was practically all he had left of Jiraiku besides memories, the only person outside his immediate family who he wanted to talk about this stuff with.

A tiny, unacknowledged part of Kaiso had to admit he'd always thought Kyogi was kind of cool. He never would have admitted it, on account of all the crap he'd gotten from the guy, but sometimes, Kaiso wished he could just speak his mind like that too. He knew he was on the shy side, that he tended to listen rather than speak, and Kyogi... well, he had problems, but that wasn't one of them.

His nose scrunched up a bit as Kyogi recalled their days as trouble makers. ”When I first got to the academy, all the instructors were kinda weird around me at first, like they were expecting me to talk back or goof around. I guess that's why. They figured I'd be a trouble maker like you guys.” He wanted to laugh a bit, but could only conjure a thin smile at the sentiment. ”Maybe if I were bigger I might have been, or if I actually had any friends to mess around with like that.” His shoulders rose and fell.

Kyogi's final revelation stole any of the wayward mirth he'd felt. It made his breath freeze in his chest to think about not meeting those expectations. Now, with Jiraiku gone, the pressure was even greater for him to live up to both his brother's memory and his hopes. He swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat and nodded uncertainly.

”I hope I can make him happy then, wherever he is.”