Summer Fades

by Nezuko, Prince of Rats

When everyone comes back from a mission safely, if you didn't know them well, sometimes you didn't hear about it until you ran into one of the participants in the halls of HQ, or saw that they were assigned to their next mission with you. Of course your friends you found out about right away, because they came to find you.

Unless everyone didn't get back safely.

Genma knew Sumire was back, because he heard her in the hall outside his door, going in and out of her own apartment. He knew Kakashi was back, because he snooped around and found out he'd turned in the mission report. He knew Taisei was back, and he knew it wasn't good, because he couldn't find him. Anywhere.

The first place he tried was the hospital, where he found out that Taisei hadn't been admitted, but Asuma and Shikaku had. The next place he tried was the morgue.

At least, he thought, it wasn't Taisei.

The morgue attendant wouldn't tell him much. Only that yes, they had received remains of an ANBU agent, and no, it was not Kobayashi Taisei. It didn't take a lot of mental effort for Genma to figure out exactly whose body - or more likely smattering of enough DNA to confirm the death - it was they had and wouldn't tell him about.

At least it's not Taisei, he thought again, and didn't see the walls of the hospital basement, or the tiled floor mopped too many times. He didn't smell the antiseptic-mixed-with-death scent, or see the faces of medics and ninja and civilians all blurring past him as he ran - was he running? - to the stairs to get the hell out of that building before he...

It was the hand of a nurse on his shoulder that got Genma's attention.

"You okay? Shiranui-san?"

He was crouched over a flowerbed at the base of a large tree outside the hospital side entrance, puking up his breakfast on the zinnias. Wiping his mouth, he looked up at the woman in a kind of numb horror. "You...?"

"Do you remember me? I was your night-shift nurse for a couple of weeks when you were here in June. Are you okay?"

"I'm..." Genma took a shaky breath, spat, wiped his mouth again, and gave her a weak, pale-faced smile. "I'm fine. I just probably... I shouldn't have..." He tried to come up with an excuse, but his head was still much too busy with pushing the nausea out of the way and thinking about-

Don't think about-

"Masa," he said, and jerked away from the nurse. "I'm... I'm sorry. I have to go. There are some friends of mine here. Nara Shikaku and Sarutobi Asuma. If you're on their shift, uh..." He stumbled and stared at the nurse who was reaching out to grab his arm. "I have to go."

"Shiranui-san, wait!" she called.

But he was already gone, leaving a swirl of dissipating vapor and the stench of vomit and despair in his wake.

ooo

The funny thing was, the sun was shining brightly and the birds were chirping and insects buzzing. A pair of little purple and white spotted butterflies crossed his path at shin-height, fluttering amongst the late-summer-blooming wildflowers. The cherry trees still had deep green leaves, and the bamboo was still lush, with little sign of the approaching autumn. Only a few aspen were starting to show a vague hint of gold in their crowns.

Soon the maples would be turning--Genma's favorite time of year. He'd have come here with him, maybe, to this wooded hill behind the temple, to walk under flaming red maples. But Masa was dead and the maples were still green.

The sky was brilliant blue, with the sort of high, puffy clouds just made for an afternoon of lazy drowsing under with a lover.

It felt like being mocked.

Not, of course, that Masa had really been a lover, he told himself. He was a rookie. And Genma didn't bother himself with rookies. This was exactly why, because rookies went and got themselves killed, and then where were you? Puking your guts up outside hospitals, and watching birds sing happily in treetops, listening the the sounds of the acolytes at the temple sweeping the porch and raking the sand, as if the whole world just kept turning without taking any notice of you at all, that's where.

Genma lit a cigarette.

Masa. He didn't even know if the kid liked cigarettes. Probably not. He didn't drink. Didn't relax much. Of course, Genma told himself, that was because he was a rookie. Rookies didn't get it that they'll probably die tomorrow so they'd better make the most of today. No, rookies just up and fucking died on you. Died and left you with an invitation to a cousin's wedding you'd never go to, and an invitation to the bedroom you'd never go to, and an invitation to a funeral you wish you didn't have to go to.

Masa had been so cute, shyly asking him if, when he came back from his mission, Genma would accompany him to his cousin Uchiha Taro's wedding. "Only if you'll dance with me there," Genma had told him, figuring Masanori would be too mortified to dance with his male lover at a family function.

But Masa had said he would, if Genma would wear formal kimono.

So Genma had gotten his kimono and hakama cleaned and pressed, and ordered flowers for himself and Masa, and tried to figure out what sort of wedding gift it was appropriate for an Uchiha's out-clan lover to bring to a family wedding...

Not that it was really even reasonable to call Masa a lover. They hadn't made any promises to each other, after all. It was barely the beginning of a fling. With a rookie. Whom Genma didn't get involved with, because rookies were bad news. They'd break your heart.

Just like this.

The cigarette burned down to ash between his fingers before he noticed it again. And his eyes burned. Burned and stung like walking into a cloud of tear gas. Genma binked and rubbed at them, smearing ash and tears across his cheeks. Then he stubbed out his cigarette and went to light a proper memorial for Masa at the temple.