After
by vernajast
Raidou and Genma...without Hayate
(the chuunin exam, the village, the world go on, even after)
"I'm going out. Don't...don't wait up for me..."
I'm too fucking ashamed when Raidou leaves. It's getting close to every night now, and I can't even focus enough to keep a senbon in my mouth when I'm not out on a mission. Gotta chew on a damned toothpick. Those things break so fast. Like me. Like us.
[hand through long hair, whispered "shit."]
In the dark days after the Kyuubi destroyed the village, it was Raidou who held us up. Held us together. Hayate and me, ANBU with no more family left in the world to protect, he became our family. Our anchor. He had two shoulders for our two heads to lean on, to cry on. Two hands to hold. A heart he didn't mind splitting between us.
When they were injured-fucking Rock and their fucking exploding tags-I took care of them both. One minute changing Rai's dressings. The next, shooting Haya full of slimy, gray medication. I loved them both and wanted to take care of them, put everything I had into making them better, healing them. Together they healed me, too.
Sometimes, I'd come back from a mission, shell shocked and fucked up, ready to end it right there, and there was Hayate. Half-cocked, droopy-eyed grin. Hands you'd never guess were made for wielding a sword, for killing-and damned good at it. On those nights, they were both there to rub my back while I heaved it all out, to clean me up. Nights I needed them to fuck me senseless, so I couldn't feel the lingering crunch of bone beneath my fingertips. And nights they simply held me, each other.
We were parts of a whole. Bound together. Pieces that fit. We were complete.
The day...the day of Hayate's funeral...we came home, me and Rai, to an empty house. Too fucking empty.
The sound of the door closing rang off walls that only a day before had echoed with laughter, instead. It was still too easy to see an imaginary Rai chasing Hayate around the living room, waiting for me to finish making the curry so we could eat. Had to get down to the stadium for the next round of battles. Had to...so Hayate could...
Oh, shit. It's been weeks now, maybe months. I stopped counting. And it still feels like he's on a mission somewhere-Wave Country, maybe-and he'll be back any day. Any minute. Just come in and drop his katana by the door, his pack, his nasty old boots I couldn't make him throw away.
He'll come in and ask why we're so damned depressed when he sees me and Raidou sitting on the floor, tepid tea on the table, just watching the door for any sign of him.
It's 'cause we weren't ready. Our Haya. We still aren't ready to let him go. He was our best friend. The quiet strength between my loud mouth and Raidou's louder laughter. The gentleness that offset our blundering. That made everything alright again by soothing away the emptiness and filling it with pure emotion. Taking the edge off.
He was ours.
[door slamming, steps taken toward the memorial stone]
Without him, we're falling apart.