Baki stirred behind the cloth that draped over one side of his face. He was wary of the stares of the two children, concerned he'd spoken the wrong words in their presence (after all, he and most of Suna's forces were untrained in the art of sympathy; Baki himself had spoken at too many funerals to count on his calloused fingers, but still his knowledge of the right words was lacking—generally speaking, he concerned himself more with the shut-up-suck-up-grow-up kind of words).
Baki's gruff voice poked through the continued silence of his own thoughts: "Given Tatsu's—" Baki corrected himself quickly, "—your father's past position, the council has taken interest in your safety and lodging. From now on, you'll be staying with me. Your things should be here by the end of the week."
Silence.
It overwhelmed the room, that utter lack of sound. How first can a room be stuffed with forceful words, that then it be stripped bare?
.
.
.
"What?" Hardly above a whisper. "We came so that we could keep our home."
Baki detected a hint of rebellion in Kuroi's voice, something not at all acceptable in Suna. Something which would be crushed after his first week in the Academy, if he knew what was good for him. "Oashisu Village is no place for two children on their own. The council simply finds it safer for you both to be here rather than there."
Kuroi shook his head and muttered flatly, "It's our home."
"…Your house will stand were it is until you come of age, should you still wish to return or sell it. Until then, though, home is with me."
.
.
.
Slowly, carefully, the small girl named Hitori brought her face out of the folds of her brother's clothing, turned to this 'Baki', and blinked owlishly.
Tick. She flinched. Tock.