I was returned to my hospital room much later, after many needles and tests and what I had sworn up, down and inside out was a totally accidental suicide attempt. My knee-jerk reaction to being told that if I attempted to mold chakra consciously I would die, apparently, is to immediately test it.
It wasn't like they were letting me go back to work in any capacity without an extensive psychological evaluation anyway. I'd been on a watch list of some sort or another my entire career, what's one more? But at least now I had a diagnosis, a plan of action, and a tentative release date. Sure, the diagnosis was a handicap that would put an end to my medical career, indeed any career outside of administrative, but ah! That had been hanging over me my whole life one way or another anyway.
To pare down a somewhat complex diagnosis, I had come back from the void with not a drop of organic self-produced life energy in me. Wherever that came from, whatever generated it, I'd broken it. I could still produce chakra, mind, the stuff that comes from the coils, but. Every ounce I was capable of actively producing was being conscripted to keep me alive, performing the necessary electrical functions and chemical reactions that should have been the responsibility of my baseline life force. If I tried to draw from it, this somewhat important function would be disrupted, and I would die, again, lungs-first into the void.
I was a chakra puppet, holding my own strings. A chakra zombie, even, care of a catgirl necromancer from another dimension. Suzume-senpai had no idea how, but didn't seem to consider it out of the realm of possibility either. They seemed to think that, given time, there was a chance I might recover the ability to produce my own life energy, but until then, my chakra functioned as life support, and could be used for nothing else.
Interestingly, while my combined chakra stores were completely occupied, I had a sudden mysterious excess of spiritual chakra, that I would… presumably need to find something to do with. I had a hunch about where it had come from, at least. A trip across the veil and back. All those memories of past lives, swimming about in my head. I had knowledge of things I wasn't meant to, now, in a way simultaneously more concrete and metaphysical than ever before.
The fuck I was supposed to do with that, still escaped me. ...Higher-level meditation techniques, perhaps. I'd have to see my way to the library, when I got out of here. Which would be soon- tomorrow or the next day. Not much time to put together a plan for the rest of my life out of rubble and nothing.
In the meantime, while I was awaiting discharge, my team came to see me.
Uchiha Fuyu already had, of course, been here to see me checked in. I had no doubt he was being run ragged, between disaster cleanup and the Uchiha Police. Same went for my other teammates in their respective positions, though Natsuki-chan and Aki-sensei had perfect hair as always.
Yamanaka Natsuki, golden-haired and ordinarily full of smiles, took one look at me and burst into tears. I found myself with my arms full of him, and a highly uncomfortable Fuyu and sensei looking on. Natsuki, for all that he did his best to appear as bubble-headed as the hair color suggested, did not wear his heart on his sleeve for just anyone.
"Good to see you, too," I said, softly, to avoid sounding choked up. Natsuki's grip around my shoulders loosened, and then I found myself subjected to a double-handed cheek pinch.
"Don't do that to me ever again!" he snuffled, releasing me with an audible slap. "As if the tenth wasn't already bad enough-!"
"I'll try my best," I said, cooling my now-warm cheeks with my hands. I probably deserved that. "I didn't mean to, you know."
"That's the trouble, you never do," said Natsuki, with a sniff. "Unbelievable! None of the rest of us were even hurt." And it was true, I'd found out - among his other very last actions, Namikaze Minato had trapped every ninja under the age of 17 behind a barrier while he fought the Kyuubi, irrespective of rank.
Clown that I am, I'd managed to die anyway just from pure traumatic corrosive chakra exposure, before the barrier even went up. At a distance of like five miles.
I did not quite meet Natsuki's eyes, green-gold with those peculiar Yamanaka pupils, instead resting my gaze on his golden-tan nose, and the light dusting of freckles there. What does it say about me that I'm more afraid of eye contact with my Yamanaka teammate than my active-Sharingan Uchiha teammate? I'm sure my psych eval will tell me.
"I'm amazed you all got to come see me together," I said. "Reconstruction has to have everyone hopping."
"Yamanaka-san insisted," said my sensei, reminding me that he was in the room. Not that I could forget, readily. Hyuuga Aki was very tall, even for a Hyuuga, a bloodline which ran very tall indeed. An imposing man, built like a brick outhouse, a stern and impassive face as befitted a proper member of the branch house, silky blue-black hair all the way down to his waist, bound back loosely. He did not smile at me, as he never did, but I saw the veins that indicated an active Byakugan, and though it was difficult at the best of times to tell which direction he was looking, I knew it was focused on me and my fucked-up chakra system.
"I know what it's like when Natsuki insists," I said with a tiny grin, and the veins at the corners of my sensei's eyes desisted.
"Fuyu told us about your house," said Natsuki, biting his knuckles. "About- everything, actually."
"Have you a place to stay?" asked Aki-sensei. I shrugged, my mouth thinning.
"Nothing lined up," I said. "This is your chance to offer."
"You're always welcome in the Uchiha compound," said Fuyu, quietly. "Auntie won't mind, either."
"Of course you can stay with me!" said Natsuki, almost overlapping him. "Don't worry about a thing."
"I will secure permission if you wish to stay with me, at my home," said Aki-sensei, and boy did that make my pulse spike. My teammates graciously ignored the ping of not quite killing intent that overcame me when the Hyuuga's inner workings cast its long, long shadow. A grown-ass man and jounin, having to ask permission from his masters to allow his newly-homeless student to sleep on his couch.
The Hyuuga elders were going to be the first ones up against the wall when revolution came, even if I had to make it happen all by myself.
"I am blessed," I said, with my most saintly smile. "From no home to three offers, cold. Perhaps I'll take all of you up at different times, so I don't wear out any one welcome."
"Good! I'll draw up a timetable," said Natsuki, with a smile to match my wattage (and every bit as sincere). "So you don't slither out on anyone, though I don't know why you would!"
"Why does Haru-kun ever do anything," muttered Fuyu, distracted by the open window. Contemplating the big mysteries, what.
"I'll be discharged in the next couple of days," I said, my smile turning genuine and fond. "Scope out what restaurants are back up and running, we'll all go out together." A celebration seemed in order. Team Four had come out more or less unbroken, yet again.
An achievement that felt more brittle the longer it lasted.
We went back and forth for another half an hour, the four of us, even Aki-sensei. Before the nurse shooed them out Fuyu set my headband, polished to a like-new shine and riveted to a fresh Konoha-blue cloth, on the bedside table. Natsuki set a square travel case about the size of a hatbox next to it, with a wink that Aki-sensei studiously ignored. Aki himself slid an ugly carpetbag under my bed- I recognized it as one of my bugout bags.
I had to take a moment to compose myself, once they were gone. Gods, it was good to have friends.
Wearing a grin that wouldn't go away, I unlatched the box Natsuki had left me, revealing my very own portable gramophone. It was hand-crank and collapsable, suitable for taking on a picnic- or a mission. A small collection of records fit into a pocket on the lid- I had a greater collection, but ahh… who knows how much was left of that. Natsuki had been borrowing the box itself when my house was destroyed, which was a tremendous windfall. I was very happy for it to have survived.
I selected a vinyl, a grandiose orchestral piece suitable for grandstands and sitting alone in the dark of your empty mansion watching black and white silent films. Wound up the gramophone, and set the needle.
Pure sound, loud and immediate and almost physical. There was just something about the quality of music from these old gramophones- undiluted soundwaves, straight from the disc to the air. There was no volume control whatsoever; any semblance was achieved by stuffing a scarf in the speaker. I leaned back, and let myself simply be awash in it.
It was not long at all before the curtain between myself and my roommate was peeled back, slowly and deliberately, offering me a clear view of Hatake, his expression a complete null, the hot pink of complimentary hospital earplugs showing through his hair. He said something, that between the hospital mask and the music, I did not quite catch. The content was nonetheless obvious.
"I know, isn't it wonderful?" I said, pitching my voice higher to be heard over the sound without straining myself. His expression, if anything, got flatter.
"Makes it bloody hard to think doesn't it?" I went on, cheerful and bright. If I hadn't been looking for it, I might not have spotted it- but his lone visible eye widened, just ever so, and his grip on the bed curtain loosened. He didn't pull the curtain to again, and I leaned back against my pillows to enjoy the music once more.
Lots of things are better with company. Even things I preferred to enjoy alone.
I was discharged the following afternoon, under the condition that I made all of my follow-up visits, and especially the psychological evaluation. Yes, Suzume-senpai, it really was an accident, I promise. Yes, Suzume-senpai, I really am that stupid, I don't know why anybody ever thinks otherwise.
I was returned to my room to finish up discharge paperwork, and change, and collect my things. My roommate was missing. Hm.
A short-lived mystery, as it turned out. I could still see him out the window, back in his flak jacket and blues, leaning ever so casually against a tree with his back towards the hospital. He'd gotten, hm, maybe fifty yards?
It was almost endearing. I took my time changing clothes, and on my way out, collected a second set of discharge paperwork. Rather than go out the window (no using chakra! might actually die!) I took the long way around. Hatake was still where I'd spotted him, fifteen minutes earlier. I strolled up next to him at a leisurely pace, using my gramophone box as a portable desk, still finishing up my paperwork. He did not acknowledge my approach, right up to the point where I started talking.
"I've got some of your basics filled out, but you'll still have to sign and initial everything," I said, pitching right into it, shuffling the paperwork on my makeshift desk. "I'd do that, too, but I don't like forging signatures without a sample. It's not that I can't, I would just prefer not to, and you are right here, after all."
He stared at me like a dead fish. I nudged his shoulder with my shoulder, and frowned. He was taller than me, something that had been lost in the hospital bed. I rather didn't like this discovery, but unfortunately, quite a lot of people are taller than me.
"Anyway, we're not required to report to head office until after the memorial service, which is Sunday… which gives us the rest of today, and tomorrow, to square things away. Shan't be any trouble at all, I'll just send the paperwork back when we're done by hawk or summons… Natsuki-chan lets me borrow his, I don't have a contract of my own. Where were you headed, then? I have something of an open schedule-"
"Stop," he said, and I turned sharply to look at him, to let him know he had my attention. Had it the whole time, actually. "...just. Stop."
"Okay," I said, and leaned against the tree with my back to his, to continue filling out paperwork. I felt him tense up all over, and stay that way.
"Why-" he started, before he quite had what he was going to ask. "Why are you like this," he settled on. I snorted.
"Opening with the classics, I see," I said. "...There's a longer answer, but I won't trouble you with it. Short version: I'm freshly unemployed and very, very easily bored."
He made a small noise of frustration. "So I'm… a new hobby? ...Don't you have friends?"
"Gobs," I said, my eyebrows jumping, not that he could see. "Family, too, though I'm aiming for less of that by the end of today. I don't see how that's relevant. I'm here, now." I was here, and he needed help that he wouldn't ask for, that I could provide. What else was I supposed to do?
I'm a bit of a socialist at heart, you know.
(Pale morning light filtering through the gaps in a straw-thatched roof, dust motes dancing suspended in air. A dark man with yards of silken black hair, stretched out on the bed I kept for overnight patients. Bandaged from the waist down, and half the rest of his body. Staring at me, out of golden eyes, like a man at sea. Lost. Befuddled.
(have I seen that look on Fuyu, maybe? once or twice, from sensei, I'm sure)
someone else's blood up to my elbows. a familiar pain in my chest. the sure knowledge that it had all been worth it, that I was still riding the tail ends of it, the thrill of saving a man's life with my own two hands, a headier high than any dragon I'd ever chased-
and he had the temerity to ask why?
if I wanted to chase the feeling of being god all the way to my dying breath just let me)
He moved away from the tree, while I was dealing with the intense flash of past life memories that had called up, walking off like he hadn't just been non-optionally resting. I was relatively quick to follow. Had to trot a bit, to catch him on those stupid long legs of his.
"I'm not some pity project," he snapped, when I drew level.
"Well, that's good," I said, the very beginnings of annoyed. "Considering I'm not looking for one. If you want to assign unflattering ulterior motives to me, that's fine, but it doesn't change the part where I need you to sign and initial here, if you don't want me hunting up a handwriting sample." There was a deep crease between his eyebrows, when he looked down at me, the crinkle around his lone visible eye one of malice.
"I'll do it, too," I said, eyeballing him. "You have no idea the kinds of things you can find yourself anonymously signed up for in this village."
He took the box from me, and the pen, and tried to ignore the part where he had to lean rather heavily on me to keep walking. Neat little scribbles, where I'd x'd, and he handed me back the paperwork.
"Have to change my handwriting, then," he said, sounding deliberately more bored than angry.
"Good," I said, with a smile that had sharp edges. "Adapt, and so shall I also."
I went back to quietly filling out the remainder, the two of us leaning against one another to maintain upright and forward motion, Hatake trying not to need it and radiating frustration that he truly actually did. ...Neither of us truly should have been out of the hospital yet, but. Such was the state of things.
The village was… depressing to be out in. Nobody was out of uniform, no civilians were on the streets. The district around the hospital had not quite been reached, but there were still piles of rubble and rocks, the skyline a distant view of half-destroyed buildings. We had to alter our route twice, to avoid great chasms rent through the streets. I deduced our destination after the second course correction.
"...Memorial stone?" I said, my paperwork now closed up in my gramophone case, tucked under the same arm that held my carpetbag. I took that silence as confirmation. "...It might be busy."
"...Be busier after the new engravings," he said, very quietly. "Sunday, you said."
"Right. Damn…" I swore, a hand on my chin. "...Can't be helped."
But there was no one there when we reached it- everyone able-bodied still working disaster recovery, no doubt. Hatake was already far away, by the time I looked up at the stone. At all those names. Soon to be yet more names.
If I'd stayed dead, mine likely wouldn't have been added. I had not been killed in action. Dad, though…
I couldn't hang around all day. I had other things to do, even if my schedule was rather loose at the moment. I did not have time to stand in front of a giant rock, dissociating. Even if that was what some people did for fun.
"Don't stay out here all day," I said, softly, entirely expecting to be ignored. "I've got to go… stir some pots. No pot left unstirred."
No response. At least I had the excuse of the things I was flashing back to being entirely new material. I stepped away from him, and he remained standing, with only a little wobble.
...I really did hate to leave, but the world spins on.
Thank you to everyone who's read, followed, favorited, and left reviews! yes even the person that went to the effort to actually write 'this sucks' in my review box, you're right but fortunately that's irrelevant.
I have no idea what a reasonable chapter length is, I've been aiming between 3-5k words per? I could go longer?
p.s. i wasn't kidding when i said there'd be lots of OCs, please enjoy Team Four Seasons