Warnings: you know the drill when it comes to our dear Saku-chan.
Sakumo finds Sugi staring morosely at the outside of Murakami's darkened room, leaning her head against one of the pillars lining the open-air walkway. Half-shadowed from the silver moonlight, she looks drained of colour, faded like her fraying kimono. She had run off after Murakami right after the debacle at dinner. There was such a distraught look on her face that Sakumo felt compelled to check up on her after Rin had taken over his watch.
Now that he has found her, he feels at a loss as to what to say. He doesn't even know a thing about her, really. In the end, he settles for sitting down cross-legged along the edge of the veranda, facing the wide dome of stars that stretches above them. The familiar heavy grey rainclouds are already on the move, swallowing glittering stars in pairs and triplets with each inch crawled along the sky.
Misery loves company; not always out of schadenfreude but rather want of comfort.
When she finally speaks, all the stars in the sky have been hidden behind a veil of darkness. "I wish I could be a shinobi like you." She regards him with a wistful tinge to her smile. "Then I can actually do something for Murakami instead of standing around."
Even though being a shinobi isn't all that it's cracked up to be, Sakumo can't deny the truth in her words. He'd have gone crazy long ago if he had been a powerless civilian. It had been punishing, those first few months when Sakumo had nothing to distract himself from the his utter helplessness to comfort Kakashi.
"Will you be leaving with Murakami-san?"
Sugi hangs her head, the curtain of hair that hides her face a silken fall of black. "Even though I have no right to call myself such... I am her mother. Wherever she goes, I will be there with her too."
'Oh.' The fact that she looks so young - not more than a few years over twenty at Sakumo's estimate - had thrown him off. Now, he sees the familial resemblance. One day Kakashi will appear older than Sakumo too. It's a funny thought.
There's an unfamiliar pressure in his chest, building with an inexorable sort of force now that he realises Sugi might just be in the same situation as he. Perhaps it's his misery that craves company; freedom seems to be on the tip of his tongue even though she isn't Kakashi.
She can't exonerate him but his confession slips through his lips anyway. "I'm a parent, too."
Sugi looks up and stares. Sakumo isn't sure what's written on his face, doesn't know what he's searching for, but he recognises the undertow of desperation that's surging through him. He needs this.
Her expression blanks. "You must have died for your village—"
He shakes his head, unable to bear this misunderstanding. He is no martyr. "I'd failed a mission." After this long, the details don't matter. "And I killed myself out of shame. My son... he was only five, then. I've been following him around since."
His sentences come out jerky and without finesse but with every tumbling word, it is as if the mountain bearing down on him eases back a little. He had had no-one to confide in before — Rin has enough troubles for someone so young and the other Konoha ghosts who had died in sacrifice will not understand. 'You men are unexpectedly fragile,' Yoriko had once observed, the fondness in her voice softening her bemused words. Sakumo had protested vehemently then, but now, he can almost feel his bones cracking under the strain.
Sugi wraps her arms around herself, her gaze becoming downcast. At the sight, Sakumo wonders abruptly if he has been selfish. The thought is like a splash of cold water. Hadn't he meant to offer comfort when he had gone in search of her? And yet, he has now needlessly burdened her, an already burdened soul, with his own problems. He wavers, torn. Opening his mouth, he prepares to apologise (or to say something trite like "nevermind") and excuse himself before he makes more mistakes. The sound of her soft voice makes him bite back his words to listen instead.
"I was sixteen when I married a trader from Kusa. He had come to Ame to do business." She takes a shuddering breath, her eyes fluttering closed as she braces herself. Perhaps... Perhaps she needs to share this as much as he does. Sakumo feels his twisting insides unwind a little.
"When Murakami was six, my husband was killed and we were on the run with nothing but the clothes on our back. " Her mouth twists, full of anger at herself. "I was only twenty-two, just a stupid girl who became a widow and a single-mother too soon. I couldn't bear it. Couldn't even face the next day much less the years that stretched before me, so I ended it." The brevity of her narration veils the raw exposure of her heart.
She dashes at her eyes, pressing against them with the heels of her palms as her shoulder tremble. "I'm so proud of her. Having a mother like me... She made it through when I had despaired and given up." A low, strained chuckle escapes. "I'm so proud of her."
Sakumo doesn't need to say "I understand". Both of them know what the silence means and what unspoken things it is filled with. Neither of them have answers to the questions of guilt and forgiveness, but for once, neither of them feel quite so alone.
The quiet is a smothering blanket but the air tastes sweet, like relief.
"That boy — Kazuo..."
"Hmm, yes."
Sugi nods and lets her head thud back against the pillar. "Have you thought about what... what you'd say?"
It's a question that Sakumo has thought about often. "Sorry," he says after a pause. "There's not much other than that. I don't have a speech."
A soft snort makes him glance over. Behind lashes wet with tears, there is wry amusement in Sugi's eyes. "Yeah. I don't have one either."
Sakumo finds himself smiling despite everything. It's an emaciated skeleton of a smile, for sure, but one nonetheless.
A/N: The holidays are drawing to a close and I find myself staring bemusedly at my readings. You know what this means... Updates will be sporadic from now on!