Gentle-Fist Massage V: Life of Shinobi

Part 4: "Coming to Terms"

"You are very odd, Shikamaru," Sai commented, as he placed his piece carefully on the shougi board.

The Nara sighed, already knowing his next move but still taking his time in making it. It had been a couple weeks since he had been forced out of his bed. He was scheduled to return to work at the Academy in a few days and hopefully he would be rid of the constant annoyance that followed him everywhere.

In all reality, Sai wasn't that bad to live with. For the most part, he was quiet and tidy and usually stayed out of Shikamaru's way. The artist had brought over his paints and had set up a section in the living room for his talent, which kept him busy most of the day. The only thing that bothered the shadow wielder was the constant picking the other man did to him when he opened his mouth.

"How do you mean?" Shikamaru asked, cautiously taking the paler man's bait and finally making his move on the shougi board between them.

Sai didn't look at him, instead gazing intently on the game. "According to the books I've been reading," he answered slowly, seeming to choose his words carefully, "people who have lost someone close to them usually mourn the loss." He moved another piece.

The shadow wielder glared, even though the paler man couldn't see it. "I have been mourning, idiot! Don't those books tell you that everyone mourns differently?" He pushed his knight forward.

"Yes," the artist agreed, hand ghosting over the wooden pieces, contemplating his next move, "and they describe all the different ways people mourn. You, however, do not fit any of those descriptions." He carefully followed the movement of the other's knight with one of his own.

"Good," Shikamaru replied, eyeing the board warily, "that means you'll be leaving after this game." After a few moments, he moved a piece to back up his knight.

"No, it doesn't," Sai stated, eyes still focused on the game. "You aren't even depressed about this anymore, based on the books and your actions." Another piece was scooted across the wood.

The shadow wielder sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "All right, Sai," he said, giving in to the other's prodding. "What am I then? Over it?" He moved a guard over to protect the king's flank.

It was the artist's turn to sigh. "Nowhere near it, I'm afraid. You seem to be in a stage of denial, one step below depression and several beneath mourning." He pushed a small piece toward his goal on the other end of the board.

Shikamaru's glare intensified and he forgot about the game of shougi. "What do you mean 'denial?' I'm not in denial!"

Sai finally raised his dark eyes to look confidently at the man across from him. "Yes you are, Shikamaru," he replied, face stoic and calm. "I haven't been doing absolutely nothing since being forced to stay with you. My eyes don't miss much."

The Nara snorted, gaze leaving the paler man. "Then maybe you need glasses."

"If you're not in denial," the artist continued, deciding that perhaps it would be best to reason with the man, "then why do you not say his name? You haven't even said once that he's dead and you continue to wait for him, staring out the windows and keeping his things in order as if he will return home at any moment. It will not happen and you must accept that, Shikamaru."

The shadow wielder was silently fuming, trying to keep the unexplainable hurt at bay. Sai had hit the nail on the head, whether he consciously knew he was doing those things or not.

"You know," he went on, eyes not leaving the other's face and knowing his words were having an effect, "most people… cry when they learn of this kind of news. Granted, some rarely shed tears at all, but even just a few at the initial shock of it. From what I understand, you haven't cried at all, not even after seeing your loved one's cor—"

"That's enough!" Shikamaru shouted. His body was trembling at the weight from the words that damned artist had spewed. Of course he hadn't accepted it, and he never wanted to. He had tried on a few occasions, but each time he could feel that cold darkness begin to swirl around him and he'd immediately squashed the thought. He didn't want to be surrounded by that nothingness again, and if that meant waiting for someone who would never return, so be it.

"You know nothing!" the shadow wielder spat, turning dark angry eyes to the paler man. "You have no idea what it's like to lose someone you loved with your whole heart, to feel as if half of your soul has been taken from you! Would you accept that, Sai? To know that in losing the person who meant the most to you in this world you also lose a big piece of yourself."

Sai stared back, unmoved by the speech, but taking in every word and absorbing the meaning behind his tirade.

Shikamaru sighed and gazed out into the forest. The familiar feeling of loneliness was starting to spread within his soul, and he could no longer hold it back by the lie of his lover someday returning. "I… I can't say his name," he continued, fighting the lump growing in his throat. "I can't cry. It's… things like that, which…." The shadow wielder shook his head; biting his bottom lip a moment as tears slowly began stinging his eyes. "It would just finalize reality that…" He turned his watery gaze back to the artist, a few drops escaping his dark orbs as he whispered, "…Neji's dead."

He dropped his face into his hands, great sobs shaking his form as the truth finally settled around him. Neji was dead, gone forever from this world; he wouldn't see his lover ever again. The shadow wielder didn't know what he was going to do. It had already been decided within his mind and soul that he couldn't live without the Hyuga; that fact being established almost a year ago. How could he go on with life now? The path ahead looked to be a dark, cold, and lonely existence, one he really did not want to take. He was afraid to take it.

Suddenly Shikamaru was enveloped within a warm embrace, and he raised his head away from his hands to give Sai a curious look. The artist gave him a small smile that sent a small wave of comfort through the shadow wielder's heart. He decided to take what he could get and wrapped his arms around the paler man's torso, burying his face into the other's shoulder and continued to cry out several weeks of built up sadness within his soul.

Sai gently rocked him, running his hands in soothing motions along the Nara's back. His own heart clenched painfully as the memory of losing his brother came to mind. He wondered if maybe this is how he should have reacted. Releasing a small sigh, he held the sobbing man tighter, glad he was finally able to use the comforting actions he had learned several weeks ago.

It meant Shikamaru was making progress.