Warning: Disturbing dialogue.

Chapter 12

Kyou panted. "Are we done for the day?" He was flushed, sweaty, and exhausted, his heart beating fast and steady.

His sensei hesitated, then gave a nod.

Kyou collapsed to the ground in relief. "I did it…"

"You're getting stronger," his sensei said. He crouched, calmly watching Kyou recover. "You've gotten much stronger in the past few months."

Kyou would never tell his sensei that, but it was because he was terrified of being beaten by his father. After the first time, when his father broke his arm, Kyou dreaded evenings and resolved to defend himself better. If he just got better at taijutsu, then his father wouldn't be able to push him around so much. Kyou refused to think about the fact that with magnetism release, his father could use his hematite sand. His father would never turn his kekkai genkai against his own son, would he?

Things like that just didn't happen. His father was angry sometimes, not crazy. And if he just lasted long enough, his father would run out of anger, and he wouldn't be hurt at the end.

Kyou panted against the barren ground, recovering his strength. "Sensei…do you think someday I'll be as strong as you?"

"If you keep working this hard? I guarantee it," his sensei said. He laid a gentle hand on Kyou's back. "You've all the advantages in the world. Your bloodline limit is powerful, and you have large chakra reserves. My only concern in the beginning was your body, and you have overcome that."

Kyou nodded. "Getting my mom to change my diet to include more red meat helped, Sensei. I appreciate your talk with her." In the beginning, when he'd been assigned a sensei to train him after school to help him keep up, he'd been fatigued all the time. His sensei suggested it was anemia. Kyou had been scared, but all it turned out to mean was that he had an iron deficiency and needed to make up for it in order to survive endurance training.

"No problem," his sensei said. "Wouldn't want a promising student to die."

Kyou smiled weakly. He wished he could tell his sensei that he had nightmares about his father killing him, sometimes. But he couldn't. That would be disloyal. And terrible of him, since he knew his father wouldn't really kill him. All fathers have tempers, don't they? I bet everyone's fathers get mad sometimes.

Still, he had to admit, he didn't want to go home.

He would much rather stay collapsed behind the school, at the training grounds. Training ground 3 was perfect for practicing taijutsu. It was a wide, flat expanse of hard ground, as perfect as a paved courtyard. The towering building of the ninja academy was on one side. Around them was the high wall separating the school from the street. The school was heavily protected from the wind, and from possible attack. It wouldn't do to leave one's children unprotected.

Kyou knew that here at least, people cared if he got hurt.

Here, he mattered.

Kyou picked himself up off the ground and found his center of balance.

His sensei straightened, watching him with calm stoicism and a hint of a smile.

Kyou bowed. "Thank you for the lesson, Basa-sensei."

The man allowed himself a small sign of affection. He rested his large, warm hand on Kyou's head. "Any time, Kyou-kun."

Kyou wished he could run away and join Basa's family. The Akagizume clan were all strong, protective people with a family calling to be teachers. Of course, they weren't really named Akagizume. They were called that because they had two large red marks on either side of their face, tattoos on their cheeks that looked a little like two claw marks. Thus 'Akagizume': 'Aka' for red, and 'kagizume' for claw. In spite of the rules about not using one's traditional clan name, most families chose a sort of clan nickname, in addition to saving the original history of their clan in a deeply cherished family scroll.

That was why Kyou's family was known as the Sabaku clan. Since the reign of Niidaime Kazekage, his family had distinguished themselves by their jutsu: a rare kekkai genkai that allowed them to command any material with even the slightest trace of magnetic properties in it. This ability extended to materials that responded to electrical currents well. Kyou had heard that this meant his kekkai genkai was a unique manipulation of earth release and lightning release. He wouldn't take advanced nature transformation release classes until his last year of school, though.

And to his father's shame, he was less than a natural at their kekkai genkai. All he could do was make a smoke-like curl of particles dance for thirty seconds. He couldn't even handle something that wasn't ferromagnetic yet. Ferromagnetic metals were the materials that reacted the most easily to their magnetism release. In other words, a child's training toy. And Kyou still couldn't manage to attack or defend, even with pure iron sand.

Kyou realized he'd stalled his sensei enough. He gave Basa a sad smile. "Good evening, Basa-sensei. I must return home now. Kaasan will be making dinner, and Otousama will be angry if I am late." Yes, focusing on his need to be on time motivated him, when thinking about going home didn't.

Basa bowed. "As you wish. I will see you in the morning, Kyou-kun."

"Yes," Kyou agreed. It was an implicit promise to stay alive until the morning. Not that his sensei knew that.

xXx

When he arrived home, Kyou felt a storm in the air. As the inheritor of the magnetism release, he sometimes felt weather changes. A sand storm was going to hit, sometime between now and tomorrow morning. He could feel the tension, the way the air danced.

He shook himself, glancing at the sky – clear for now, how deceptive that was – and pushed open his front door. "I'm home," Kyou called, as per tradition. He slipped off his sandals and beat out his light gray yukata with his hands, trying to get rid of any excess sand and grit. A few puffs came off, courtesy of lying down on the training ground.

When he walked into the kitchen, Kyou jerked to a halt. A nasty surprise had waited for him: his mother was not home, but his father was. A reversal. No time to worry about what his father would say at dinner, then.

His father wasn't a tall man, exactly, but he was there. He had a presence like a magnet. His energy crackled. Not all magnetism release users felt the same way as his Otousama did. He had defined cheekbones and a hard jaw, a fierce hawk nose and dark, dark eyes. His hair was short and salt and pepper, combed back neatly. His mustache was jet black, like his hair had once been. He wore plain clothes; currently the whites and sand colors of standard issue jonin uniform, without the flak jacket.

"Otousama," Kyou said. "Good evening."

His father nodded. "Good evening, son."

Kyou took his place at the kitchen table and folded his hands, like he would if his mother were here. She always preferred to have him sitting down instead of roaming through the house while she made dinner. "How was your day, Otousama?" He gave his father a smile to mask his uneasiness. He wanted there to be some semblance of routine, at least. Unforeseen situations scared him.

"Kyou, will you come help me out in the bedroom?" his father asked.

Kyou got up from the table nervously. "Yes, Otousama…" He couldn't imagine how his father needed help in the bedroom. It didn't matter. The request for help was not a request.

He followed his father into his parents' bedroom.

"Where is Kaasan?" Kyou asked.

"She's not here right now," his father said vaguely.

Kyou knew that was going to be the only answer he got. If he pushed, his father would just become irritated with him. He was allowed to know what his father decided he ought to know. Everything else was off limits.

He looked around the room. Everything was as it should be. To the left of the door, there was a closet. In front of him, headboard pushed against the wall, was his parents' bed. It was neatly made, the covers tucked in. The floor was vacuumed and spotless. All the furniture was in place, the walls were clean, the window was covered with blinds as usual.

Kyou turned to his father. "What do you need my help with, Otousama?" Maybe it was something less obvious. Like looking under the bed for something. Kyou knew that neat beds did not always mean the space under the bed was as clean. He'd had to search under his bed for things all the time and found the floor dusty and littered with little trinkets, like loose change and forgotten toys. Not that he had many toys, but he did have simple ones, like balls.

"Your mother stopped letting me put it on," his father said. Or, that's what Kyou thought his father had said.

Kyou stared at his father for a moment, then glanced away, his lips silently moving. His father had used the word 'hameru'. That meant to put something in, or put something on, like a glove. Sometimes it meant to put someone in a spot, like categorizing them. And sometimes, it also meant to set someone up, like for an ambush. In school, the teachers had used the word 'hameru' a lot for that; talking about how to get an opponent where you wanted them.

He didn't think his father could mean that his mother stopped letting him ambush her. That didn't make sense.

There was no help for it; he would have to ask a question, even though questions were dangerous.

"Mother stopped letting you wear something?" Kyou asked timidly.

His father gave him a look. "No, you stupid boy."

Kyou inwardly cringed at the criticism. "I don't understand."

"Haven't you ever heard of fucking?" his father demanded.

Kyou froze. He felt his whole body get hot. His ears burned, and his pulse pounded. "That's a bad word," he whispered, shocked.

"No shit." His father looked at him with disgust. "Okay, genius, did you get it this time or not?"

"No," Kyou whispered. His mind had gone blank. He couldn't understand what was going on. Why had his father told him to help in the bedroom? What was he supposed to do?

"Oh, for god's sake." His father grabbed his arm and threw him onto the bed. "Take your clothes off."

"What?" Kyou whispered, terrified. He cringed, curling into a ball. "Why?"

"Because I'm going to fuck you senseless before your mother gets back from buying groceries," his father said matter-of-factly. It was as if…they'd had this conversation before, or as if it was something his father ought to say, or…

Kyou realized he was shaking, and very close to wetting himself. "Seven-year-olds don't know how to fuck." He couldn't raise his voice above a whisper, and he knew better, he knew better than to argue, but this was an impossibility. He wanted to throw up. He knew 'fucking' was an adult thing people did, but he didn't know how, or why. Only that there were vulgar jokes about it.

"You don't need to know how to do anything." His father's eyes were cold. "I'm the one who's doing the work. You just do what you were born doing."

Kyou couldn't move, couldn't speak. Couldn't feel. Even his lips were numb.

xXx

"…and that was the first time," Yondaime finished. He looked remarkably calm for someone who'd just recounted a story like that.

Kankuro could hardly believe his father could sit here in his lap and tell him that, without a single tear. But this is what abused people look like. When they recount, they go to a different place in their heads, and…wait until it's safe to come out again. Kankuro had read about this a lot. Purposeful detachment. What his father displayed was a version of the stoicism they were all taught in school. 'Take your mind away, to a calm place. Allow yourself to follow your orders completely and thoroughly.' That was almost verbatim a lesson Kankuro had learned at the Academy.

"I wanted my mother to return home from the grocery shopping, but she never did," Yondaime said. "By the time she returned, my father was done, and had scrubbed me clean in a hot shower." He raised an eyebrow, frowning to himself. "I threw up all over the bed, though. He had to explain that away as me being sick. Mother never asked what I was doing in their room. I always wondered if she knew. I wasn't allowed in their bedroom normally."

The first time? Those words pounded in Kankuro's skull. He felt like throwing up, himself. "Dad?" Kankuro asked timidly.

"Yes?" His father looked at him calmly and then reached up, gently stroking Kankuro's cheek.

"How…How many times?" Kankuro wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he would always wonder if he didn't just ask.

"I'm not sure," Yondaime admitted. "It all kind of blurs together. I know that it happened throughout the years. Father would ask Mother to do grocery shopping after he got home from work, and I would be left alone with him, and it would happen again." His eyes glimmered with a combination of fear and unshed tears. The numb stoicism cracked and fell away, leaving him obviously hurting.

Kankuro held his father, trying to figure out what to say. "After Mom…did it stop?"

"Only because Karura made sure my schedule and my father's never overlapped," Yondaime said. "Her parents helped a lot with that, inviting me over for family dinners or to play games. Yashamaru pitched in, too, finding extra things for me to do so I was never alone."

"Why didn't you just…confront him?" Kankuro asked.

"Karura wanted to, but I told her…" Yondaime took a deep breath. "A long time ago my father threatened to kill my mother if I ever told anyone, and I…I knew that…if I made a move, to secure Mother's safety, that…he would know what I was trying to do, and…" He started shaking.

"I understand," Kankuro said immediately, stopping him. Kankuro hugged his father tightly. You weren't capable of standing up to him. You just weren't. Even in your own head.

Yondaime laid his head against Kankuro's chest, lying still but not relaxed. Kankuro could feel how tense his father was.

"Tousan," Kankuro whispered. He stroked his father's back and kissed the top of his father's head, though it felt strange to do that to a grown man. "I love you. We're going to be okay."

His father relaxed, and let out a shuddering sigh. "I suppose so. I suppose…we're okay since…he's gone…" He squeezed Kankuro and looked up, at his son's face. "I love you, too. So you still love me, even after…"

"It's a lie," Kankuro said. "It's a lie that anyone could ever make you less desirable by hurting you."

Yondaime closed his eyes and nodded. A single tear welled up and ran down his cheek slowly. "That's what your mother said. A long time ago."

"It's true," Kankuro declared. Then he paused, horrified. "What about after Mom died?"

Yondaime let out a humorless laugh. "After your mother died…Yashamaru and their parents kept up the good fight, keeping me as safe as possible…Yashamaru even took Gaara so I wouldn't be isolated alone in the house with a baby to take care of. He took care of Gaara. And he never once asked for any compensation, never made a single complaint…he was wonderful."

"But then…Yashamaru died, and Gaara came to live with us," Kankuro said quietly.

Yondaime nodded. "That's right."

"And you were more vulnerable," Kankuro said.

"Right again," his father said.

"So your father started coming around," Kankuro said.

"He scented blood," Yondaime said bitterly. "The blood was in the water as soon as Karura died, but he was very careful to appear the solicitous father, the grieving father-in-law. He stopped by several times when I was at her parents' house to try to talk to me, but they wouldn't let him have me. They wouldn't let him speak to me alone. Smart people. Your maternal grandparents were smart, good people."

"I know," Kankuro said, nodding. He'd loved his mother's parents. They had always been kind and understanding. And his maternal grandfather had been a puppet master. Between him and Chiyo, Kankuro had learned a lot. Enough to graduate in the top of his class, ahead of the other puppet masters.

Yondaime hugged Kankuro. "I was aware that I was in danger, technically, but I thought…well…that he would move on. I thought if I stayed out of his house, out of my parents' way…"

"Yeah," Kankuro said softly. "That's what I would have thought, too."

"But he didn't," Yondaime said. "He came back. Asking if he could help, asking how my financial situation was. When he…when he came into my office, at work, I knew it was over. He was done waiting. He…" Yondaime swallowed. "I always suspected he engineered the idea of testing Gaara."

"Testing Gaara," Kankuro said blankly. "You mentioned something about that before. Yashamaru died giving Gaara a test?"

Yondaime shuddered.

Kankuro rocked him gently back and forth, rubbing his back. "It's okay. I don't hate you. I would never stop loving you, no matter what you told me."

His father took a deep breath. Tears shone in his eyes. "I ordered…Yashamaru to tell Gaara…tell Gaara…his mother was gone. That Karura was not in the sand, like we had been telling him. That…that…that was just a lie, and we told him that because we felt sorry for him, but that he had to be an adult now, he had to accept that there was no mother in his sand. That 'Mother' was gone." Yondaime looked sick to his stomach.

"Wait, what?" Kankuro was confused. "How was this a test?" Not to mention…you were telling him that Mom lived in his sand? That's kind of messed up. He set that aside for now.

Yondaime took a deep breath. He was deathly pale. "The theory was…was that Gaara could be cleared as a security risk if he…if he accepted reality, the reality that the rest of us lived in, that his mother was gone, and…he had to learn to live for himself instead of trying constantly to communicate with his mother. Or…or get her attention, or seek her approval to the exclusion of bonding with others. Because she was gone."

Kankuro nodded slowly. "That kind of makes sense…"

"Except that Gaara was hated by the villagers, and his only coping mechanism was believing in a mother's love," Yondaime said sharply. "An active, aware, loving mother constantly with him. We took that away from him, and he snapped. He killed Yashamaru – presumably for lying to him about Karura being in his sand – and he hates me. For the same reason. He hates that I would lie. And he'll never trust me again."

Kankuro knew now. He understood why his father clung to that guilt so hard. But he couldn't do anything about that. He couldn't make his father let go. All he could do was redirect. "You were telling me about your father." He stroked his father's back gently.

Yondaime stared at Kankuro for a moment, blankly. Then he shook his head, and some of the hunted, desperate shame faded from his eyes. "I…ah…" He swallowed. "Received a threat. From my father. About how ill my mother was. How…much attention and care she needed. And. He asked me if I wouldn't stop by and help her. I said no. I didn't have time. He…called me names. Yelled at me. But he didn't…strike me. He just left my office. And he…disappeared, for a few months. Off my radar."

"And then?" Kankuro prompted gently.

"He showed up at the house," Yondaime said. His voice was husky, as if he were holding back unshed tears. "Our house. I…told him to go away, he…came in. Asked about you. Temari. Gaara. I told him you three would never know him. That was the way Karura wanted it. He…struck me, and he said…if I wanted it to stay that way, I'd…" He shook his head, pressing his lips together.

Kankuro stroked his father's cheek. "So he did hurt you."

Yondaime stared across the room, at the wall. He didn't answer.

Kankuro waited.

"I don't know why he didn't…leave," Yondaime said. "Pedophiles, they…They're not like that. They don't follow…a person into adulthood. They don't…keep hurting the same child, over and over, even though he's a grown man. They don't. They don't do that. They don't –" His hands were clenched tightly, balled up and resting against his stomach.

Kankuro saw his father's knuckles turn white and hurriedly took his father's hands, gently prying his father's fingers apart, uncurling them.

His father gave him a startled look, then looked down at their joined hands. Yondaime was silent for a while. His shoulders slumped, and he rested against Kankuro.

Kankuro stroked his father's hands.

"He never left," Yondaime whispered. "He died last year. That was the first time. The first time he ever left." He closed his eyes and rested his head against Kankuro's shoulder.

Kankuro knew his father had to be exhausted; after all, it was after both their bedtimes, and his father had told Mafumi that he wasn't sleeping restfully. "Dad…do you want to go to sleep now?"

His father made a small sound. It almost sounded like a chuckle. "How can I ever sleep now? How can I ever sleep again? The nightmares…"

"You can go to sleep now because you are safe," Kankuro said. "I am here, and he isn't. And he can't come back. He's dead."

"He's not dead, in my head." His father spoke in a low voice, tired and ashamed.

Kankuro hugged his father tightly. "We have to talk to Yuna-san and Mafumi-san about medication. You can't live like this. You have to have a good night's sleep. You have to be able to rest. No more putting yourself through months of agony, Tousan. You're going to get help."

Instead of arguing, his father just nodded and clung to him.