Chapter 16

The four o'clock appointment on Monday came. Kankuro noticed when he went back to the office to pick his father up that his father looked less than thrilled about it. Well, that makes two of us. Kankuro was less than happy also. He knew it would be difficult. His father had to talk about his grandfather, and they had to own up and explain about their relationship, and Yuna had to listen and tell them what to do next. How to get help for his father's problems. Because Kankuro was not going to walk out of that therapy office without a solution. He needed a solution to help fix his father.

They walked over to the therapy office silently, taking their seats next to each other in the waiting room until Yuna could come get them.

She was as solicitous as last time, her chakra light and airy. Kankuro had no doubt it was a conscious tactic to set her patients at ease. It worked. Kankuro's chest felt less tight and choked up. His father was silent, but calm.

Once they got settled, Kankuro and Yondaime in their side by side chairs, and Yuna across from them in hers, she smiled, folded her hands in her lap, and waited for them to speak.

"My father…" Yondaime trailed off.

Yuna nodded encouragingly.

"My father…" Yondaime's voice dropped to a whisper. "Hurt me. And that's why I didn't believe Kankuro." He bowed his head. "But I believe him now. I believe my son." He raised his head and looked at Yuna.

Kankuro swallowed and squeezed his father's arm. "I love him, very much, and I am going to take care of him now. Our differences…the ones we came to you for in the first place…are resolved. But we'd still like your help."

"Yes, of course." Yuna looked at Yondaime sympathetically. "In what way would you like my assistance?"

"My dad…" Kankuro hesitated. He didn't know how to sum it up for a moment. "…needs a lot of help," he finished.

Yondaime sighed.

"What kind of help?" Yuna asked gently. She looked from Kankuro to Yondaime. "And what kind of hurt? I need to know details if I am to help you. Or at least feelings. Feelings are a great indicator of what is going on, or has gone on in the past."

"I remembered," Yondaime said unsteadily, "after I got married to Karura." He looked away, then glanced at Yuna, as if wary to stop watching her reactions. "When I started dating her, I knew I felt…free. Ecstatic. Alive, at last. And then…once we were engaged…terrified. Terrified that someone would take her away." He hesitated, and then visibly forced out, "My father. I thought my father would take her away."

"Your father was jealous?" Yuna asked. "Or was it something else?"

"Something…else," Yondaime said. He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. "Dark. Very dark." He shook his head. "Something so dark inside me. This knowledge. I wanted – I wanted to spare my son this darkness, spare…spare myself the knowing, I –"

Kankuro shot up and hugged his father fiercely. "It's okay. We're going to get you help. It's okay. You can do it. He's dead now. You're okay."

His father took a deep breath and relaxed, limply accepting Kankuro's embrace. "For a long time, I never accepted that anyone could be as perfect as Karura," he said slowly. "As loving. As kind. As giving. As understanding."

Kankuro felt his father trembling. He silently got his father to stand up. Then he sat down, pulling his father down onto his lap. It was a little awkward, but not much. It was worth it to be able to hold his father properly.

He looked at the therapist defiantly, but Yuna didn't say anything. Her gaze was fixed on Yondaime, and she looked concerned.

Kankuro gauged her reactions for a moment longer, then turned his attention to his father. He tightened his arms around his father and kissed his father's cheek.

Yondaime wrapped his arms around Kankuro's shoulders loosely and rested his head against Kankuro's. "I have a son," Yondaime whispered, "who is wonderful and kind."

"And loving," Kankuro said firmly. "Because it is love. Real love. Adult love. And I don't care how it came about. I like it, and I'm not going to change. I'm growing up to be exactly who I want to be."

"I respect that," Yuna said.

Kankuro nodded. "Good."

"And I understand Yondaime's position," Yuna said. "The loss of a loved one very dear to us is traumatic. Dramatically life-altering. You were right to believe no one could be Karura. The error is that you defined Karura as the only person who could love you."

Yondaime nodded. "I know that now."

Kankuro squeezed him. "We're going to be very happy together."

"I believe that," Yuna said gently. "You have every right to be happy, and with proper support you will achieve long-lasting happiness. Wherever there is love and respect, happiness can be found."

Yondaime blushed slightly and nodded. "I agree. This is the road to recovery for me…" He took a deep breath and looked around the room. "This place, and these people…will be good for me."

Now he just has to get up the courage to talk about his father, Kankuro realized. He's stuck.

"But you're scared of what lies ahead?" Yuna suggested.

Yondaime nodded again. "Oh, yes. Very." He was matter of fact about it.

"What scares you?" Yuna asked.

"I think that I have more terrible things to remember," Yondaime said.

"Hmm. Mm-hmm…" Yuna nodded slowly. "And this would mean?"

Yondaime hesitated, looking confused. "Well. Well, it would mean…" He looked from her to Kankuro. "I would be alone."

"Why?" Yuna's tone was patient.

"Because no one could bear this pain," Yondaime said.

"Your assumption is that this pain is unbearable, and no one else would be willing to bear it with you," Yuna said, gesturing with her pen.

"Yes," Yondaime said.

Kankuro hugged him tightly. "That's not true. I could never leave you. Especially not leave you to face your pain alone. I love you too much. People who love each other stick together."

"The pain is not unbearable if we approach the topic slowly," Yuna said. "There is the belief that ripping off a bandage quickly is the best way to go; however, the truth is that by carefully treating and soaking the bandage, the adhesive will dissolve and the bandage will come off painlessly. The key is to take more time, Yondaime-sama, not less. We are not going to rip off your bandages. That values speed over comfort. Your comfort is the top priority in this process, since you have endured so much pain already. I don't doubt that another painful experience would bring you to your knees in this state. You need much love and care. We are not going to hurt you in order to help you. That is flawed reasoning."

Kankuro looked to his father.

His father looked relieved. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"We must go at your own pace," Yuna said. "The pace that is comfortable with you."

Kankuro felt his father relax in his arms. He squeezed his father gently. "Yeah. This is all about you. Don't be concerned about us. We're just here to help you." He kissed his father's temple, and ran his fingers through his father's hair, brushing it back from his father's forehead. He was relieved that he could show his feelings for his father openly here, without judgment, and without the fear that Yuna was going to take his father away. His father needed him.

"Where would you like to start?" Yuna asked gently.

"My father was a bad man," Yondaime said. "An objectively bad man. Anyone who knew him could tell you that."

Yuna nodded. "Okay…what did he do that was bad? Tell me a story."

Yondaime took a deep breath. "He would always be complaining. Every day when he came home from work, he'd complain. He'd complain about how stupid people were, and how disrespectful people were, and how they ignored him and how he knew better, and he'd get so angry he'd yell at us. He never asked how we had been, he never cared how our days had gone. He just wanted to come back to the kitchen and yell."

"Who is 'we'?" Yuna asked gently.

"Me and my mother," Yondaime said. He shook his head slightly and corrected himself. "My mother and I. That was 'we'. We were always we. Our father's audience. Father's captive audience."

Kankuro noted the confusion, and didn't say anything about it. He wondered what it meant.

"Mother hated him," Yondaime said. "She was always saying, 'I hate that man. If there were any way we could leave, I would.'"

"That instilled in you a sense of hopelessness," Yuna said. "Because she told you that no matter what pain you were in, you couldn't leave."

"Yes," Yondaime said. He thought for a moment. "I stopped telling her he hurt me. She didn't care anyway. She'd just tell me we had to be brave and not say anything."

"Why couldn't you say anything?" Yuna asked gently.

"He'd kill her," Yondaime said.

"I see," Yuna murmured. "So there was a threat against the life of the parent that you did love."

"Love?" Yondaime furrowed his brow, as if puzzled.

"How did you feel about your mother?" Yuna asked.

"I didn't want her to die," Yondaime said.

"Ah." Yuna nodded, and said gently, "I'm sorry for making assumptions. I'll let you tell the story, Yondaime."

"She took care of me," Yondaime said.

"How did she take care of you?"

"She cooked all the meals and did all the laundry and did all the things that made the household run," Yondaime said. "Father just earned the money. And he didn't earn enough. He was always complaining about how he didn't earn enough and questioning Mother's expenses, even when it was just soap."

"Your parents would speak of financial things in front of you?" Yuna asked.

Yondaime nodded. "Hai."

"Starting at what age?"

Yondaime looked deeply saddened. "An argument when I was three was the first one I could remember. Mother wanted to get me a birthday cake. Father said, 'Three years olds don't need birthday cake! Who's going to eat it? Us? He doesn't have any friends. We'll be stuck eating cake for a week!'"

Kankuro's mind went blank, he was so stunned. He hugged his father and started automatically rubbing his father's back. "They argued about your birthday?"

"Oh, hai," Yondaime said. "All the time. Every year." He looked from Kankuro to Yuna. "Mother liked celebrations, you see. We didn't get enough nice things. A birthday was an excuse to show off. Be festive, buy special foods…Father didn't like her. He didn't like birthdays. He said some families didn't even celebrate birthdays. Birthday celebrations are a new thing, he said. Too fancy. Too expensive. Too pointless. After all, no one's that glad to have someone here in the first place. 'Celebrate Kyou's birth like some god? I don't think so.'"

"His real name is Kyou," Kankuro told Yuna quietly. "Don't ask what it means. It's horrible."

Yuna nodded. She looked at the two of them sympathetically. "So you were not cherished in this household."

Yondaime let out a laugh. "Not at all." He looked at her with amusement. "In fact, my most important role was being beaten up whenever my father felt like venting some of his frustration. I had to volunteer for it. Otherwise, I was ungrateful and callous."

"Your father was the ungrateful, callous one," Yuna pointed out.

Yondaime smiled. "I know. Oh, I know. I've known for years. He's the one he talks about when he talks about everyone else. It's a fairly regular occurrence. Berating my mother for her temper. Calling me heartless. Saying that so-and-so is touchy. Sometimes he'd say that to my mother or me. 'You're so touchy. Stop snapping at me. All you ever care about is yourself'. He would hurt me that way, with words. Until I allowed him to beat me again. I always told myself I wouldn't speak up, but he would get so angry, put on this angry face, and I couldn't turn him down. I was always 'Yes, Otousama'-ing everything he'd do. He called me an agreeable child when he was in a good mood."

Kankuro was sickened. Tell her about the abuse, he wanted to whisper. Tell her about the sexual stuff.

But Yuna was right. Neither of them should push his father to talk before he was ready. Venting off all of this stuff needed to come first. Disclosure happened in steps; especially for traumatized children. He'd read traumatized children tested the waters for a long time to come, divulging things that happened in bits and pieces until they were sure nothing would get them in trouble.

"Did you like being an agreeable child?" Yuna asked.

Yondaime sighed. "Yes." Then he shifted uncomfortably against Kankuro and hid his head against Kankuro's shoulder. "No," he admitted, in a mumble.

"That's alright," Yuna said. "I think a child is not always supposed to be agreeable."

"They're not?"
"No," Yuna said. "Sometimes a child should say no."

Yondaime raised his head. "Like when?"

"Whenever someone wants you to hurt," Yuna said. "You should say 'no'."

"No," Yondaime said, as if pondering that word. He frowned, his brow furrowed.

Yuna nodded. "No. It's a simple word that means you've denied permission. You don't have to give permission to anyone who wants to hurt you."

"What if it's my father?" Yondaime asked.

"There is still 'no'," Yuna said.

Yondaime took this in for a moment and nodded, taking a deep breath. "'No'. Okay." He shifted. "I feel tired. Can we be over now?"

"Yes," Yuna said gently. "I think you've done quite enough. You're probably tired, aren't you? You need to go to bed and rest."

"Yes," Yondaime said. "I don't get enough rest. There are all of those nightmares. They get in the way whenever I try to rest. It's horrible."

"You could talk to your depression counselor about that," Yuna said. "I bet she would have a way to get more rest, Yondaime."

"I will." Yondaime looked to Kankuro. "Kankuro says I should. I should…" He sighed. "Take pills and stuff. To make me feel better."

"I think that is a possibility," Yuna said. "If you decide you want to talk about medication, we have a psychiatrist you can talk to. He is a very nice man."

"Can't we have a woman?" Yondaime asked timidly.

Yuna nodded. "Of course you can. The man is really nice, though." She smiled encouragingly.

Yondaime hesitated.

Yuna laughed. "No? Okay. It's okay. I don't want to make the decision for you. You should go to whoever makes you comfortable. I'll get you a nice woman psychiatrist if you want to have that talk. Okay?"

"Okay," Yondaime said. He nodded.

"You can go home now," Yuna said gently. "Let me walk you out to the waiting room." She rose from her chair.

Kankuro rose and helped his father get up as well. His father still clung to him. Kankuro didn't mind that at all. He rubbed his father's back. "Tousan, come home with me and have dinner."

His father nodded. "I will."

Yuna led them down the hall back to the waiting room.

Kankuro was concerned. His father led his hand all the way out of the therapy office. He only let go when they reached the stairs. That was unlike his father. Usually, his father wanted to maintain a semblance of dignity in front of other people. At this moment, it looked as though his father couldn't care less.

His father took his hand again when they pushed out of the front door and exited onto the street. The afternoon sun was momentarily blinding. A hot breeze stirred up, dry, stroking Kankuro's cheek like sandpaper. His father squeezed his hand.

Kankuro glanced down the street, letting his eyes adjust. When he could see, he looked back at his father. "Are you okay?"

His father looked at him silently. Kankuro saw confusion and vulnerability in his father's eyes.

Kankuro made sure no one was looking and gathered his father into his arms. "You're hurt."

His father took a deep breath and nodded.

Kankuro wished he knew how to teleport. That was a jutsu he hadn't learned; it was a jonin level jutsu. Instead, he picked up his father the only way he knew how – bridal style – and used body flicker, keeping out of sight by using the shadows. The Kazekage Complex wasn't that far away. He managed to sneak in through his father's window. Probably only by virtue of the fact that his father's bodyguards recognized them and didn't step in. If just anyone tried this stunt, they'd be dead before they could blink.

Kankuro let out a sigh of relief and helped his father stand up. He shut the window behind them and pulled the curtains. It was much cooler in here than it was outside. It was a typical Suna late afternoon: like the mouth of a dragon. Sweltering.

Yondaime looked around the bedroom in confusion.

Kankuro watched this but made no attempt to speak. He had no idea what was going on; only that since the end of the therapy session, he'd gotten a weird vibe off of his father. Like a chakra fluctuation or something. He didn't know what it was, but it freaked him out. And when he got freaked out, he got very quiet and calm and still. Call it coping mechanisms because of being around Shukaku.

Yondaime turned to Kankuro and rubbed the back of his head. "Kankuro…Why are we at home? How did we get here? I thought we were going to a therapy appointment."

Kankuro looked at him in disbelief. We just went there! We've been there for the past hour!

His father took in his expression. "Oh, don't tell me we missed it. Did we skip it? Really? What for? I thought we agreed this was important." Yondaime looked around again, started pacing, and walked himself in a circle. "I don't understand it. How did we end up here?" He ran his fingers through his hair. "Of all places…"

"We came home after the therapy appointment," Kankuro said slowly. He wasn't trying to be patronizing. Slow seemed to be his top speed. He was in so much shock he didn't think he could move.

"After?" His father stared at him.

"After." Kankuro nodded, slowly and carefully. "Are you okay?" His father's eyes didn't have the same look to them as at the therapy building. He realized his father's eyed had been bluer then. Now they were green. The light green they'd always been. Wait…What? Why would his eyes change color? Kankuro knew some people's eyes naturally changed color. His father was not one of them.

Yondaime blinked and tried to assess the question, disbelief and irritation warring with curiosity. "I…I think so. Why?"

"Because you weren't okay before," Kankuro said. "I took you home."

"Instead of go to therapy?" His father groaned. "Oh, Kankuro. I could take a little bit of discomfort. You need to make me go."

"No," Kankuro said. "We went to therapy. We've been – It's five o'clock. It's dinnertime. Temari and Gaara are probably downstairs waiting for us." He waited for his father's reaction.

Yondaime paled, and his eyes sharpened with unwilling comprehension. "Five o'clock? Really?" He turned away, glancing at the clock on his nightstand, and rubbed his lower lip. A sure sign that he was thinking hard. "I guess I must have…blacked it out."

He turned to face Kankuro pleadingly. "I black out sometimes under period of stress. I'm not like this all the time. I promise you: I've never done anything dangerous while under like that. I don't think I have, anyway. Mostly meetings and things like that. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but…who would want to know a thing like that about their own father? I guess I must have blocked out that appointment because…" He took a deep breath. "I didn't like it. I didn't really want to go, which is why it made sense to me that I might get you to take me home instead of going. I can be a baby sometimes when it comes to these difficult things. Please be patient with me." He crossed the space between them and took Kankuro's hands. "I will work hard for us." He squeezed Kankuro's hands gently.

"I don't…have any doubts about that," Kankuro said, trying to choose his words carefully. It was difficult when his mind was racing. "You – You black out often?"

"Not often," Yondaime said. "Just when I'm really distressed. I admit it might happen a little more often now that we're going to war. I can't cope with that."

Kankuro wished his father hadn't brought it up. He'd been trying his best to forget the impending date. The Chuunin Exam. God. We have to warn them. But warning the Leaf of their own invasion would be treason. They'd become traitors. But who's the traitor here? We have an international treaty with them. We're just trying to uphold the treaty… Kankuro brushed those thoughts away. They could think about that later.

For right now… Kankuro squeezed his father's hands and gave his father a soft smile. "I love you. And I believe in you. You don't have to be scared of anything anymore. I understand why you are. Your life's been really hard before now. But we'll make it better. And we can have each other." He drew his father into his arms and hugged his father, rocking him back and forth gently.

"Oh, Kankuro…" Yondaime let out a sigh and clung to Kankuro in return, letting himself be rocked. He rested his weight against his son. "I love you so much…I don't know what I would do without you. I don't…I don't know how I would cope. I'm bad at coping. I'm bad at these things. I'm so terribly, inordinately, weak, you see."

"I'm sorry," Kankuro said softly. He rubbed his father's back. "It'll be okay. You'll see. Everything will be fine. I'm here now."

And he vowed he would be for the rest of forever. It didn't matter what his father's issues were. He was here to stay. They were going to love each other and help each other.

They'd already begun. How hard could the rest of forever be?

Kankuro kissed his father, mouthing tenderly, and closed his eyes, waiting for his father to respond. His father's lips hesitantly moved with his. He kept going, until he'd pulled a soft moan from them both. He opened his eyes and smiled.

His father smiled back, faintly blushing.

Kankuro reached up and stroked his pink cheek. "I love you. Hey…we're gonna be alright."

"I believe you," Yondaime said. His voice was soft and husky.

Kankuro flushed, a thrill of arousal going through him at the tone of his father's voice. He couldn't help it. He supposed he was going to react that way to his father's voice forever. It wasn't such a bad thing. Especially now that they had an understanding. He took his father's hand and squeezed it. "Want dinner?"

"Mm-hmm." His father chuckled, and his eyes took on a mischievous gleam. "Want dessert?"

Kankuro laughed, surprised. "Is that innuendo?"

"I don't know, you tell me," his father teased.

Kankuro blushed, but he laughed again. "Either way, I'll accept. I love dessert." He kissed the tip of his father's nose, and pressed a gentle kiss to his father's lips before they headed downstairs.

He was relieved his father had recovered enough to banter.