Chapter 2: Live and Let Learn

After nearly a week cooped up in the small hospital, Axel was going a bit stir crazy. Sure, Kichirou's visits helped alleviate the boredom—forcing him to shift gears from zero to goddamn-it-takes-so-much-effort-just-to-understand-you without much warning—but practicing an unfamiliar language is not… He couldn't say it was very fun at this point. It is interesting. It is a good challenge. The actual conversations were always entertaining, like talking with long-time friends.

But it is exhausting.

At least both of his regular visitors were finally pronouncing his name correctly (enough).

His own pronunciation of their names, however… it left quite a bit to be desired: it was as correct as his accent allowed. He was still practicing, though, since if they were going to put in the effort to learn his name he sure as hell was going to return the favor. Especially since they were also patient with his still-developing skill in Japanese. Neither doctor nor teenager knew any German or, more surprisingly, any English—which admittedly struck him as a bit odd, but whatever—so instead they had taken it upon themselves to teach him more of their language. Axel didn't have much hope that his understanding was improving, but it was the thought that counts.

Just yesterday Kichirou had come in ranting about 'sneaking rocks and leafs' or something, so he clearly must not be making much progress on that front. Unless that was one of those unhelpfully cryptic oriental sayings, in which case… yeah, unhelpful.

So, yes. He was still bored, confused, and lost with little more than the clothes in his backpack.

Not the clothes on his back, since those had been pretty much ruined by whatever had beat him up so badly. His cellphone was another casualty of the mysterious apparently-not-with-a-truck accident, having been stuffed in his pocket. The screen was cracked and falling out of its bent casing, completely unusable, but he thought he might be able to salvage the memory card. It was a pleasant surprise, if somewhat unexplainable, to find that his backpack had survived largely unscathed.

Which meant that at least he had something he could do other than practice Japanese: take inventory of what he had. The backpack had a change of clothes, his favorite gray puffy jacket, his laptop and its solar charger, headphones, the rubik's cube he had never bothered to take out, his wallet, e-reader, and a slew of charging cords: basically what he always packed in a carry-on, just in case the airline lost his luggage. (In this case, however, it looked more like he had lost the airline.) He was decently sure that there were a few pens in there somewhere as well. All of the devices were dead at the moment, solar charger included, so he couldn't actually do much with them at the moment, but it was nice knowing they weren't in pieces.

He fiddled with the rubik's cube absentmindedly. Adri had given it to him nearly two years ago as a graduation present, demanding that he should solve it because he was a nerdy-type and she could never figure the 'cruddy color cube' out. That was honestly what she had called it. Ever since it had basically lived in his backpack. With a sigh he flicked a few sides, lining everything up, then noisily reshuffled it. Axel really hoped his sister wasn't freaking out that he wasn't back in München yet.

Or rather, that she wasn't too freaked out. The freaking out part was probably non-negotiable.

It just didn't make any sense. He should be back in München. He had been. And yet, obviously, he was not. Last he checked people in Germany spoke German… or English, at least. Frequently both.

Not neither.

With a quiet grumble that sounded suspiciously like curses (from three languages, no less), Axel took his time sliding the segments of the rubik's cube back into order. Honesty the language barrier was the most frustrating part of this whole confusing fiasco. He could never be sure if he was understanding or being understood, and actually that fact seemed to be the only thing he was sure of lately.

A few more minutes of mindless puzzle twiddling passed before a soft knock at the door told him he had a visitor. The doctor and teenager (who else could it have been, really) walked in without waiting for a reply. Kichirou, apparently very excited about something, was already talking before the door even opened all the way, leaving Axel with no time to mentally switch languages.

"Hey, man. Guess what we've sorted out?" Kichirou swung himself down into the room's only spare chair, looking inordinately pleased about something.

Dr. Kimura (or however that's phrased in Japanese, he should probably figure that out but he had always had issues with honorifics) stood to the side with a small smile and ignored the younger boy for a moment to ask, "How are you feeling today, Brandt-san?"

The pair of them talking in such quick succession did no favors for Axel's ability to understand.

"Yes," he manages, intelligently.

Kichirou rolls his eyes, having become used to Axel's speaking skills—or, more to the point, the current lack thereof. "He's fine, Kimura-sensei. Let's get to the good stuff!"

To himself, and embarrassingly several days late, Axel noted that '-sensei' is the correct honorific-type-thing to stick on the end of the doctor's name. Teachers and doctors get that ending, at least. He can probably remember that one.

"I don't see why, given your eagerness, you haven't simply charged into the matter already." The doctor walked closer and gave his patient a brief once-over, resting one hand lightly on Axel's cast and continuing after a thoughtful moment. "Though I would prefer keeping you under watch until whatever has garbled your language faculties has passed, unfortunately my clinic simply isn't large enough to loan out a room to an otherwise healthy individual."

Axel had caught barely any of that.

"So, since you can't stay here," Kichirou barreled back into the conversation, "I figure you can use the spare room we have back home!"

Oh. Oh… what?

"I… Wa— What?" Axel stuttered, managing to work out most of what was going on. "I couldn't… that's too much!"

The teen laughed, rocking back in his chair with a huge grin on his face. "Well, too bad so sad, man! Besides, I'm sure my dad'll be fine with it."

"Wait… Dein— your Va—" He had to stop himself, needing to gather his linguistic wits before trying again. "Your father doesn't agree?"

"Haven't asked yet," Kichirou replied with a shrug. "But I'm sure he'll find things for you to do to help out in the shop, maybe even the smithy, so he can't complain!"

Axel stared at him for a long moment before turning to Dr. Kim— or rather, turning to Kimura-sensei in confusion. It was true that he could probably help at least a little with blacksmithing (he liked to think he was pretty damn good at it, after all the things he had made for or sold in his university club) but this whole plan was progressing really quickly and with hardly any input on his end and, well, to be honest… he was a bit lost.

With a distinctly this-is-your-problem-not-mine shrug, the doctor pointed out, "It is not as if you have anywhere else to go, am I correct?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then it is decided."

Slumping down into his pillow, Axel felt very much like he had no control over his life at all. Between the pushy tourists from the flight which may or may not have happened, the complete mystery that was how he ended up back in Japan, and now this… perhaps the feeling was justified.

However, even though he apparently wasn't going to get any real say in the matter of lodging, Axel did manage to get a promise from Kichirou to bring his father over so they could at least meet in person before he was made to live in the same building.

Of course, he hadn't expected said meeting to happen the same day. Clearly the teen was eager to get this plan rolling.

The introduction itself was a bit peculiar, with Kichirou making sure everyone knew everyone else's name, only for everyone just stand in awkward silence for a minute. Apparently the blacksmith was a man of few words, and of course Axel simply didn't have many words to begin with. Hence everyone just staring at each other.

Morimoto Hiroshi—given name being Hiroshi with Morimoto as his family name: Axel had to remind himself that every time a name came up—was a large, muscled man who, for obvious reasons, had quite a lot in common with his son in the looks department. Both had the same coloring and even a similar hair style, though the father's was a bit longer and pulled back into a loose tail.

"There, now you've met!" Kichirou, mood almost uncomfortably (but genuinely) optimistic, nudged his father in an attempt to get him to speak up.

He didn't, just observing everyone silently.

Small talk, meet the least capable individual in this conversation. Begin.

"So zuerst…" A fantastic start, not even in the right language. Axel frowned and coughed once, as if that could temporarily clear the German from his tongue. It didn't even last for one sentence. "I am not good at speaking in… uh," and, drawing a blank, he finished, "…japanisch. Offensichtlich."

Morimoto—and Axel knew should stick on an honorific, but just using the last name would have to be polite enough for now—didn't look very surprised at the butchered sentence. He did shoot his son an understanding look, though, as if he had just made a connection to something he'd mentioned before. "Yeah, so I've been told."

"I may or may not have said you sound like a crazy person," the teen supplied, sounding wholly unconcerned.

Understanding the gist if not the exact phrasing, Axel summoned as much sarcasm as he could fit into the unfamiliar language and deadpanned, "Thanks."

The blacksmith snorted, apparently finding their interaction amusing, and a smile found its way onto his typically stern face. With a decisive nod, he asserted, "You know what?— I like this guy. If he really does need a place to stay then he's welcome to borrow our guest room."

And with that it was officially decided (apparently).

=X=X=X=

It was hot in the forge, as it always was when there was work to be done, fire dancing in the furnace. Charcoal dust drifted through the air and mixed with sand and dirt on the floor. Tools hung on their hooks over the worktable, metal made dark and worn by long use. A lone broken pair of pickup tongs lay to the side, where it had for several days now, waiting for someone to finally find the time to actually fix it.

Kichirou distractedly watched his dad maneuver glowing hot metal, actions careful and smooth with the confidence of long practice. A breath, and he plunged the steel into a vat of oil, a burst of flame flaring up orange and gold. Metal now quenched and hardened, he drew the unfinished kitchen knife from the bath, checking it for warping with a careful eye.

"Make sure it's kept vertical." It was advice Dad had repeated probably a thousand times, every single time he walked through the process. One more wouldn't hurt. "Otherwise you'll need to reforge: bubbles around the metal can damage the form."

Humming a distracted acknowledgment, Kichirou's attention flicked to the tangle of threads in his hands. He was supposed to be braiding them into a cord, something to wrap the hilt with, but frankly it wasn't going too well. His mind just couldn't settle on the task at hand. Picking at the impressive knot he had inadvertently made, the teen tried again to focus.

But still his thoughts drifted. Asked. Wondered if he would be insulted. Either of them, really.

Settling the knife under a few hot coals—the heat would temper it further during the next hour or so—his dad stepped back from his work with a satisfied nod.

Kichirou decided waiting wouldn't help anyone. "Hey, so… Dad, I was, well…"

Sure, waiting wouldn't help anyone, but he couldn't quite find the right words.

Dad turned, waited. He knew how his son sometimes stumbled through sentences, having started them without any idea where to proceed after that point.

"He's just so… alone? Er, well, it's not like I know—" he rambled, gesturing just shy of wildly. The threads of the cord he was supposed to be weaving were like streamers to his energetic, if unfocused, rant.

"Kichirou." His dad rested a firm hand on his son's shoulder, gently but firmly cutting off the string of jumbled words. "What is it?"

Taking a deep breath and refocusing, Kichirou asked, "Can we keep Axel-san?"

"…What?"

"I mean, I've never had a brother, and I guess technically I've only known him for like a week…" Drifting off, Kichirou needed another moment to find the right words. "But he fits."

His dad frowned thoughtfully, likely thinking back on his as-of-yet very brief interactions with the other man. There was so much about Axel's mannerisms, even beyond the accent and unfamiliar words, that set him apart, and yet talking to him was easy.

"I suppose so," Dad allowed, after review.

Happy for the confirmation that he wasn't just imagining things, Kichirou burst out, "RIGHT. And he knows blacksmithing. Might as well be part of the family already!" Then, with an energetic point between the two of them, he nearly tossed his half-braided cord across the room. He'd forgotten he was still holding it.

As the son fumbled with tangled strings, his dad had a sudden scheming look cross his face. "Have you, by chance, asked where he's from? Where he lives? From what I understand he doesn't have much."

Setting aside his work before he could accidentally fling it into the furnace, Kichirou shrugged. "Yeah, just a bag of stuff Kimura-sensei couldn't figure out. He did mention something about getting home, though. Somewhere… I think he called it 'Tokyo'?"

"'Tokyo'." Dad had clearly never heard of any town or village by that name either, certainly nowhere nearby. However, as he turned the word over in his mind, he seemed to think of something. "Perhaps he meant it as 'tō' and 'kyō', not a name by itself."

"How does that help? There's no capital east of…" A thought struck, and Kichirou mused, "Well, except maybe Konoha. It's kinda like a capital, right?"

They had lived in Konoha once, years ago. He had been a baby at the time, so it's not as if he could really remember anything, but his dad had told him that they had run a small family smithy there. Then, well. They were at war. An attack on the village had left their building one of very few in that district to survive, and business on an abandoned street just wasn't enough to provide for what was left of their family.

"Perhaps, if he is from Konoha…" While Dad didn't finish the thought, Kichirou could still tell there was the beginnings of a plan somewhere in that sentence fragment.

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Kichirou asked, "Just what're you planning?"

"It's need to know," Dad replied, tone so perfectly serious it was clear he was joking. He shrugged, nonchalant about whatever he was scheming. "We'll see if he needs it first."

For a moment the teen considered pressing for answers, but, knowing Dad, he'd probably just continue getting vague responses. "I'll ask him next time it comes up."

"And even if he doesn't, maybe I'll still make the offer." A smile, and then his dad just shrugged and turned back to tend the forge, adding a vague, "Who knows?"

As the conversation lulled into silence, Kichirou picked the unfinished cord back up, untangled what was left of the knot, then braided a few more strings. Another few minutes of quietly working, and he paused. Looked back up, feeling unexpectedly worried.

"Do… Do you think he'd mind if I call him 'Axel-nii'?"

"He'd better not," Dad remarked with a shrug. "I expect my family to get along, after all."

=X=X=X=

Family helps family, even when that family hasn't even realized they've been claimed yet.

Which was why, over the next week and a half, Morimoto Hiroshi joined in as another regular visitor to the clinic. Admittedly, in the beginning it was mostly curiosity and his son's nagging to drop in as a new conversational partner for the still-learning blond… but he quickly found himself honestly enjoying his visits.

Axel, for all his stumbling through sentences, was fun to talk to. Easy to talk to, even despite the technical difficulties.

Of course the language thing would be dealt with eventually, with the entire Morimoto clan (of two) forcing speech practice whenever they dropped by. Hiroshi, by virtue of not being his son—a thus not a spazzy teenager with tendencies of abrupt topic changes—was certainly a more effective teacher than Kichirou.

The current topic in their impromptu lessons was writing, specifically hiragana (for now), and Hiroshi was going through them character-by-character. Axel could read well enough—a little better than he could speak, anyway—but writing was a different matter. Kimura had been the first to notice his patient's linguistic challenges extended into the written word, having asked how to spell the blond's name and having received… unclear results. So here they were, Axel diligently trying to accurately copy the hiragana Hiroshi wrote for him.

Very diligently.

They had been at it for three hours already.

A small table had been set up in a corner of Axel's clinic room for the sake of convenience, given that he wasn't very good with the crutches he had been given. The two of them were sitting across from each other, the table between them filled with sheets of paper, some with example hiragana provided by Hiroshi and far more covered in Axel's attempts to replicate them.

Hiroshi couldn't help but grin when he spotted a few of the pages that had doodles on them instead of work. Before they had ended up on this marathon hiragana practice session, Axel had been using drawing to help fill in blanks as they talked about various things (but mostly blacksmithing, a subject they were both passionate about). The blond was actually pretty good at free-handing diagrams, but people?—not so much.

Right now Axel was just staring down at his latest try at the 'mu' character, looking rather displeased. His last three tries all looked remarkably similar, and consistently incorrect. Tired of his lack of significant progress, he pushed the paper away, accidentally bumping the table and nearly knocking over the crutches in the process.

As Axel scrambled to steady his teetering crutches, Hiroshi grabbed the practice sheet before it could slide past him. Checking over the latest scribbles, he remarked, "You're getting better."

"…Easy to be better than zero," Axel replied.

Hiroshi shook his head, a bit peeved at the self-deprecating tone. "You sell yourself short."

His protest was ignored as Axel began musing to himself, though he surprisingly didn't slip into that strange rambling like he usually does when thinking aloud. "What I need is paper with… hmm." The blond man paused in that way that meant he was searching for the right word and coming up empty. After considering, he came up with, "Squares."

A moment later and Axel seemed to have an epiphany. An epiphany he apparently thought he should have figured out earlier, since he smacked a hand to his forehead.

"Kariertes Papier."

Hiroshi snorted in amusement: there were the nonsensically harsh sounds he had expected.

Grabbing a blank sheet, Axel began drawing rows of carefully straight, thin lines. Then he drew another set that crossed the first, making a grid of near-perfect squares. Next he shuffled through the papers Hiroshi had written up, finally choosing one that had particularly large example hiragana. He boxed in one of them, tracing another grid on top of the character. Setting the two papers next to each other, Axel looked back and forth between them as he slowly copied the character. Mindful of the spacing for each stroke, thanks to the lines, his finished character looked much more like the original than his previous attempts.

"Prima!" Judging by his tone, it was clearly a happy cheer of some sort.

But Axel wasn't done yet. He set up another, smaller grid that had less lines. Drawing the same character again with less guides, then for a third time, then a fourth, and each time he each used a less detailed grid. Eventually he'd forgo the grid entirely and still be able to draw the character.

In theory, at least.

Hiroshi watched with a slight smile.

The blacksmith had seen a lot in his life, having been forced to grow up during one shinobi war, having survived, only to then lose so much in another. The blond's method might be new, but right now, sitting quietly with Axel, he was reminded of those years gone by: reminded of his own father teaching him and of him helping to teach his younger brother. The old emptiness in his heart ached, pulled tight by the unexpected reminiscence.

Like his son had pointed out: no matter how unexpected their meeting had been, he fits.

The melancholy Hiroshi had slid into didn't last long, however, as Axel rested his head on his hands and, defeated, simply stared down at his paper. His first attempt without the grid wasn't nearly as successful; the lines were rather unsteady.

"Sehr schnörkelig," he muttered, with an edge of annoyance.

One quiet blink, then two, and then Hiroshi couldn't help but burst into laughter.

Yes, he reaffirmed to himself. This was someone he wouldn't mind calling 'family'.

=X=X=X=

Once his cast was finally removed (which happened much sooner than he had really been expecting), Axel only spent a few more days in the clinic before finally being discharged with a clear bill of health. He gathered what little he had with him into his backpack, Kichirou and his father met him outside, and together they led the way through the quaint rural village to their home.

"That's the grocers," Kichirou said, pointing out a frankly adorable storefront with a few fruit and vegetable displays set up out front. The young woman working there sent them a cheery wave when she noticed them. "It's run by the Sasakis. They're pretty cool, and usually give Dad a good discount 'cause he helps repair stuff for them sometimes."

Axel was paying the teen just enough attention to generally follow what he was saying; he was too distracted by the scenery. It was brisk out, spring having just barely sprung, but the sun hanging in the blue sky overhead was doing its level best to bring temperatures up. The road was hard packed dirt—dusty, but not too bad—and all the buildings had pale walls with fairly colorful roofs. There seemed to only be one major street, with a few small offshoots, but the town didn't exactly run in straight paths; that is to say, the buildings seemed to only use the road as a very rough guideline.

Something about the architecture seemed familiar, like he'd seen pictures of it before, but Axel couldn't quite figure out what other setting the place reminded him of.

Large—wow, really large sometimes—trees could be seen branching over the rooftops and down at the end of any turns that didn't end with a building, so the village must be in a densely forested area. With huge trees. He hadn't had the time to visit the Japanese countryside during his business trip—he had worked in Tokyo for most of his time there, though he had visited other major cities, before leaving (though he apparently hadn't actually left)—but he hadn't really expected it to look like this. It didn't look much like how Studio Ghibli portrayed it in movies anyway. Then again, perhaps anime wasn't be the best source to base his expectations on.

Now that he'd thought it, yeah. Probably.

His observations were interrupted when he was forced to quickly step back, nearly overbalancing because of his heavy backpack, as a group of children barreled around the street corner. They were shouting and tossing little wooden knives at each other, pretending to be ninja as they ran and rolled away from the attacks. He noticed that they had even drawn symbols on strips of cloth tied around their foreheads.

"Oh, von Naruto," he realized, having needed a moment to recognize the spiraled leaf design as the one from the anime his sister had recently made him start watching. "Are most of the kids here…" and again a word escaped him. "…They like the show?"

"What'd you say?" Kichirou called back from farther down the street. He was waiting outside one of the shorter buildings, noticeably built with more distance between it and its neighbors: fire safety, perhaps. Since Morimoto was unlocking the door, it was a safe guess that this was their house.

Axel shrugged it off, too lazy to repeat the question. "It's nothing."

The lock released with a smooth click as he caught up to them, and the blacksmith pulled the door open to let his son and new guest inside. As is typical for Japanese homes, the entryway had a small shelf for shoes to be exchanged with slippers. Kichirou was already hopping on one foot as he struggled to remove one of his sandals.

"Come on, Axel-nii! I can't wait to show you the workshop!"

It had been one of the more frequent topics that had cropped up during their hospital conversations: the workshop, blacksmithing, and craftsmanship in general. While he might have had difficulties following an overly-excited Kichirou's dialog, Axel knew enough about the subject and could usually figure it out from context. At least, he could so long as the teen took the time to speak slow enough for him to tell the words apart.

"You'll be staying in my brother's old bedroom, though it, well, it hasn't been used in a while." Morimoto gestured down the hall, pointing out an open door at the end. "Probably a bit dusty, though we did try to clean it up. Oh, and my boy called dibs on showing off the place, so he's probably going to ditch work to give you a tour as soon as you drop off your stuff."

From somewhere else in the house there came a muffled sound that seemed to be a confirmation, and the blacksmith nodded to himself.

"I… Thank you very much," Axel managed with an awkward nod-bow, not quite sure what would be appropriate.

"Don't thank me yet: I'll probably rope you into helping around the shop." He smirked, and there was something in the expression that made Axel think the older man was planning something. "Anyway, make yourself at home! I'll be around if you need me."

Morimoto headed off through one of the other doors, leaving Axel to slide his way down the hall: they didn't have a pair of spare house slippers yet, and socks plus polished hard-wood floor make for a very unsteady walking experience. Suffice to say he was glad the doors were the Western variety, since if they had been sliding doors he wouldn't have been able to grab at any doorknobs when he felt a step land poorly.

The room at the end of the hall—his room, at least until he could figure out how to get back to Tokyo and catch a plane home for real this time—had a bed, a small desk, and a closet. As he looked around, he was a bit miffed to notice that they didn't have any power outlets. Then again, the one he had spotted at the clinic didn't look like it would match with his plug (he had an adapter, but apparently this rural town just had to be unique). It didn't really matter all that much, though, since the room did have a window and there was a good amount of sunlight filtering through.

He unpacked his backpack, laying out most of his things on the mattress but already setting up the small solar charger in the rectangle of sunlight on the desk. Deciding to leave his laptop on the desk as well, Axel stuffed the other electronics away. There was also a packet of papers—notes from the writing lessons, along with some blank ones for practice. He set them beside his laptop with a sigh. While it was true that he had gotten much better at writing, he still wasn't really… well.

One thing was certain, Axel had never been more thankful for the relative simplicity of the alphabet.

His jacket and his one change of clothes he stowed in the closet, since he would probably be staying here for a few days. While Kimura-sensei (the one honorific he could be counted on to remember) had let him leave the clinic, the man had made it quite clear that he didn't want Axel traveling across the country quite yet.

So yes, he had a few days. Maybe even a full week. And besides, he still needed to figure out how he was getting to Tokyo in the first place.

Author's Note:

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

Poor man, still hasn't realized. Though really, how long do you think it'd take you to puzzle it out if you were in his place? I, for one, would be far more inclined to thinking the disconnect of expectations to reality was my fault, not that I'd been knocked into a completely new world.
Idea Partner: Rikkamaru

Updates come on the 15th of every month.
Thanks for reading and reviewing, everyone who reads or reviews! And to anyone who cares enough about this story to favorite of follow, I hope you continue to enjoy it!

Translations:
"So zuerst…" = "So first…"
"…japanisch. Offensichtlich." = "…Japanese. Obviously."
"Kariertes Papier." = "Graph paper."
"Prima!" = "Fantastic!"
"Sehr schnörkelig." = "Very squiggly."

See ya on the flip side, everyone!