They had met, by unspoken agreement, at the bar down from the cemetery, two hours before the funeral. If they didn't leave time for Yui to fuss over their outfits, she'd be furious. At absolute best. At worst, she'd fret silently to herself, unable to ignore what was going on.
Unable to ignore who they were burying.
Sakura arrived first. Her father had offered to come with her. She'd said no, knowing he wasn't really offering. Dad was an old ninja. He understood that this was something you did with your friends. Still, it was nice of him to offer. He'd recommended the bar, too; very ninja-friendly, with good sightlines, a clear exit and few windows. You knew what you were getting, at a place like this.
She'd barely settled at the bar when Daisuke pushed through the door. They locked eyes. He looked like she felt; numb and tired, like something inside him had guttered and died. Still, he'd clearly made an effort. His katana was sheathed in the beautiful, black lacquered scabbard Ino had got him for his fourteenth birthday. The robe he wore was an elegant slate grey, with a pale blue dragon climbing up from the hem over his left shoulder.
And he wasn't wearing the hoodie. That was probably miraculous in itself.
He dropped down beside her, gestured at the bartender.
"Sakura."
"Morning."
"You look nice."
"Thanks. Mom helped me pick the outfit out."
"She has excellent taste. Mother sends her regards," he added, as the bartender poured out four small glasses of something dark that smelt of liquorice. "I had to talk her out of coming."
Sakura half-smiled. "Kind of her."
"She'll be furious about it later, I'm sure. 'So disrespectful, Daisuke! My absence will be noted! The village will ask, where was Manami? Why was she not there? And what will my answer be?'"
"To which you will say," said Ino, dropping down on the far side of Sakura, resplendent in a lilac kimono with a silver-grey floral pattern, "that this is a ninja village, mother, and things are done differently here. Besides, it was not a traditional ceremony." She wrapped her arms around Sakura's shoulders.
"Morning, asshole."
"Morning, skank," came Sakura's reply, regular as clockwork. "Your hair looks amazing."
"Thanks. I figured that's what he'd want."
"Oh, he wouldn't notice," growled Daisuke, amused.
"No. He wouldn't say anything. He would definitely notice. Yui rubs off on everyone."
Daisuke raised an eyebrow. Ino visibly fought down a blush.
"Not what I meant."
"Of course not."
"Don't you dare even imply-"
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Suke!"
Sakura relaxed a little into the familiar lull of banter. She missed this. Even in the circumstances, it was nice to be among friends. With people who understood.
The two stopped as the door opened again. Yui...
Yui had outdone herself. Her kimono was the soft pink of an autumn sunset. Her hair was swept up into a deceptively-elaborate black braid that she'd piled in a loose knot at the nape of her neck.
And her makeup was so good, it almost hid the redness around her eyes.
Daisuke rose immediately, and pulled out a stool for her. She took it with a nod of thanks, glanced at everyone's outfits. There was a long pause.
"Acceptable," she pronounced. Her voice had the rasp of a night of crying to it. "Good morning, dears."
"I took the liberty of ordering the drinks," said Daisuke. Ino winced.
"I don't get what he liked so much about it."
"Burns like a man's drink," said Sakura, in a decent imitation of Jabari's voice. The others smiled, eyes melancholy.
They took the drinks.
They drank them.
Daisuke waved for another round.
"Do you remember," said Ino, suddenly, "on graduation day, when Jabari found out Naruto had passed?"
Daisuke nodded. "He accused him of cheating, then challenged him to a fight."
"And Naruto beat the shit out of him," added Sakura. "First time I saw the shadow clone technique."
"Did they ever make up over that?"
"I believe they had another match before Naruto left with Jiraiya-san. That one ended in the bar. Why?"
"Just... wondered."
A silence settled. The bartender refilled their glasses.
They took the drinks.
They drank them.
"Gods, this stuff is awful."
"Mmm."
"He really liked it?"
"Went through bottles of it every night out. If he didn't like it, he did a great impression of it."
A pause.
"The others... I mean, everyone else has- has done this, right?"
"Mariko went to Kasumi's funeral. Didn't really talk about it after. I mean, not to me."
"She wouldn't talk to you, though."
"Point. I know Kairi went to Ren's, too."
Daisuke's face darkened, at that. Something halfway between contempt and guilt.
"I think Chouji and Shikamaru went to Goro's one, too," Sakura added, hastily. "Ino?"
"Mmm. I wasn't invited."
"Why?"
"His mom doesn't like me."
"Perish the thought."
"Shut up. I'm awesome."
"Yes."
Again, silence.
Sakura waved at the bartender, this time.
"Do- do we know how they do this? His family, I mean?"
Yui nodded. "The funeral practices of the followers of the lamb are relatively well documented," she said, dropping into a lecturing tone of voice. "The body is blessed by the priest, and a service is performed over the body called a mass. The body is then placed in a coffin, and buried with blessings."
"And we don't have to... do anything?"
"Some songs will be sung. Hymns. They'll distribute the lyrics."
Sakura nodded. "He wasn't devout, though."
"No. I'm given to understand his father is."
"Must be annoyed about the dress code, then," muttered Ino.
"Yes. Normally black would be more typical, but obviously the will supercedes that."
The bartender refilled their glasses.
They took the drinks.
They drank them.
Ino went to pay.
The bartender shook his head. "On the house."
And afterwards- after the funeral, after the bar and the consolation of drunken oblivion, after the hangover and the tears and the slow march of grieving- Sakura would wonder about that.
Wonder how many ninjas that bartender had poured drinks for, before funerals and after. How many times he'd said "on the house."
And when she visited the memorial, and saw all Jabari's name, she'd taste liquorice.
I would assume this means facing things head on, new beginnings, preparedness and concentration.
