Interlude: Pale Reflections
The moon was a hazy waxing gibbous, lurking behind intermittent clouds. Its glow cast a ghostly veil over the rough granite of the new Gōketsu Estate, which was quiet and still at this time of night. Not all its residents were slumbering, Noburi noted. One of the other Gōketsu ninja (tonight was Jin's shift, maybe?) would be keeping a watchful eye on their people, in case any important situations arose (as such situations often did when one was a member of a Clan of Sealmasters.) Besides that, young lovers occasionally snuck out, deluding themselves into thinking they wouldn't be noticed by someone trained to snap to attention at the slightest crinkle of a leaf, but they were often given their space nonetheless. And of course, the new Gōketsu clinic was always staffed, even if just by civilians who could send for Noburi when needed. It
was nice to feel needed, despite the occasionally grisly circumstances that lead to his presence being required. But neither Leaf General nor the Gōketsu clinic needed him at this hour. He had another important role to play in the family.
The others had tittered about, upon Hazō's return. Ino came by, but he waved her off after reassuring her he was fine. Mari was clearly trying not to show how badly she was ricocheting between wanting to help and doubting if her "help" would be healthy. Yuno didn't even understand what was wrong. Kagome was once again locked up in his workstation, once he was sure everyone was still alive. Akane- oh, right. Kei was dealing with some burden of her own that Noburi still hadn't been told about. It seemed they all carried more of those these days.
Which left Noburi.
Hazō faced the moon, sitting on the roof of Akane's seal bank slash shrine, one of the only buildings on their estate that actually looked halfway decent, though the estate was soon due for an overhaul. In spite of, or perhaps because of the clan's income changing like the seasons, it seemed that fortune had favored them again. Noburi had been meaning to ask what harebrained scheme Hazō pulled to manage the sudden windfall this time, and what harebrained scheme he was expecting to ruin it all again, but now didn't seem like the time. With a deft hop, he landed beside Hazō, without a whisper of a splash coming from his barrel. He'd like to see cousin Kiri manage
that.
"'Sup bro," he said evenly. Might as well ease into things first.
"Noburi, do you think I'm a good person?" Hazō asked, without looking at him. So much for easing into things.
"Of course I do. With the number of lives you've saved with your ideas and projects, I'd say only Tsunade gives you a run for your money-"
Hazō gave a frustrated huff, cutting him off. "Stop. Just… think about it for ten seconds? And give me your honest answer. Not 'do I do good things.'
Am I a good person?"
Noburi winced at the note of desperation but did as he was asked, taking ten seconds to consider the question.
Did he think Hazō was a good person, examining him as objectively as he was able to?
After a pause, Noburi carefully began to construct his response. "I think… that you try. You see suffering in others and you want it to stop. You feel remorse for your part in the suffering of others. You… you seek to improve where you've slipped up…" he trailed off, but picked back up quickly. "What
is a good person if not someone that wants to help reduce the pain that other people experience?"
"I agree with that definition.
You are a good person, Noburi… It's getting harder and harder to believe that applies to me too." His voice hitched a fraction but he pressed onward. "You said I'm seeking to improve my slip ups, but I'm constantly feeling like I'm trending the wrong way. My attempts to improve the world may have led to as many deaths as lives I've saved. I haven't dared ask Shikamaru to run the numbers on it for fear of the answer." Finally, he looked at Noburi, a hollow look in his eye, one that showed such vacancy in the heart. Noburi didn't realize Hazō had ever experienced something like that. Even when Akane… disappeared, Hazō showed pain, anguish, anger… not
defeat. Noburi had seen patients diagnosed with terminal illness look more chipper than Hazō did right now.
Monotone, Hazō asked, "Noburi… have you ever killed someone?"
"You're not exactly helping those Jashinist rumors with questions like that, bro," Noburi joked, but Hazō didn't take the bait.
"You haven't, not directly?"
Noburi sighed. "Not like what you meant. There was, of course, the Sunset Racer." Somehow, it always came back to that damned boat. "There've been surgeries I've performed where… maybe if it had been Tsunade performing it, they'd have lived. My hands aren't delicate enough, precise enough, to do what she does, and I don't have the skills in medical ninjutsu to come back from a catastrophic failure the way she does. I guess… in that regard, I get what you mean. It sucks, to put in all that work into trying to save someone, and ultimately, being the one who dooms them. Maybe they'd have been doomed if I hadn't helped, maybe not. But I tried helping nonetheless, and they were dead by the time I was done. Still, with the way this world is, I'm sure there'll come a day where I'll have to kill someone personally. I can't say I look forward to it, but I think I've made my peace with it, as best as I can. We were raised to do it, after all."
Hazō nodded, absorbing that. "Killing a person changes you, they say. Well, maybe at first. I've directly killed maybe two dozen people by now, more depending on how you count Summons… Just today Hidan had me butcher a dozen bandits to uphold Jashin's Birth aspect or whatever. Do you know what I felt afterwards?"
Noburi shivered, but he suspected he knew the answer. "Nothing."
Hazō nodded. "It was so easy. Like splitting wood for the fireplace. And people look at me like I'm crazy for thinking there's something
wrong with that. Why don't any of us
feel anything about that? If Jiraiya were sitting on the other side of me, and I asked him if that made me a bad person, he'd laugh in my face. But, you know… if I asked him if he thought
he was a good person… I don't think he'd have said yes." Hazō shook his head. "I can feel myself becoming that, a little more, every day. The lives become more abstract, the deaths become easier. This world of Death turns us into more instruments of Death, and everyone learns to love it, or at least do their best not to care." Hazō rubbed the roof of Akane's shrine gently. "This world, this village, and I… we turned
her into that too. One of the only people I've ever met who was sane enough to
hate that process for what it was, and we put her through it. Showed her that all her ideals and principles were nothing but ash she'd mistaken for her inner Will of Fire. It tore her up and then this world took her away. Even if- even
when I-
we get her back, I can't… I can't give her that back. It was
stolen from her. And it was stolen from me too, I just wasn't as upset about it as her. Not until I realized how precious a thing it was that I'd lost. When I saw how much it had meant to
her."
Noburi processed that. No one could deny how the war had changed Akane. Their resident ray of sunshine had become a dreary raincloud looming over them. And yet…
"Hazō… what this world, and I do mean
this world, not
you, turned her into, it- it sucks. It does, but- fuck, I feel like an ass just for saying it-"
"She wasn't being realistic?" Hazō supplied.
"Pragmatic, maybe. After everything we've accomplished together and
will accomplish together, I wouldn't dare tell anyone what can or can't be made real. But still, yeah. As much as I wish that every patient that rolls into the hospital can be saved, I know that's not the case, not yet. And sometimes it's hard not to think that if medicine were more valued, if more medics were mandated by the Tower, if our work was respected enough to be allowed to use Shadow Clone, so many lives wouldn't be lost for no reason."
Hazō scoffed. "That's easy to say when you were the doctor sidelined by the Tower, and not the disease they unleashed on their enemies."
Noburi scowled, gripping Hazō's shoulder. "Look bro, I loved Akane too. She was the older sister I never had. She was put in a lose-lose situation and had to do things she regretted, and that burns me up inside, no theocratic metaphor intended." Despite everything, Hazō smirked at that. Noburi pressed on. "But you're fucking wrong. Her ideals weren't stolen from her, okay? What was stolen was her chance to grow back tougher, to remind our family why we fell in love with her in the first place. What was stolen was her chance to heal, to learn from her mistakes, and to become strong enough and wise enough not to make them again. To become someone who could protect others from needing to make those same choices. And when we get her back, she'll have that chance again. You'll have that chance, too."
"I'm… I'm afraid, Noburi. From what I've been trending towards… I don't know if I'll like who I am by then. I don't know how much of
me is going to be left. I don't know if I can
stand being what I need to become to do the things I have to."
"Sheesh, you sound like a character right out of Jiraiya's writing."
"I'm serious!"
"I know, that's the worst part about it." Hazō opened his mouth in protest, but Noburi kept going. "And I'm going to tell you what they always need to be told. I believe in you, even if you don't. See? Easy."
Hazō didn't even roll his eyes. That vacancy was still there, though lessened. With little mirth, Hazō said, "Somehow, I don't feel better."
Noburi held up his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine, shows how much my support is valued, I guess. Look, Hazō… When we lived in Mist, it was hard to have heroes. Yagura, Zabuza, Terumi Mei, Mori Ryūgamine… it was more like- like having a bunch of scary ghosts that I also sort of respected lurking in the corners of my eyes all the time. And then we were missing-nin, and we bumped into Jiraiya, who we'd been raised to fear and hate and all that, but… he treated us well, treated us
mostly fairly, he won me over. He arranged a teacher, got me into medicine. And then he took us in and I got to be a part of that legend up close. And Tsunade, well, it goes without saying. There's few people I admire more than her. Losing that apprenticeship killed me inside. But, well, for all the respect I still hold for them, somewhere in there, they stopped being my heroes."
"Why?"
"One simple reason. They stopped believing. They quit, they settled. Tsunade stopped believing the world could be improved, she resigned herself to making it the
least bad she could. Jiraiya may have never believed it in the first place, and- dammit, I know he meant well, but it made my blood boil sometimes how he shut you,
us, down on occasion. How he
refused to consider that maybe, just maybe, we
could play in the big leagues and make a goddamned difference. He became the strongest man in the world with little to show for it. Against all odds…
Jiraiya of all people fucking
played it safe. And that cynicism just oozed into me a little more every time he expressed it. Except one small thing happened."
He put an arm around Hazō's shoulder.
"
You happened.
You started to make him believe.
You stood your ground and told Lady Tsunade I was worth something as a doctor when she didn't dare take me seriously, then you turned around and had her laughing aloud at Clan Council meetings, as the Gōketsu trapped Leaf's Clans into giving a damn for once.
You helped Ami overcome that poisonous cynicism, of being resigned to the world dying and watching it happen, turned her from nothing but a chaos gremlin into… well, a slightly less cynical chaos gremlin, I guess.
You killed something the Sage never managed to, to protect a world that wasn't even yours.
You created the means to get us citizenship in an enemy village, to get us political power and a path to fix things. Jiraiya and Tsunade stopped being my heroes, because that spot got filled by
you."
Hazō blinked in surprise.
"Don't go getting a fat head on me, now. You're still hopeless without the rest of us to rein you in."
Now Hazō rolled his eyes. "I don't know what kind of guy you're gonna be when we're all legendary S-Rank badasses. Probably not as suave and handsome as I am, but I'm sure you'll still be pretty cool. Maybe you'll be a little colder, more calculated, I don't know. But there's one thing my hero doesn't get to be, and that's a
quitter. We're the Gōketsu, we don't back down. Maybe we retreat, we reassess, we make concessions, but we don't give up on the things that really matter. Ever. We find a way, no matter how long it takes us. For all the pain Akane went through after the war, I believe she still understood that. Maybe that's
why it hurt so bad. Because after all of that, she understood that she couldn't just let it go. She had to carry that weight. Because it fucking mattered, and because we don't settle down and accept that that's the way things are, no matter how frustrating or despair-inducing it is. Whatever it is you gotta do, Hazō, you gotta do. Maybe I'll judge you for it, or I won't know how to feel about it, but I meant it when I said I believed in you. We all do, in our own way, even if we don't always show it. And no one believed in you more than she did. More than she
does."
Hazō didn't reply, looking back at the moon.
"No pressure, by the way."
Hazō socked him in the shoulder, getting an anguished laugh from Noburi. Though lessened, there was still a trace of that emptiness in Hazō's expression… some things, only time could heal, but Noburi did believe
anything could heal. An ambitious doctor couldn't believe any less.
"For what it's worth, Noburi, you're my hero too."
"Well, of course. That just goes without saying."
Hazō socked him in the shoulder again.