damned_institute | Day 44: breakfast

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Day 44: breakfast

Yuffie had died.

No, really. Seriously. She had actually died. Bleeding all over the place, making a horrid, sticky mess and scaring the hell out of Suzaku; she remembered it clearly. Kind of. Sort of. Through the blood loss, the pain, and the visions. Through Aerith's voice whispering in her ear, Cloud's stricken eyes, and her own panic. As bad nights went, it had been Bad, capital B and all the trimmings, and oh, god. She sat, trembling on the edge of her bed, eyes closed and hands pressed hard over her racing heart. The by-play between Landel—Landel!—and Lydia barely even sunk in. There was nothing in the whole world, any world, that could prepare you for something like…

Had it all been some kind of hallucination?

Had she imagined the whole thing?

No… She didn't think so. Nightmarish or not, Yuffie knew reality. But if it had been real, how was she alive now? That kind of pain wasn't something you could just cook up, was it? She thought about it all the way to the cafeteria, drifting behind her nurse without focus or intent. Maybe if she tried to stay clinical, tried to step back… But she'd never been good at that when things got personal. And every time she closed her eyes or blinked, she swore that the scenes played back to her, like an overused commercial on a crappy channel on a crappy TV, in a run-down dump of an inn that smelled like mothballs and yesterday's breakfast.

The scent of blood and damp, rotted wood clogged her nose. Disgusted, Yuffie shoved her bowl of cereal—handed to her by a clucking Plucky—off to the side so that she could melt into her chair, palm heels scrubbing against her eyes. Too much. This was… Too much. She couldn't even paste a plastic smile on her face to make herself feel better. Her usual shield, the white noise of inane babble that could filter out almost any crisis, was in tatters all around her. Five minutes, she gave herself.

Five minutes (not) to think, five minutes to get her act together, because there was no way she could let herself shatter here. No way…

[Closed to Sheena]

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Sai didn't hear the announcement, didn't hear his nurse as she shook him to wake him. He moved mechanically, rolling to the side to view his roommate's bed, free of blood and with no sign of his fellow ninja. He stood and followed his nurse without a word, not responding to her increasingly worried questions and stopping only in the sun room to check the bulletin.

Shikamaru might still be alive, Kakashi told him, and Sai regained some sense of himself - realized where he was and what he'd been doing. He asked the nurse for breakfast and she was at once all smiles. How tired he must have been, she said, for him to only be waking up now.

He took a while to find his seat once he had a tray, scanning the area for familiar faces. For one familiar face in particular. The ninja knew he couldn't continue to be this way.

[for Shikamaru]

[sorry he's all hiding in a corner and such.]

Later, much later, Shikamaru would realize how strange it was that he didn't wake up with a start. Instead, awareness came slowly, so slowly that he might have have found it painful if everything hadn't felt so numb. After burying himself under the blanket he curled up, arms around his body and knees to his forehead, eyes closed. His body protested, muscle memory claiming that he was better at unfolding than folding, but he had no other option. Beneath the numbness but not quite an emotion, something close to panic forced him to hold himself as closely as possible. Hold on to anything he could. He barely recognized himself before a voice broke the necessary silence.

"Rise and shine!" Familiar. He knotted the blanket's fabric between his fingers, and when she tried to pull it away, he clung to it with as much strength as he could summon.

"I need more time," he said, though he managed to blink a few times. Through woven cotton the light was filtered white, sun behind an overcast sky. It was a good description: overcast. So many clouds that none were distinct, worse than a barren blue. Shikamaru wasn't sure if he had a headache. He wasn't sure about much.

"It's high time you got out of bed," she said, and with a more forceful yank, the blanket was jerked away. He covered his head and went through the pleas he'd used as a child: not yet, too sick, just a few more minutes. Reality was coming back slowly, and an irrational fear told him that if he moved too far or too quickly, the rest of himself might not find him.

So that was what dying felt like. And this was what life felt like, if one hadn't had sixteen years to adjust to it. It wasn't until she tried to pull on his arm that he sat up of his own volition, but the disorientation didn't pass. "You'll feel better once you get some food in you," she said. The idea of eating made him nauseous.

When she finally got him into the cafeteria and loaded a plate with food, Shikamaru sat as far away from the others as possible, eyes on the ground ahead of him. As much as he wanted to bury his head in his arms, he knew the nurse would protest. Instead, he pretended to focus on the food, pushing the syrup around with a plastic fork until he realized that his hands were trembling too much to properly hold any kind of utensil. Great. Just what a ninja needed. The lights were too bright and everything inside him was dull and unfinished, grey. Distantly, he knew that he should be glad to be alive, but he couldn't summon the energy to be glad about anything.

It took him a while, and one of the nurses began trying to lead him toward a table with different occupants, but Sai was determined and he finally caught sight of a familiar ponytail out of the corner of his eye. He excused himself, moving with quick strides towards Shikamaru's table.

The other ninja was alive, just as Kakashi had said. It wasn't every day you got to see someone die in front of you only to be able to greet them again the next morning.

Sai set his tray down in front of the other boy, immediately looking him over for signs of injury. He wanted to grab Shikamaru's chin, tilt his head up to check his eyes, lift his shirt to see if there were any remains of the wounds he'd suffered. Those things were best not done in such a public location, though. The other ninja wouldn't like it at all.

"How are you feeling?" he asked instead, still leaning in closer than he probably should have.

The appropriateness or inappropriateness of Sai's movements were lost on Shikamaru, who seemed intent on his waffle though he had no intention of eating it. "The wound was gone when I woke up," he said, voice controlled partially by effort and partially by exhaustion. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to elaborate. "I'd think it was some kind of illusion, but..."

But it wasn't. He'd felt those last seconds draining away, listened to that voice. Felt the spasms of pain at the base of his rib cage and the way they grew continually distant as some part of him pulled away. The way his mouth filled with blood. That was why he couldn't eat: that memory of blood. It was hard to imagine anything not tasting like blood.

He didn't meet Sai's eyes. "Was I..." he started, voice uncertain. Dead? If Sai had just left when he'd told him to, the other ninja wouldn't have had to witness it. Sure, he'd probably seen death dozens of times before, but Sai had been so fragile then. He didn't need people dying in front of him.

Sai understood the question, and he nodded slowly. Shikamaru's heart and breaths had stopped last night. For all anyone could tell, he'd died last night. It was possible there had still been just enough of a spark of life in him for the coming of morning to save him, but that wouldn't explain how he'd been completely healed. If the bulletin was anything to go by, this had happened to many people over the course of the night.

"We should speak with Kakashi. It sounds like he experienced something similar, or at least knew what to expect with your situation this morning." How he knew they couldn't be sure of. Sai hadn't known. He hadn't had a clue what to do once Shikamaru started bleeding everywhere. Then again, he hadn't been in the best state of mind. It was possible he'd failed his fellow ninja without even leaving the room.

So he had died. That explained some of it, as well as it could be explained...at least, it explained some of what he was feeling now.

"I don't want to talk to Kakashi," he said. He moved his still-trembling hands under the table before they could be used to make any point. Shikamaru heard and appreciated the ninja's choice of words: 'we should speak with Kakashi' instead of 'you should speak with Kakashi." It was a small detail, but if he'd had more energy, he'd be surprised that the emotionally stunted ninja could sense that he needed some kind of support. Shikamaru wasn't happy about needing anything, but as he'd explained to Sai the previous night, it was better than breaking down at some time of crisis.

Still, this was something he'd have to deal with himself, preferably when alone.

If it had something to do with previous deaths, it made sense that Kakashi, a seasoned jounin, had fit whatever criteria the situation required. Shikamaru didn't feel like being understood, though. Even if someone could understand, he didn't want to talk about it, and it felt intensely personal. He'd only gotten himself in order days before showing up here, and that had taken more strength of will than he thought he'd possessed. This place kept pulling at loose strings, trying to make him come undone.

The clouded sensation remained, and he resisted the urge to pull his legs to his body as he scanned the room. None of it seemed real. How could it? It wasn't.

"If we ever do get out of this place, what do you think will happen?" he asked, finally looking back to Sai.

Edited 2009-09-21 18:12 (UTC)

"You're upset." The statement was made calmly. Unfortunately, Sai couldn't say much of anything about how being upset wasn't going to help matters. Not when he wasn't completely sound emotionally himself. Really, if Shikamaru had died for no reason that night, he had every right to be upset. It had been difficult just watching it happen. "Once we've both had a chance to calm down, we should speak with him. Even if we don't want to."

Because Sai couldn't pretend he'd so easily recovered from the events of the day before, not now that his weakness had been bared to others.

The question caught him off guard. He stared blankly at the other ninja. What sort of answer was he looking for, and how did he expect Sai to be able to provide it? "I... couldn't say." He hadn't heard of anyone getting out aside from simply disappearing or being 'released.' While he'd given some thought to what this might mean, he'd ultimately resolved to just work toward escape or whatever other goal the other ninja from his village had without thinking about what might happen if they succeeded.

Having the word used so plainly gave Shikamaru pause, and his mostly blank expression turned into a frown, as if he were considering the possibility for the first time. Yes, he was upset. His thoughts weren't clear enough to understand why. Was he upset about dying? About the memories? It didn't matter. He knew his limits, and he knew that he'd been pushed beyond them and was useless until he recovered. Sai seemed to know too, and Shikamaru gave a very small nod to indicate that he saw his own weakness. It was the core of the lecture he'd given the other ninja last night. However, self-awareness didn't change the facts.

"We can't keep relying on Kakashi to hold everything together," he said quietly. "He's got his own stuff to deal with, and even if he's here now, he could be dead tomorrow." It contradicted everything he'd thought the night before, but it was still true: sooner or later, everyone died, and Shikamaru knew what it was like to unexpectedly lose someone you depended on.

Given the circumstances, he was surprised Kakashi'd held himself together as well as he had. Dying once had left Shikamaru barely functional. Now, Kakashi had died twice. Although he resisted pulling his legs onto the chair, Shikamaru folded his arms tightly, as if protecting himself from a strong wind. "No one sticks around forever. As bothersome as it is, we need to learn to do this stuff ourselves."

He disregarded the answer to his second question...it was something he shouldn't have asked at all, not yet. The thought weighed on him, but this wasn't the time to deal with it.

For a few seconds, Shikamaru was silent, trying to pull the right words from the hazy chaos of his mind. "You need to talk to someone," he said, breaking the 'we' that had carried the conversation to this point. "It can be me, or you can track down Naruto or Sakura or whoever you're comfortable with. I meant what I said last night. It's dangerous to hide from yourself." He might have made a gesture to indicate that any Leaf-nin would provide the support Sai needed, but his fingers were firmly embedded in his sides. "I don't know what I'll do," he continued quietly, selfishly forgetting that dealing with emotion should be much easier for him than someone who'd been trained from a young age to remain stoic. "I'll figure something out, though," he added.

Dark eyes narrowed at Shikamaru as the other ninja finished speaking, though Sai's expression was neutral besides. The Root member couldn't read others well. It came with his own lack of emotions and had been a problem in the past. What he did know was the way he'd acted the night before - jumping to Shikamaru's aid not only because the boy was in trouble, but because it meant that he wasn't the focal point anymore. He wasn't the one with all the issues. He felt as if the other leaf-nin was doing this now, redirecting worry for himself.

Was this what it was like to feel empathy? No amount of words in a book could properly express the meaning. What sort of gesture was appropriate? A hug? Usopp might have appreciated that, but he didn't believe the same would hold true with Shikamaru. His posture wasn't indicative of someone who wanted to be touched just then.

"We need to report to Kakashi because he's our leader." Even here, separated as they were, they could cling to that familiar concept. "That doesn't mean we rely on him for everything. A leader is replaceable, but still a position to be filled." And if he'd experienced something similar, they should discuss it. There was no reason to avoid that.

The matter of his own broken self caused Sai to drop his eyes to the table. Should he speak to Naruto? Add another problem on top of the ones he was already dealing with? "If you spoke with me, do you think it would help you as well?" For him to offer help but not want it back in return looked like avoidance again.

He tensed slightly at the idea that leaders were replaceable, but Shikamaru knew that it was a reasonable conclusion to draw based on what he'd said about Kakashi.

"In my case, there's nothing to report," he said. "He knows exactly what happened, if he experienced it himself, and it's obvious that he doesn't want to talk about his own experience." A lot had taken place after Asuma's death, and as a fellow jounin, Kakashi would have been there for it. Shikamaru had distanced himself from the body. Even the word 'body' made something in his haze solidify enough to recoil, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the nausea to pass. It was no secret in Konoha; his absence must have been noticed at Asuma's funeral.

"Kakashi's much stronger than me," he added, words simple, as if he were stating a fact about the weather. "He can handle this stuff better. He's had more experience." At least, he could separate himself from his emotions well enough to continue functioning at the same level. "I won't be going with the group tonight," Shikamaru continued, "and I'll tell him that much. I'm a liability." He held himself to the same standards he'd used on Sai the night before. Shikamaru was in no condition to strategize. Even now, under or over his numbness, he felt the chill of rain and lingering scent of smoke and blood. "If you want to report to him, that's your call." If Shikamaru didn't plan on accompanying the team, there was no reason to waste Kakashi's time with his emotional state, even if Kakashi was willing to listen.

Another quiet moment passed. Shikamaru was good at long silences, but usually they were much more comfortable, the kind spent alone or casually with friends. Not this. After a while, he rubbed his neck and looked up. Halogen lighting. Blank white. "I don't know," he said in response to the last question. "I'm not great at helping people with that kind of stuff." He wasn't sure if making someone cry could be considered a positive outcome. "I figured you'd rather go to someone you're closer to, but if you do want to talk to me, I'll do what I can." Considering how eager he'd been for escape the night before, it was a hefty offer.

Shikamaru finally gave in and pulled one leg to his body, arms loosely folded around it and chin resting on his knee. Being secretive wasn't in his nature, and though others might consider his emotions excessive or shameful, he wasn't about to start hiding his weaknesses. "I can't talk about it. I would if I could. I just thought I'd moved past all of this stuff, and it's a pain in the ass to see that I haven't." There was no way to fulfill any of his promises if he kept acting like a kid, and despite the pain and blood and actually dying, the occurrence had reminded him how important those promises had been.

"You're good at making excuses." Sai felt detached from the situation, the feeling having only grown as Shikamaru continued to speak. The boy was babbling, addressing matters that didn't need to be addressed. And once again there was that need to offer some form of comfort, to express feelings he was unfamiliar with or to give words of encouragement, only he didn't know what he'd say.

He clasped his hands in his lap. "Kakashi needn't tell us anything he's uncomfortable with, and the same goes for you. You seem worried about an interrogation when such measures wouldn't be necessary. What happened with you obviously caused some severe mental stress, and the Institute forces enough out of us without us adding to it." Sai wasn't certain he was getting the right message across, as this particular conversation wasn't one he dealt with on the field. This was Naruto's territory.

"It's simply a matter of not being left alone with your thoughts." A kunai in the door, a cry for help and the need for an open ear. "I couldn't begin to claim I was any good at this sort of thing. You might know better than me when it all comes down to it." Though what they really needed was a third party. Perhaps this was why he kept mentioning the jounin.

Shikamaru gave a small snort of laughter at the idea that he was good at excuses. It wasn't as lighthearted and genuine as it would have normally sounded, instead mildly hollow but not derisive. He felt as though he were going through the motions, but at least he was going through the motions. That counted for something. He could just be curled up under his blanket, which he'd vastly prefer.

"What do you think Kakashi can do?" Shikamaru asked. Maybe the jounin could do something for Sai, but Shikamaru was sick of depending on people who were going to die. He was getting sick of depending on people, period, and he was getting really sick of the fact that he couldn't even depend on himself.

He unfolded enough to rest his chin in his hand, which was a substantial improvement even though he still didn't meet the eyes of the boy across from him. "I need to be left alone with my thoughts, though," he said. He picked up the fork and swirled the warm syrup, remembered the consistency of blood, then put the fork back on the table. There were too many differences in their training...essentially, they needed opposite things, and what each of them needed was contradictory to what they thought was their nature. "Kakashi likes trying to help people. I don't think he'll interrogate me, but he'll try to help me, and I need to do this myself. I promised someone I'd learn to act more like an adult." It was a tall order for someone like Shikamaru, but he planned to follow through with it. Last night's reminder left it painfully fresh in his thoughts. "I've been depending on people my whole life."

After frowning at the plastic utensils for what seemed like longer than it actually was, Shikamaru's expression changed to something thoughtful and he looked up. "Did that bother you? Me dying?" It hadn't occurred to him that that might be part of the discussion. He'd been sure it was only about Sai's visitor shift and related concerns, Sai's training, and Shikamaru's own issues with death, particularly Asuma's.

Edited 2009-09-23 10:26 (UTC)

"I..." Sai stared at the table, a frown on his face - something he'd been showing quite a bit more often since he'd been brought into this place. Had it bothered him? "Death is something you see often on the battlefield, or during difficult missions. I've lost teammates in the past, but..." He shook his head, at a loss of how to properly put his feelings into words. "There was something different about that. The suddenness of it and the lack of any real source for your suffering. It was wrong."

And the way Shikamaru's blood had run through his fingers, staining sheets that would be magically clean come morning. If the other ninja had died for good then, he would have found the death to be incredibly cheapened and meaningless.

He raised his eyes, looking lost. "I don't know what talking with Kakashi would do for you. I honestly don't know what to recommend at all, but that seemed like the best idea." From what he'd read and from what he'd seen... But people were different. He was aware of that. He and Shikamaru were nothing alike, and he wasn't even sure a talk with the jounin would help himself. "I apologize if you think I'm in the wrong."

"I just don't want to keep depending on people," Shikamaru said. He noted Sai's expression and frowned himself, though the expression didn't seem anywhere near as foreign on him. "It's one thing to depend on your team, and I do. But Kakashi's got his own things to deal with, and I can't keep going to him for help on emotional matters." He sort of wished he could. Not that he'd had any serious emotional concerns at home--most of his problems were limited to pushy women and the general hassle of life--but he knew that if anything had ever actually, seriously been wrong, he could have talked about it with Asuma. Funny how that worked.

"There's nothing to apologize for," he said with a shrug and a small smile that was about 85% genuine. Sai was trying to help, despite how hard Shikamaru imagined it must be for him. "If I really can't handle it, I'll go to someone before it gets worse. It's just, I have to try to do this myself. I've never been on my own like this before."

It looked like the nurses were clearing people out and picking up trays, so he stood up. "If you need anything, though, you know how to get in touch with any of us."

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Day 44: breakfast

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