Ugokasenai Keito, Riverbank Training Ground
"I agree, Shin," The Worm Sage said, stuffing his now-restless hands into his coat pockets. His voice managed to blend expressive language with a somewhat monotone style of speech, "I wasn't lying when I said your innate synergy as a team is off-the-charts impressive. You should have seen me when I was a genin. Hah. Put me to shame."
Keito's mind flashed back to his initially...disappointing time as a fledgling shinobi. Before being picked by the worms in an odd turn of fate, he'd been going nowhere fast. But in a way, he felt bad for Team 13. He had to grow up fast, because of the wars. They had to grow up fast, but without an obvious enemy to focus them. It was an odd time to be a Leaf Ninja, indeed.
Then, snapped out of his thought process by the sprawled out tired Makoto's question, Keito paused for a second. The Worm Sage never had to consider whether to tell the whole truth or sugarcoat things before.
"Your first mission starts tomorrow morning, oh-six-hundred," He said plainly, before beginning to walk away, first across their untidy battlegrounds, then over the top of the river itself, "We'll meet in the Hokage's office. It won't be easy. I think it would be best for all of us to get extra-restful sleep tonight. See you-"
As he finished, Ugokasenai Keito crossed the river and passed through into the heavy brush on the other side.
Ugokasenai Keito, Life of a Worm, Konoha Proper
First, Keito wandered without sight of his destination; somehow, he always ended up at Yamanaka Flowers, whether he was walking with purpose or not. It'd just become such second-nature to him now. The flower shop felt as much a home to him as Konoha itself, or sometimes even Ichimimizu. He'd even seen generations of store runners passing the shop, as his old classmate and chunin Inoichi took over full control of the shop since it re-opened after the Nine-Tails Attack.
Both shinobi, like usual, shared few words as Keito passed around the store, looking for the right flowers in his own, absent-minded selection process. Mostly, they exchanged glances and nods, and money. They'd never been close friends, but most of their other classmates were gone. In fact, Keito well considered Inoichi luckier than most; he hadn't yet needed to bury a teammate.
The Worm Sage finally settled on four orchids, four gladiolus and four daffodil, he let out a shattered smile, sniffing each one with a quiet admiration before approaching the counter.
"The usual again, I see," Inoichi cracked a smile of his own, "Just walking around for the exercise?"
"I'm always curious, but these are always the ones." Keito replied, handing his classmate the right amount of money without prompting.
"So," Inoichi took the cash and leaned in. Keito was almost surprised, as their conversations tended to end right there, "I heard you were made a jonin leader?"
"Yeah." Keito said, with a shrug that indicated even he didn't understand the decision.
"What's it like?" Inoichi asked.
"They seem like nice kids," Keito sighed, shivering in discomfort, "I just...don't want to have to start buying more flowers."
And he walked away as the somewhat surprised Yamanaka scratched at the back of his head, without words -- both men knew the life of a shinobi could only end one way.
Ugokasenai Keito, Life of a Worm, Konoha Cemetery,
"I know I always ask this," Keito started, speaking to specters again, "How did they come to bury you all together? Maybe the people who plot out grave-sites were trying to make it easy on me. I don't know. But this space is all filled up now -- whenever I go, I'll be so far from you all. I won't even be near sensei. Oh, yeah, sorry, that's why I'm here this time-"
His voice and heart stopped for a moment as the still-young Worm Sage knelt, distributing one of each of the orchids, gladiolus and daffodils on the three gravestones he stood in front of, saving one of each still for later. Off in the distance, he could see others - young kids and old grandparents alike - going through the same motions. Some for fresh wounds, some for old. Keito had too many to count, now.
Mato; his rival and closest supporter. He was the one meant for great things -- the top-of-the-class student, a ninjutsu savant with the will to change the world. The two boys always pushed each other to be better, even when getting better wasn't even much of a concern to Keito. He just always wanted to show up Mato. Without that, Keito likely wouldn't have improved as a shinobi at all in his first couple years as a genin. When war broke out, Mato declared he'd be Hokage by the end of it. Instead, he died with a dozen kunai shredding his body to near-unrecognizable bits. He died a genin, full of fear in his eyes.
Suzume; full of generosity and kindness, and in her own right a mighty taijutsu user even at their young age. She was the true captain of the trio, their spiritual leader, with a mind to study medical ninjutsu just because she liked saving tails as much as she loved kicking them. When Keito found her, her neck was twisted the opposite direction, every bone in the right side of her body shattered to a gruesome dust. She, too, died a genin, her last breaths taking in shards of her own bone into her lungs.
Two teammates - his closest friends - dead, while he and their jonin leader, Haibei, were heading on their own mission in the complete opposite direction. Keito forever cursed the order to split their team up at such a pivotal moment, but he knew, truly, that nothing could be done.
Tomoko; she had been Keito's salvation, for a moment. They were good friends as classmates and rookie genin. Child to a clan of intrepid farmers, Tomoko and Keito were drawn together from a love of the natural earth. Both survivors of the Second War, they fell in together further. One of her teammates died in battle as well, and sure enough, Keito started to find himself assigned to her team more and more often. They shared nearly everything with each other, even before they started seeing each other proper. Loss was always difficult, but having another to share in the painful experience, to help move on in spite of that -- Tomoko was his salvation. Until peace broke. War engulfed the land again. And, like Mato and Suzume, Tomoko was killed in battle. Caught in a series of set explosives, she returned to base with half of her body blown to bits, the other half burned in the third degree, before collapsing to take her final breath.
"They made me a jonin, and a team leader to boot," Keito said out loud, in a hushed whisper, "Who let them think that was the right idea? I'm going to talk to the captain in a bit. I wish I knew what advice he'd give me. All I can hear is the three of you laughing at my misfortune. Go ahead. Laugh. Mock me as you please. I can feel it, from wherever you are. Any of you would be better standing here today than I. I never even wanted to be a chunin. I just did it because...I felt I had no other choice. You all made me love it, though. You made me realize what it means to be a shinobi. I just- I don't know if I can do the same, for the next generation. I'll try, though. Thanks. I'll see you again soon."
Finished with most of his grieving, the Worm Sage wandered to the opposite end of the cemetery. Captain Haibei's grave shined under the sunlight, beckoning Keito over. The jonin placed his last few flowers by the headstone, kneeling beside it like back when he was a genin, when he and Mato and Suzume would mockingly kneel at Haibei's presence like he were some sort of King. The stoic and modest captain would grumble and demand they stop, but his genin trio would remain kneeling until he gave his orders, at which point they'd leap up and salute, with grins on their innocent faces. But Keito also remembered the wars, saving Haibei's life, wishing he could save everybody. The Nine-Tails Attack took one of his last remaining tethers to Konoha, to the human side of life. Haibei died bravely, Keito was sure. But the grave he knelt beside was empty. No body ever found.
"Hey Cap," Keito said, "I guess I'm you now. Hah. Me, a jonin, leading a team of genin Who'd have thought, out of all of us, that I'd end up here? I think fate is sick in the head, to be honest. You always seemed so prepared, I-I don't know if I can do that. I'm just getting a handle on my own, personal power, my own, personal philosophy. How am I supposed to train three kids? Did you question your readiness? It's so hard to imagine. But I was so young. I didn't know anything, hell, I hardly know anything now. You were human, so of course you had fears, regrets, worries...yet you were always there for me. Until the very end. I spent the better part of ten years begging you for answers, leaning on you to heal the pain. Now you're a fresh wound, and you'll scar like all the rest have. I guess I should have learned to stitch my own flesh by now. Sorry to bother you, even in the afterlife. Rest easy, Captain Haibei."
Ugokasenai Keito, Life of a Worm, The Morning Of
Sleep didn't come easy to Keito, as always. He chose to meditate in unmoving silence instead. It wasn't so different from him lying restless on his bed anyway.
Just before the sun rose over the rebuilding Leaf Village, Keito prepared himself for the day. It was an important day. Make-or-break for him and his team, in a sense. He could feel a rumbling in his stomach, an anxiety trying to disguise itself as n unrelenting nausea. He did his best to fight through it, breathing deep and slow as he clothed himself and exited his dim, measly apartment.
He arrived just before his own team and all the members of Team 12, walking into the Hokage's office with a slow, methodical gait. Fellow jonin leader, Byukia her genin, two younger-looking ANBU agents - one with silver hair, the other an earthy-brown - and the Fourth Hokage himself, adorned in his white and red jacket and hat pushing down his thick, spiky blond hair. Namikaze Minato seemed to lose himself to exhaustion more every day, though he maintained a strong presence in front of the young genin.
"Morning all," Keito said with a small wave as he walked up beside Byukia and the chunin assigned to her team, Sorano.
From behind his desk, the ANBU stared back through their masks without expression; the Fourth pressed his elbows against his desk, folding his hands together in a contemplative silence, his eyes firmly closed. He stayed that way, waiting for everyone available to arrive in full before getting started.
