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Summary:

Genma doesn’t know why he remembers.

But he does, and it’s more trouble than it’s worth.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

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The first thing that comes back to him is a funeral.

He doesn’t recognize the face shown in the frame, the glass glinting dim under the lack of sunlight, and Genma hears a distant rumbling sound as patters of water come raining down.

He glances to the left, pointedly ignoring hundreds of people standing in lines around him, head bowed and eyes downcast, and—

Another frame. And some more. All lined up next to each other and surrounded by flowers and objects that were once dear, and Genma—

Hokage-sama.

He doesn’t know why and how the word enters his mind, but it does, along with a face and a sound and an impossible blue, other names following, some connected to the ones in the frames, some all around him, and there’s the trees, ditches, explosions, scratches on the stone—

Genma doubles over and gags.

He sees the blurry image of his parents rushing to him before his eyes flutter shut.

.

Genma doesn’t come to school for the rest of the week. He doesn’t have a problem with it—is even slightly happy that he gets to skip one mind-numbing history class—but his parents are starting to get fussy and asking about how he feels every other hour or so.

…It may be his fault, though. Kind of.

He might have suddenly acquired some weird, concerning visions, but maybe he should have thought twice before telling his parents about it.

(Not that he has said much, actually. Has just stared blankly at his parents, his hands, and asked “How am I still alive?” and immediately regretted it when his mother looked like she was having a heart attack).

After the incident, Genma has sneaked around and turned on his computer in the dead of the night, despite his parents’ temporary prohibition on anything electronic, and quickly searched for things he never thought he would ever look into.

Because crippling headache and nausea aside, he isn’t sure what to do if he’s starting to literally go insane.

Clicking on every website—visibly questionable or not—he skims through the articles (which aren’t that many, actually) and stops at one discussion forum, people sharing similar stories, and—

…Genma stares. Exits the tabs. Turns off the device.

He walks back to his room and lays on the bed, eyes boring holes into the ceiling.

He doesn’t know what to feel about the stupid, farcical idea of reincarnation.

.

The vision, much to his misery and annoyance, don’t stop, and Genma is forced to live the next couple days seeing things in an interlapping kind of way, too much information shoved in his brain in too little time, and more often than not he brings himself and spends time laying face-down on the infirmary bed.

He doesn’t want to admit it—has spent effort in trying to ignore every detail he sees—but the more scenes he remembers—the more nostalgic the faces and names become—the more he feels like… like it’s real. Like he has lived like the wind, once, in a small village so green and bright, with people he calls his home, and Genma knows he is completely messed up when he raises a hand one day, calling someone across the school field before he remembers that they don’t know each other.

Not currently. Or never, really, if the confused, mildly irritated look the person gives him is anything to go by.

“Dude, are you on drugs??”

A classmate has said, one time when Genma has to stay in the classroom lest he misses an important exam, face contorted in concern despite the words.

“Something called coffee, yeah.”

There is no drop of caffeine currently circulating in his body, but it’s a much more accepted answer, so he just graciously accepts a bottle of water given to him and focuses on the exam.

༄ ༄ ༄

“…What are these?”

He looks at the table, the mountain of snacks piled on top of it, and finally at his—relatively new—friend.

“Uh, well…” said friend glances at the floor before pointing at the foods with a thumb, one hand holding an empty plastic bag and another rubbing the back of his neck, “You look pretty upset that you lost the sparring match today, so I went to buy snacks, but then I don’t know what you like, so…”

Genma blinks. He has made sure to school his face to something neutral the moment he gets thrown on his back and is declared lost at the hand of a certain upperclassman at the academy, but he guesses he can’t quite hide the frustration, after all.

“…So you just… what. Bought everything?”

His friend looks sheepish but doesn’t say no, and Genma feels his bitterness slowly leaving him as he eyes the snacks, things ranging from sweet to salty to spicy and even sour.

“I can’t finish all of these, though” he says, a smile curling on his lips as he puts away the stick dangling from his mouth, “So why don’t we eat toge—”

Genma blinks. He looks up, around, and realizes he is frozen right in front of the infirmary door. Not uncommon these days, he thinks, and it’s good to know there’s no one in the hallway today to see the stupid face he is sure he makes everytime he fades away for a bit.

Tilting his head, he knocks on the door and opens it, already on his way to one of the beds. It sucks that he is about to skip chemistry, but with the way his head is throbbing with voices and sounds and places, he is probably not going to understand a single thing the teacher says anyway.

“Are you here for some meds?” a feminine voice asks from the side and Genma turns around in surprise. The nurse is never there and the assigned assistant for that day usually comes at breaks and a little after school, so who—

Short black hair. Big eyes with dark pupils. A cheery smile—

“…Shizune…?”

The girl blinks up at him, “Oh, you know me?” she looks confused, but the smile comes back easily, “Did Tsunade-shisou talk about me?”

Genma feels his brain shut off, static in the background, despite the distant, vague thoughts of Shizune. And Godaime. The Godaime is here. So the Mrs. Senju is—

“What’s wrong?” the girl—Shizune says, note frighteningly familiar, “Are you in pain anywhere?”

Genma swallows, the infirmary swirls into something with more woods and more trees and leaves on the window, and he clenches his fists, turns around and runs.

༄ ༄ ༄

“Think we can survive this?”

They stand on a cliff edge, endless black staring back up, but there’s no mistaking the rolling, eerie chakra coming out of the void.

“Unless one of us has magically acquired a kekkei genkai that allows us to survive a chakra bomb that activates on contact, then nah, no chance.”

His answer is light, almost a laugh, but his fingers twitch and he can’t quite ignore the glare from his right.

“I’m serious, Genma.” Raidō’s voice cut through the ringing in his ears.

“So am I.”

There’s a huff, a shake of the head, and a soft murmur, “I don’t suppose you’re going to go back even if I tell you to, will you?”

A real laugh this time, “Will you?” he dares, and a mirroring smile is displayed on his friend’s face.

“No” the guy says, and he straightens up, looks down, “Together, then?”

There’s no verbal answer as they jump right off the edge.

༄ ༄ ༄

Genma clenches and unclenches his hand, a bowl of soba staying untouched in front of him.

“Aren’t you gonna eat that?”

Genma frowns, finally reaches for the chopsticks before looking at the food and putting it back on the table.

“Huh” his dark-haired classmate says, himself already wolfing down half of his food, “Feeling sick again?”

“A little, yeah.”

His friend frowns, “Your head alright? Need me to bring you anything?”

“Nah, it’s fine” well, not really, but it is still bearable, so Genma just sighs and stands up, “I’m going to ask for this to be to go.” He says, grabbing the bowl, but a hand grabs at his arm and the food is snatched out from him.

“Wait—Shisui!”

“Just sit down, man. I’ll be right back!” and the curly haired guy goes to the front, leaving Genma with nothing to do and too much time to… think.

He hasn’t really done it on purpose, but somehow, someway, he just… hovers. Around the people he knew. People who had shed blood for the same cause, who had watched his back and took up a blade for him, fought in his defense, and—

Who don’t know him, apparently.

And maybe he can save himself the pain; the weird, phantom ache he feels over seeing familiar faces looking past him. He can ignore them, act like he doesn’t remember himself.

Except, he can’t really do that, and this one moment is a proof of it.

Looking to the front and seeing the curly mop of black, Genma frowns. He has never been close with Uchiha Shisui. Not now, not even before, and seeing the dark-eyed teen feels so much like facing the dead that he steers clear of the boy even after knowing they end up in the same class.

…The Uchiha has another idea, though.

“You rarely leave class lately” Shisui says after he brings back Genma’s wrapped up food, “Sensei said you’ve been skipping class to go to the infirmary. Are you feeling better now?”

Genma supposes that kind of thing is normal to go around, especially in a place like school, so he just shrugs, “Yeah.”

“Well, that’s good!” Shisui says, picking up his utensil, whistling softly under his breath, and Genma doesn’t know why the guy looks so relieved.

…wait.

Does he—

“Konoha” Genma says, low and a little stumbling in the words, and sees Shisui raising his brows and tilting his head.

“Hm?”

“Do you… remember?”

Shisui munches on his food, swallows, “Remember what? Ko—what did you just say again?”

…oh.

“Nothing” Genma quickly says, slumping back into the seat, “Nothing important.”

He’s getting pretty used to lying these days.

༄ ༄ ༄

“…Okay, I’m starting to regret this.”

Genma stares at the blinding orb in front of them which obviously is on the verge of exploding, the chakra around it crackling in a way some jutsu go haywire, and he braves a glance at his friend.

“Are you really not gonna go back, Raidō?”

Because even the air feels heavy and Genma doesn’t know if the dots in his vision are because of the damning light or something else.

Raidō shoots him a look, “Don’t you quit now.”

Genma smiles, almost manic, and finally moves his hand again to continue writing the words and symbols for a seal, “For Konoha?” the orb cracks, just a hairline, but it sends a wave of wind and chakra that sends them back a couple feet despite grounding their heels to the ground. Genma lets go of his senbon and tries to step forward to continue, “Never.”

༄ ༄ ༄

The first time Shisui asks him if he wants to meet his baby cousins, Genma spends the total of two seconds to remember who said cousins are before shaking his head so fast Shisui looks concerned.

“Uh, I” Genma tries to look for an excuse, “Already have an appointment, sorry.” Honestly, he feels like he is going to turn to Kakashi’s lame excuses sooner or later.

Shisui raises a brow but says nothing, before waving a hand, saying he should next time, and going back home. Genma looks at the retreating back before sighing.

It’s not that he doesn’t like the chances of meeting someone who remembers, but…

Uchiha Itachi. Thinking about that name alone makes him remember the darkest, messed up part of the village he has fought for, and that’s not to mention the younger brother who for all the respect Genma has for the kid’s ability, has a personality that is too much for Genma to handle.

…And he doesn’t even know what he would do if they, in fact, don’t remember.

Genma has met a lot of people who do, whether it’s the chūnin usually in charge of the mission assignment desk, an academy teacher, a veteran, or even rogue ninjas from another village.

And it’s been… nice, he thinks. He keeps all of their contacts and even though he has no intention to regrow any kind of previous relationship, it’s good to know he has a means to… connect, in a way, with before.

He doesn’t know he would feel the weird, almost painful feeling of something unraveling in his chest, though, when his shoulder is tapped from behind, one night on the subway station, and he turns around and sees a dark-haired, dark-eyed someone who is looking up at him with the same thinly veiled awe.

“…Hayate” he murmurs, a little stunned, and almost slaps a hand to his mouth because he isn’t supposed to know, but then the guy smiles, a fist covering his mouth in a gesture Genma was—is still—familiar with, and says, “I was going to ask for direction if you didn’t remember.”

And he chuckles, soft and light, a little different from before but somehow feels just as right, and Genma can’t help but laugh, too.

And they eat dinner together after that, both of them dropping whatever business they were going to do, and Genma feels like he can pretend to be back home.

“So you’ve met Yūgao?” Genma says, brows wiggling, and feels great satisfaction at seeing Hayate turning to darker shades of red.

“…Yeah” the answer is murmured, almost garbled from the tea Hayate is sipping while talking, and Genma snickers.

“So are you preparing to propose or what?” He knows they’re just going to be high schoolers in two months, but actual age aside, Genma is willing to bet that Hayate has always wanted to—

“She doesn’t remember.”

Genma stills. Stares. What.

“…What?”

“She doesn’t remember” Hayate says again, no firmer or softer than before, and puts down his cup, eyes somewhere on the wall, “We first met before I even started to remember, and when I did, I…” he looks embarrassed even as he continues, hands fiddling with the rim of the cup, “I tried to talk to her more. And we’re… friends, now.”

Well, that’s… it doesn’t sound too promising, if Genma is honest. But based on how Hayate is talking about it, he thinks Yūgao doesn’t currently have a boyfriend or anything of the sort, and by how red the raven’s ears are, Genma thinks there’s a little more than just being ‘friends’.

“Are you alright?” he blurts out. Hayate lightly coughs, eyebrow raised in silent question.

With her not remembering you, Genma wants to say, but he holds his tongue, taps the table once, “Your coughs. Is it better now?”

Hayate pauses and bobs his head, “Some medicine helps.”

Genma nods, satisfied that he at least doesn’t need to worry about his friend coughing blood or anything anymore.

When the clock nears 10 pm, they bid each other farewell, but not before exchanging contacts and promising to meet each other again sometime.

As Genma walks to the station, hands in his pockets and head held a little higher, he thinks that, maybe, reforging old camaraderie isn’t going to be so bad, after all.

༄ ༄ ༄

“Wonder if the Hokage is going to cry for us,” it’s more of a distraction than anything, when Genma mutters the words, the last of the symbols finally drawn on the ground.

“Who knows” Raidō answers, also a murmur, as he tilts his head at his own handiwork and nods to himself, “…he does spend an extra half hour in front of the stone after Asuma died, though.”

Ah.

Genma takes out a sealing paper from his pouch. Now, all they need to do is draw the necessary symbols on it, put some of their blood, channel their chakra to the thing and by whatever means stick it to the steadily growing orb in front of them.

“Good enough, I guess” he says, and it’s not completely about the paper.

When the seal is finally done, Genma holds it in front of him and barely manages to defend himself as another shockwave bursts, parts of his skin peeling off his exposed limbs and face, and he can feel his body getting heavier, forced and pushed to the ground wall behind them. A glance to his right and he sees Raidō looking right back at him with the kind of determination that’s impossible not to make him grin.

They’ve been given a mission. And while it’s not exactly as said in the scrolls, they don’t have many shinobi able to perform restraining seals on site, and in Konoha or not, missions are missions, and they’re not about to fail their Hokage now.

༄ ༄ ༄

First year of highschool lets him meet another person.

A loud, nosy, and plain troublesome person.

“Oh!! If it isn’t Shiranui!!”

The moment he recognizes the voice, Genma prepares to fastwalk away but a hand roughly turns him around.

“Hey! You deaf or something??”

…Genma would really love to talk to her. Really, he does. But not now, just seconds after the school opening ceremony, in front of the hundreds of their year all looking and staring at them.

Not that he has much of a choice.

“Hey, Anko” he says, not even trying to hide the defeated tone, and slowly pops a candy into his mouth, “Nice to see you again.”

Said girl grins, eyes squinting in what others would call scary, but her smile is genuine and she pats his upper arm a couple times.

“Good to know I don’t have to beat you up!”

…yeah, still scary, maybe.

“Please don’t tell me you just beat people up for not remembering” Genma mutters as they walk into the building and along the hallway, apprehension mounting as they keep walking to the same direction.

“Nah, of course not. I kick them where it doesn’t shine, sometimes.”

…Genma wonders why he expected something different.

And they don’t—much to his relief—belong to the same class, but it’s close enough that he’s sure she would drag him along when she wants to.

“Welp, see you later” she says, a gum in his mouth, hand already reaching out for the door handle “Give me a call when you go meet Raidō!”

Genma pauses in his steps, opens his mouth, “I haven’t met him.”

Anko pauses in his movements, stares, “Huh” and she looks… angry? “You were always together, though” she points out, which was true. “Thought you would look for him the first thing.”

He did, yeah. Searched for Raidō’s name or any possible alias the first time he remembered the red-roofed building with a single swing on the side. Stopped people on their tracks—however vague he remembered their faces—to ask around, but…

“Huh?”, people had said, eyes blank and confused, “I’m sorry, who are y—"

“I haven’t” he reiterates, a little biting than he intends, and Anko frowns, as if that’s too hard to understand.

“Not even Gai?”

“…No”

And that’s that. Genma smiles, gives a two-finger salute they used to throw at each other, and gets into his class.

༄ ༄ ༄

“You know, that thing we talked about when we were kids.”

Raidō glares at him, but really, he can barely feel his limbs at this point and if he doesn’t have anything to distract himself from the pain he might as well explode before the orb does. “About where to live besides Konoha.”

There’s a faint recognition in Raidō’s eyes, and they take another step, almost there, and says, “Yeah” a beat “You said you wouldn’t want to live in Suna because there’s only sand or something”.

Genma grins. So his friend does remember, “Yeah, that one.” Another step. Blood on their ruined uniform. Raidō’s headband finally gives way and is thrown to the back, joining Genma’s somewhere, “I think about that, sometimes.”

“Please don’t tell me you actually consider living in the sacred lands of Kumo” Raidō’s voice is exasperated, but his eyes shine and there’s only a little distance left— “I would hate to have to go on a search party just to bring an idiot back.”

Genma chuckles, sound half-muted by the whirling chakra in front of them, “You put the idea in my head, so take responsibility.”

They reach the thing, and if they don’t want their effort to be all in vain, they have to do it now.

“Anyway, I think I have my answer,” Genma claims, reaching out the seal paper in a mirroring movement of his friend’s.

It’s time to go.

༄ ༄ ༄

“How was it?? I was great, right??”

Anko’s smile is so wide and evil Genma can only laugh.

“You did three fouls, Anko” Shisui says, adjusting his bag and walking alongside them.

“Not on purpose!”

“The referee seemed to disagree.”

Anko hisses at the pointed fact, saying things like she didn’t even swing her arm that hard, and Genma pays half an attention as he turns on his phone to look for a place to eat. Now that they are out of town, might as well try a good local place. He could add it to his and Hayate’s combined list—

A soft thump. Steps.

Huh.

Genma quickly grabs a brown leather wallet from the pavement and jogs up. He pats a person’s arm.

“Hey, you dropped this—”

A turn of the head. Dark eyes, brown hair, a birthmark on the face—

“—Oh!”

a birthmark.

“Ah, sorry, my bag is opened—” a rustle, fast zing of a zipper, hand reaching out, “thank you - huh?”

Genma stares, enough to know, to realize, and wills his hand not to tremble. He gives the wallet back and doesn’t even care to listen to the rest of what the person says.

And he goes right home.

༄ ༄ ༄

Getting into high school, Shisui has been in a lot of chaotic scenes, which he thinks comes in the territory of being friends with a certain crazy purple-haired woman and being actually blood-related to people who he believes secretly enjoy chaos.

But he honestly doesn’t know what to do when Genma suddenly disappears in a crowd, and Anko comes right up to a person he doesn’t recognize, lifts her leg, and—

…And kicks the person right below.

Shisui winces hard as the group around the person lets out a hysteric, pained noise, no doubt feeling the emphatic phantom pain, and he zooms in on the victim.

The guy crouches down on the ground, writhing in pain, and Shisui doesn’t waste time grabbing Anko and shaking her, “What do you think you’re doing???”

“He deserves it!!”

And Shisui wants to hiss too. Wants to tell her to calm down for a bit and explain. To actually think first, say what’s wrong, and maybe Shisui can be the one to do the punching and kicking for her. But then he looks at her, hands still on her shoulders, and—

And he has never seen Anko cried before.

And she isn’t now. Not really, but…

“…Please calm down” he decides to say, inhales, and turns around to face the angry group that’s starting to yell at them.

Good thing he is used to being a peacemaker.

.

The incident is solved—more or less—without them being reported to the police or anything, so Shisui counts it as a win.

…Anko still doesn’t want to explain the true reason she did it, though, so that’s one problem. And another is Genma who also lied about why he just went straight home without telling them that day and is now apparently refusing to go to any of Anko’s basketball matches. And the worst? Anko—who he was sure would raise hell and force the brunette to come anyway—seems to somewhat understand.

Shisui doesn’t know what to do.

”Have you tried to have a serious talk with them?”

His baby cousin wisely asks, one day when Shisui comes to talk about his week and complain about things in general, and Shisui sighs.

“I have tried, but they just avoid the topic, talk about something else, or straight up ignore it.”

Itachi blinks, hands still petting a purring feline on his lap, “I think that’s all the more reason you should talk it out.”

Kinda rich coming from someone who prefers to bottle things up until he does something drastic, but Shisui can’t find the fault in the logic of the answer.

So he takes the advice and confronts his two friends, making sure to do it in a place where none of them can run away, and tries to speak gently.

“It’s nothing” Genma says in a huff for the umpteenth time, apparently already tired of the conversation.

“I don’t think so” Shishui argues, and he squints his eyes, “Anko cried.

“I didn’t!” she says, indignified, but Shisui knows what he saw so he ignores it.

Genma chews on his candy stick and sends Anko a look, “You really shouldn’t have done that, though.” It’s spoken in a weirdly hushed tone, one that Shisui’s two friends sometimes use to each other—mostly in a kind of inside joke way—but Shisui doesn’t hate it less this time.

“He forgets us” Anko mutters, low and pouting, but her eyes shine a little brighter and Shisui tries to connect the dots, “He forgets you.

“He doesn’t have a choice” Genma points out.

“…I know” a pause, a clench of a fist, “I still hate it.”

…ookay. This is a little tougher than Shisui would have liked.

“Let me get this straight” he says, and he honestly hasn’t concluded about why, but the picture he gets is getting a little too uncomfortable, “So they guy didn’t deserve it?” He looks pointedly at Anko, “He didn’t do anything wrong?”

And that seems to be the case, because Anko doesn’t even put up more argument and Genma suddenly finds the tiles interesting. Shisui sighs, rubbing his temple, “We need to apologize.”

And the fire is back. Shisui braces for a brawl because he isn’t going to back down on this.

.

After a relatively embarrassing scuffle that leaves him with bluish spots and tiny scratches, Shisui is proud to have persuaded the two to actually say sorry to the stranger.

(He gets the impression that it’s not so much of a stranger, but the two refuses to speak of a name even when they seem to be aware just which school the guy goes to.)

And that’s how they land themselves in front of another school gates, waiting for a certain tall guy with a weird birthmark on his face. When Shisui spots him, he drags his two friends to approach the guy (Genma has complained that he didn’t do anything wrong, but he did leave Shisui to deal with the nightmarish aftermath alone so he has to come along now).

Anko glares murder but obediently says sorry, looking down as she does so, and the guy stares at them for a couple seconds before saying that it’s alright now that they’ve apologized. (He also not so subtly advises Anko not to do that again, which Shisui thinks is hilarious how Anko is pouting like a child.)

Shisui thinks his friends can learn even a quarter of maturity from the guy though, because damn, that takes a saint to just let something like that go, so Shisui smiles cheerfully and tries to lighten up the mood by talking about any topics he can think of.

It doesn’t last long, though, because the guy apparently has practice in half an hour, and he excuses himself.

But not before shooting a curious glance at Genma.

“Have I… met you somewhere?” he asks, and Genma doesn’t quite freeze, but his eyes widen and the hands on his sides twitch, “Oh, I mean, I know you’re the one who picked up my wallet, and thank you for that, but… before that, maybe?” the guy doesn’t look quite sure, a hand on the back of his neck, but his gaze eyeing Genma speaks puzzlement and confused recognition. Shisui turns his head to glance and his friend, and Genma is—

Is silent. Face the most blank Shisui has ever seen him, before a smile curls at the edges of his lips, “I had never seen you in my life before.”

For once, Shisui doesn’t know if his friend is lying or not.

༄ ༄ ༄

Genma knew. He has known, since that time he met Chōza-sensei—just the same as he remembers but face slightly younger without the hard lines crafted from fighting and war—and saw kind eyes slide past him. Has known since he met Ibiki and greeted only to get half a sentence grunt of nonchalant ignorance. Met Shisui who looks so much brighter than Genma remembers ever seeing the Uchiha before.

He knows it’s going to hurt, and maybe he is weak for avoiding it, but…

But he doesn’t know if he can take it.

Meeting Hayate and Anko, despite being something like a blessing, also feels… wrong. Like it’s not enough. Like there is still something missing that he actually knows what but isn’t sure whether it would make him more miserable or not.

(“I saw you at the entrance ceremony, do you want to pair up for the assignment? Name’s Raidō”)

Genma lunges forward, feels his fist hitting the punching bag, and vaguely thinks that it’s telling, maybe, that he can kind of see a wooden post standing in front of him.

(“Let’s eat together.”)

A kick, step and slide back, repeat.

 

(“Think we can survive this?”)

 

The last punch is more emotion than anything, and Genma can feel the rattling throb all the way to his bones, the bag swaying around.

“God-fucking-damn” he mutters, trying to catch his breath, hands on his knees, “Sage—fuck” he presses the base of his palms to his eyes, murmuring all curse words he knows for a while, and crouches down.

 

“Have I met you somewhere?”

 

Genma thinks it would be much better if he hadn’t.

.

After a full week of being frustrated and actually running his punching bag broken, Genma has had enough of his own pathetic self and decides that it’s time to suck it all up and walk it off.

Besides, he has continued to talk to Chōza-sensei, and Ibiki sometimes, and even Shizune. One more person wouldn’t hurt, and he is kind of used to pushing his feelings aside to enjoy the moment, anyway.

…Not that he is prepared to get tackled from behind right in the middle of the street.

“Genma! My Friend!!”

Genma blanks out for a second as a hand roughly heaves him up from the dirt, and thinks that it would take more than two lifetimes for him to forget the voice.

“…Gai” he murmurs, almost hoarse, letting himself be embraced in that too-tight hug Gai always gives. And as Genma sees a smiling, smoking figure not far behind Gai, he reaches out and loosely hugs back, hands twitching and eyes stinging in a way it hasn’t in years.

And for the first time since he was twelve, Genma feels a little like he’s home.

.

They have a sleepover.

Genma wanders out a lot so his parents don’t say anything as he calls ad tells them that he’s staying at a friend’s house, and while they consider staying at Asuma’s, they decide to go over to Gai’s instead.

And there’s a hot, coiling feel in his stomach as he sees the face of someone whom he owed his previous life to, but at the wide, sparkling grin on Gai’s face, Genma smiles and introduces himself.

Dai-san hasn’t changed. Still loud and weird and wholefully nice. And Genma doesn’t even mind eating the nutrition-oriented dishes and even finishes the disgusting something juice that looks far too green for his comfort.

He and Asuma and Gai talk a lot after that. And by a lot, it means all the way till dawn, and they get only a couple hours of sleep before Dai-san can’t tolerate the tardiness anymore and haul them to the dining table and shove them around to take a shower.

And as if they’re back at the village, they go to train.

Even when not having chakra-enhanced limbs, Gai’s punches and kicks are as mean as ever, and the guy hurriedly apologize after he hits a little too hard and Genma is thrown back, once, and thumps his back on the wall of the training room.

“It’s fine” Genma brushes it off, and at the light, clearing feel in his mind, adds, “I think I’ve been needing a good spar, actually.”

And as they continue, Genma feels the rest of his heavy something slides down his body, eyes unblinking and mind crystal clear, and even after the three of them lay on the floor, huffing and wheezing, he can’t stop smiling.

Nearing noon, he declines lunch and goes out instead, promising to come by again sometime.

He has a friend to visit.

༄ ༄ ༄

Asuma is a meddling little shit, Genma finally remembers, because when the tanned guy finds out Genma is going to find Raidō, the Sarutobi casually gives him an address and a string of numbers instead. Genma shoots him a squinted, disbelieving look but the guy just shrugs, a smile on his face.

“Say hi to him for me.”

And that’s how Genma finds himself on an unfamiliar porch, a hand hovering around a wooden door, wondering just when he became so impulsive he thinks coming to someone’s house without prior appointment is a good idea.

He might not even be home, he thinks, and before his mind can persuade him to go back, knocks on the door.

It’s after he knocks twice that there’s a sound of falling footsteps from inside, and the muffled voice calling to wait makes him pause.

Maybe it’s still not too late to turn around—

Click

“Who is—oh”

Raidō is there, in a plain t-shirt and baggy pants, a hand on the door handle and looking down at Genma with raised eyebrows.

“You’re—"

“It’s Genma” Genma says, trying not to bite down on his stick too hard, “Shiranui Genma. A friend of the crazy lady who kicked you in the balls?”

There’s something weird he feels when he sees Raidō snort.

“Name’s Raidō” Raidō says, pushing the door a little wider, “So” he glances around for a second, “What brings you here? I don’t have a problem with your friend anymore, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Genma has always known Raidō is much too forgiving for his own good, but maybe it’s a good thing that he is taking it lightly. That means the kick didn’t cause a… permanent damage or something.

“Nah” Genma says, shoving his hands into his pocket, and after doing a very quick mental calculation and assumptions based on what he knows about Asuma, says “Asuma told me to say hi.”

As he has half-expected, Raidō’s eyes widen, surprise in the orbs, “Asuma—so you’re really… uh, one of…” he trails off, and Genma knows why he can’t find the word. With a crooked smile, he asks, “Can I come inside?”

Raidō stares for a second and nods, letting Genma in and closing the door behind them, and he leads Genma to the sofa before promptly disappearing to the hallway.

Making himself at least semi-comfortable, Genma looks around the room. There are some simple decorations and pictures on the walls, and he snickers to see one of a pouting toddler Raidō. He remembers some things from academy days, but he can’t find a moment when the Namiashi would look so… adorably childish. If anything, he was already an old man even at the age of—

Tak

Genma blinks as a glass of orange juice is placed in front of him.

”Make yourself at home” Raidō says, out of politeness than anything, and takes a seat across Genma, himself holding a glass.

Genma puts away his stick, takes a long sip of the beverage, places it down, and talks.

About the weather, school, basketball. Even a little about his family. Raidō listens with apt attention but seems to look more and more confused as time goes by.

It’s when Genma is sharing about one of the most hilarious experiences of his travels when Raidō takes a chance to speak in between the lull, “Why are you really here?”

And that’s fair, Genma guesses. Though maybe he should have thought more about that in the first place, because there’s no way that he can just say the truth—

“To talk with you, duh.”

…well, fuck it, he guesses.

Sighing, Genma pulls off the cloth tied on his head, fiddling with it in his hands.

He hasn’t changed his appearance much from the way he remembers before. Has made sure to always wear a bandana the way he did, and has something slightly resembling a senbon in his mouth. Because other than the fact that it makes him feel more like in his own skin, he also has hoped that… that maybe his friends would spot him easier in crowds. That anyone else who remembers would find and see him. And more importantly, that his friends would—

Eyes sliding past him. Guarded faces. Words—

 

“Do I know you?”

 

Genma doesn’t realize how hard he is pulling on the cloth before he hears the stitching rips, just a little on the edge, and he wills his hands to loosen.

Focus, now, he tries to coach himself, Raidō is looking at you like you’re insane. Don’t give him any more reason to kick you out.

So with a deep inhale, Genma raises his head and smiles.

Raidō flinches back, though, so maybe he doesn’t quite succeed on that.

“I was your friend, yeah” Genma says and almost wince at the past tense, “What did Asuma tell you?”

Raidō looks suspicious and a tad bit skeptical, but Genma knows that’s his default to anything he doesn’t understand so he keeps silent and waits.

“…Things about… Konoha, mostly” Genma can hear the way the name feels unfamiliar on the tongue, “And… shinobi? I don’t know. There’s also things about wars and Hokage and…” he seems hesitant before finishing, “…a Kurenai and a Genma.”

He stops there, looking unsure but weirdly expectant, and Genma can feel his fingers getting white from fisting around the cloth.

“…yeah?” he finally manages when it’s clear Raidō isn’t going to talk more, “Sounds like bullshit, huh?”

Raidō shrugs, slowly leans back and looks at a spot somewhere on the glass table, “I don’t know” his brows knit together, “Asuma looked… serious, though” he pauses, flicks his gaze to Genma “So do you.”

Genma doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just hums noncommittally.

There’s an urge to run. To go out and run and run until he collapses from exhaustion. Or to go to Gai’s house and follow whatever crazy training regime or ask for a spar or something. Because at this point, Genma is sure any physical exhaustion would be better than… whatever this is.

But before he can make action on his thoughts, Genma’s mouth moves on its own.

“We were partners” he doesn’t know how his voice sounds, but by the look on Raidō’s face, he guesses he’s actually able to keep it smooth somewhat, “Good at many things, I think, especially assassinations.”

Raidō recoils a bit at that and Genma makes a mental note to tone down the phrase… though he doubts killing or murder would sound more appealing.

And he talks again. More. Academy days, chūnin exam, the guard platoon. He leaves out many details—mostly the bloody and gore and plain depressing parts—but makes sure to tell the things he remembers the clearest, what he held onto in the times of war and endless fighting, and when he is done his throat feels too hoarse and dry and his hands are numb.

They’re silent for a while, Raidō apparently trying to process the mountain-load of ridiculous information, and Genma almost feels guilty if he isn’t already tackling with his own useless thoughts.

“…so” Raidō looks up at him when Genma speaks again, and normally Genma would laugh at the faintly stupid look the Namiashi is sporting—the same one he wears everytime he is thinking too hard about something—but he asks instead, “Does something—do you…?”

Genma doesn’t finish the question but it seems Raidō understands nonetheless.

And Genma thinks death would be better than to see the shake of the head.

The Shiranui stares, blinks rapidly, and runs a hand through his hair. He laughs once, sound choked out of him, and buries his head on his hands, elbow planted on the table.

“Ah—damn. I mean, I knew, and I didn’t expect much but holy—” his voice breaks, and he pauses for a second before raising his head, hands still on his eyes as he tilts his head up, “sorry, I’m just—really, it’s fine. Not everyone remembers, so it’s not your fault, just—”

He grunts, tries to continue but his voice is getting worse and his eyes sting and it’s far too embarrassing so he shuts up, murmuring a sorry once more, and he hears a clatter, footsteps, and after a minute he opens his eyes only to have Raidō nowhere to be seen.

…he has done it, now.

Of course. Who would feel comfortable with a stranger coming to their house and sprouting things that’s clearly a product of someone having a few screws loose? It’s just normal for Raidō wanting to not have anything to do with it. It might have been a mistake, coming here, and maybe Genma should just leave—

Footsteps. A small noise. Things dumped on the table.

…a lot of things.

Genma rubs his eyes once before looking at the now-messy table.

“…this...—?”

“Uh, sorry” Raidō slowly sits back down and scratches his cheek, “I don’t know what you like and, uh, you look like you’re… like you need something, so” he awkwardly points out at the assortment of things, some wrapped in plastic and some in containers “these are what we have in the house. Feel free to have some.”

Genma just… stares. At the food. At the person who was once a dear friend, and—

“You look upset.” a concerned, hesitant voice had said a lifetime ago, a big plastic bag in hand.

“I bought these” a few months after that, when it’s known that Genma liked salty foods but preferred sweets when he’s in an awful mood.

“Here” even years later, the night after the Kyūbi attack, after they were kicked out of the Hokage tower to get some sleep, still restless and antsy and it felt like everything couldn’t go anymore wrong—

And now. Here. In a strange, peaceful world where chakra is something of a myth, and there’s no Hokage, no Konoha, and even without the memories, his friend is—

 

(“Together, then?”)

 

Raidō is here.

༄ ༄ ༄

At first, Raidō has half-planned to call the cops.

How could he not, when a guy—tall and scruffy and is smoking like he is out of school—sprouts things that Raidō can only guess is the fruit of stalking.

But then he starts talking about… odd things. The off-his-rocker kind of odd. But then some words feel familiar, hazy, clicking in his brain in a way that’s a little too small to fit but the exact same shape, and—

And the names. Asuma, Kurenai, Genma. He feels like he has heard those before, somewhere. And it might just be a different kind of déjà vu, something his brain unnecessarily knows because human bodies are a wonder in itself, but…

But he looks at Asuma, after the guy is apparently down talking, and sees nothing but sincere eyes.

…and with a weird kind of shine in it that makes Raidō want to go get some food for him and make everything seem a little better. But he refrains from the act, deciding to ask instead.

“So the reason you’re telling me all this is…?”

Asuma smiles, “Completely for my own personal interests” a pause, “...and to see if maybe you would, well…” a defeated sigh, “Nah, never mind.”

Raidō doesn’t comment on that, and does order some things he knows is generally liked by people. When the food comes, he offers—a little forcefully—half of each to the other teen.

Asuma looks at him, stares, and laughs. A loud laugh, something strong from his belly and tears in his eyes. And when he is done his eyes shine so bright Raidō is unsure what to think.

“I’m going to find Kurenai and the three of us can hang out together again” the Sarutobi says, popping a handful of french fries into his mouth, “Heard there’s this good escape room near Anko’s place. Let’s go there.”

It sounds like a promise, and Raidō just nods, filing away the new name to ask about later.

And then one day, after participating in an interschool basketball match and watching the girl’s one, he forgets to zip his bag, has his wallet drop to the ground,

And sees a man with a bandana tied backwards, a candy stick in his mouth and eyes wide in a shade Raidō swears is familiar.

And he also gets kicked from under. He doesn’t really remember what happens after that.

And now here he stands, halfway out the door, the bandana guy right on his porch. He doesn’t look comfortable, but then he introduces himself, mentions Asuma, and—

And kind of look like a confused, lost child. So Raidō warily lets him inside and tries to listen to what the guy has to say.

And that’s… well. Almost twice as many things as what Asuma has said. And more than twice as personal. He doesn’t know why the guy keeps talking even when it’s clear that it’s getting increasingly painful for him to do so.

Then again… partners.

They were partners, before—wherever and whenever it is—and maybe just like Asuma, this guy wants to make himself feel a little better by talking.

Except, he looks worse, avoiding eye contact and talking with many pauses, and it’s when he starts apologizing when Raidō can’t take it anymore and goes to finally get some food.

He doesn’t know this Genma. Doesn’t know beyond the face and the name, and they’ve only met a few months ago, but…

But Raidō finds he can’t quite ignore him. Feels something heavy and cold weighing down in his stomach at the other’s distress, at the start of the tears, and it somehow feels like he would start crying too.

When he dumps all humanly variations of food he can find in the house on the table, Genma has stared for a long while before excusing himself to the toilet.

Right when Raidō thinks it’s gotten a bit too long, the lanky teenager comes out, sits back on the sofa, and takes a bar of chocolate wafer.

Raidō is about to ask—because as much as he thinks it’s none of his business, he really feels like he needs to—but then Genma talks again, munching and smiling all the way, and there’s no more stiffness on the line of his shoulders, no shadows on the brown eyes, and his sentences are smooth and light despite the occasional faint breaking.

So Raidō holds his tongue, opens a bag of chips, and listens, back leaning on the headrest.

And what he listens to next is a bunch of things that makes him feel like he could, in fact, live in this place called Konoha.

.

They hang around a lot after that, sometimes with Asuma and Gai, and sometimes with Genma’s school friends Shisui and Anko. And by a lot, it means almost-everday a lot, his-school-buddies-are-starting-to-get-annoyed a lot, and breaking-into-each-other’s-places a lot.

Not that Raidō minds, though. He enjoys it, even, because not everyone is lucky enough to have friends who would fight for them. …Literally.

(The gang have stumbled onto the basketball court, once, yelling and screaming and glaring murder, when Raidō gets fouled pretty hard and is writhing in pain from an elbow to the chin. And it’s just by luck and the fact that they don’t belong to the same school that prevents Raidō’s team to be kicked out of the current or future games)

And Genma, in Raidō’s opinion, is someone he finds very easy to be friends with. He is casual, laid-back, but blunt and honest and a risk-taker enough that it balances Raidō’s own careful approach to things.

So when Genma comes over to his place one weekday, smile still intact but a little subdued than usual, Raidō grabs two puddings and asks what’s wrong.

“Nothing, just” the Shiranui takes a bite out of the food, “You remember what Gai said a couple days ago?”

Raidō digs in his mind and thinks it’s about that time Gai and Asuma met them with something in their eyes that could only be called grief, and informed them they had found a Kakashi.

“Yeah” he says, thinks again, and adds, “Did you—”

“I went to meet the guy, yeah” another mouthful, munch and swallow, “He really doesn’t remember. I mean, I knew from Gai, but still. Just felt like if anyone would remember, it’s him, you know?”

Raidō looks to the side, saying nothing as Genma takes the other pudding and starts to rip off the plastic lid, “He’s… Hokage, right? The sixth one?”

Genma nods. Raidō tries to replay all conversation he has had and the stories he knows, and vaguely remembers that the guy is someone he and Genma had died for and…

…Yeah. Having the guy forgetting all about it sounds like it sucks.

“…Maybe it’s a good thing, though” Genma says again, no more than a murmur, “He looks… better. I think. At least not like he’s carrying a burden the size of a village and two close friends’ lives in his hands anymore.”

…Raidō thinks Genma is saying that kind of thing a little too casually, but sure.

“We can ask him to hang out” Raidō points out, “Up to him if he wants to, though. But we can try” because if anything, it looks like Genma wants to.

The brunette grins around the spoon, “Yeah, well, Asuma and Gai are taking care of that part.”

Raidō grins back.

༄ ༄ ༄

 When Asuma sends him an invitation to a grand get-together, Genma feels a little skeptical.

Raidō doesn’t see anything wrong with it, though, so they go, right after class, to a certain restaurant that’s owned by a friend of Chōza-sensei’s.

 

(“Where would you live if it weren’t in Konoha?”)

 

Genma is pleased to see Kurenai—so that’s why Asuma chooses that day out of any to hold this. He has been waiting for her—and immediately shoves a confused Raidō to go say hi. He spots Kakashi, too, along with Rin—oh sage, it’s really Rin—and Obito, who look like they aren’t about to leave the Hatake’s side anytime soon. Anko—who has just punched Ebisu earlier that day—is also there, talking loudly while munching on a dango.

 

(“I think I have my answer”)

 

Genma can still see the confusion and hesitance in some pairs of eyes, like Ibiki who is sitting a little too rigid, or Shizune who fidgets with the hem of her shirt, or Kurenai who speaks much less than usual.

 

(“Kiri, Iwa, Kumo or Suna”)

 

But no one leaves early, either. Eating and chatting and just being a rowdy bunch that garners many pointed looks from other occupants of the place. Their laughs ring, echo, and it warms his limbs and something fuzzy takes place where grief once occupied in his stomach.

 

(“Just together would be nice”)

 

Genma smiles around his mouthful, seeing Gai being so very hyperactive that Ebisu has to hold him down and desperately ask him to lower his voice. Raidō looks amused and overall enjoying himself and Genma lets out a laugh at the stunt Anko pulls at Ibiki.

There’s no stoneface, no wooden buildings and no fights that bond and tie them with a bloody promise of camaraderie, but they’re there, together, and Genma has never felt so grateful to remember.

Notes:

Kakashi's story is in the first part of the series.

Kindly tell me what you think and have a nice day ^^