| [Sep. 20th, 2009|06:29 pm] |
Haruichi held still, let things seem to sway in whatever drunk undercurrent they'd been caught in for a moment, and then - abruptly as a cord being cut - the bitter thrum of the chakra Genma could sense racing through him vanished. All the anger and confusion and sense of failure unleashed by the sight of Hiro crept quietly back into the box he'd built inside himself for it, shepherded back by the sense behind Genma's scatter-shot words.
There wasn't a way to capture all the grief and guilt that went with their lot in life, but somehow Genma had just put a light over the most important thing to remember if they were to get clear of it. Even if only for the briefest times.
The women were always right.
Maybe he had failed in doing what he had to for the Hyuuga, but Hinaji hadn't. Maybe Genma hadn't been able to keep his family safe, but Yumiko would be satisfied that her brother was alive. Their situations had been hellish, but both of them had made sure something they loved survived.
Haruichi sighed thickly, glanced sidelong to Genma without turning his head, and managed an incredibly weak quirk of his lips.
"I'm sure my cousin would have something even more choice to call me," he murmured. "She always had the words to cut anyone down to size." |
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