| [Jan. 22nd, 2010|03:58 am] |
"The village wasn't wrong," Kakashi said numbly, but even he could hear the doubt behind the words. And he couldn't start thinking that, he couldn't -- there'd be nothing left to fight for.
He jerked his head sharply, cutting Sakumo away. Isn't it a shame. It was a great damn tragedy, but it had happened and it was over, and there was no wisdom to be found in the pity of dead nobles. Nothing he could take from there to strengthen the walls of his own loyalty.
Knowledge was what he wanted. Knowledge was a comfort and a help -- it was useful. Like learning Ryouma had a bed-kicking habit. Already Kakashi missed the man less.
And he didn't find it almost unspeakably funny that Ginta's grandmother had felt the urge to rush to Kakashi's defence, whilst calling him a deviant. Inconsistent, he'd snapped at her. He'd been right.
Ginta was watching him cautiously, expression somewhere on the line between worried and weary. Kakashi yanked his thoughts back into line; left his hands in Ginta's, for all the good they were doing.
"I know about my father," he said. "I know almost everything about my father, actually. But your grandmother -- she said she knew my mother..." He stopped, hesitating. The whole conversation was already too personal. But he'd never asked Minato, even when he'd had the chance. And he wouldn't ask Jiriaya, couldn't ask the Sandaime. Which left a grand total of no one.
Except Ginta, who probably knew nothing. But he wanted to be Kakashi's friend, and what the hell else did you use a friend for?
"I was wondering if she'd ever mentioned her to you?" he asked slowly. "Said what she was like, maybe." |
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