Hm. Chouji requests. Okay, here's one: a face to face with that kid who said any team with chouji on it would lose, in the aftermath of Pein's invasion.
had to actually watch⌠some Naruto for this to like⌠see what ChĹji got up toâŚ. sorry in advance for anything i got wrong lmao
for once not exactly DoS compliant bc i donât know if youâve read it? everyone else who follows me will be alarmed and confused but yknow DoS is still in the timeskip so it would have been too much guesswork anyway.
did use some of SQâs details tho, like naming that kid Youbirin and probably some other stuff idk
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There had been streets. Alleyways. Parks and shops and training grounds and trash pickup and long shadows cast by eclectic architecture and itâs the silliest thing in the word, the most useless anxiety, but as Chouji slogs through the rubble â the mud and the dust and the wreckage of a whole village, the whole thing â he worries that the new village, when itâs built, will lose some of its Konoha-ness.
Will the buildings each look the same as the others? The same age, the same colors, the same timbers and siding and roofing? Will the streets be carefully planned, the alleys and balconies and courtyards arranged with aforethought? What if the kids have no good places to play ninja, with nooks to hide in and crannies to jump out of?
In particular Chouji thinks of this because the children will need places to play ninja, still, and he thinks about that play-pretend game from childhood because the medic coming towards him is Youbirin.
It had been Youbirin who had invited and then, ultimately, disinvited Chouji from the play-pretend games in the civilian neighborhood wedged between the Nara and Akimichi.
Chouji hasnât seen Youbirin since the Academy â clearly because Youbirin had gone into the medical program. Chouji wonders if that was his first choice or if heâd failed his jĹnin-senseiâs test⌠but that kind of thought is useless spite. Mean-spirited at a time when they really canât afford anything but solidarity.
Youbirin looks exhausted like Chouji feels. Not just tired but a little numb.
Literally numb, even, in some areas: Chouji is here because after hours of moving debris, one of his fellow chĹŤnin had noticed his hands bleeding sluggishly and sent him for medical attention. Chouji canât even remember the chĹŤninâs name. Sotatsu, who works Main Gate sometimes and lost an embarrassing amount of money in a card game with Ino? Michio, from the Mission Desk? It should matter but it kind of doesnât. Not at all.
Chouji holds his hands out. The palm of one is sliced open by rebar or something, from when he was using partial Multi-Size technique to grow his hands and arms big enough to hold up some of the larger pieces of rubble, letting his teammates dart in underneath and check for anything that could be scavenged or salvaged. Itâs a nasty cut, but he hadnât even noticed. His knuckles are rubbed raw.
Youbirin sighs, but doesnât say anything. His hands light up with medical chakra and Chouji can feel it tingle and prickle along the cut and his knuckles, cleaning the wound before his flesh folds itself back together. Good as new.
âDo you have any other injuries?â asks Youbirin. âWeâve been instructed to save our chakra, so weâre not doing standard diagnostic checks unless absolutely necessary.â
He says this in the professional tone youâd speak to a stranger, but Chouji knows that Youbirin recognizes him, just like he recognizes Youbirin. Theyâve both changed, but not very much. It feels like there should be more to say. A reconnection. A reconciliation. They are not strangers.
Youbirin had once gone out of his way to hurt Chouji, as publicly as possible. Youbirin had taken the game of ninja away from Chouji. That day, the sun bearing down on them and Youbirinâs scornful words⌠nothing in the village had looked the same once he was banned from the neighborhood games. Where, Chouji had wondered, might I be banned from next? And what was the real reason Youbirin had done it, since heâd sworn up and down the week before that Chouji played just fine, that it was just fun, that winning wasnât the point?
That had been Youbirin, you know, kind in private and scathing in public. Maybe thatâs still Youbirin.
âIâm good,â Chouji says. Chouji dredges up a smile. Not a good one, but itâs there, and he adds, âThanks, Youbirin. Take care of yourself.â
âAh,â Youbirin says, and now he looks⌠embarrassed. Shamefaced. âI was⌠I was hoping you wouldnâtâŚâ
âIt doesnât matter,â Chouji says, with a wave of his hand, like he could really brush aside their history.
Youbirin is quiet, but unsettled. Chouji doesnât want Sakura (or possibly Tsunade-sama) accusing him of sabotaging the medics if it leaves Youbirin so off-kilter, so it seems like he does have to say something.
Chouji says. âThis feels like a good time to reflect, because everything is awful, but itâs better to worry about the future.â He keeps his voice low so that maybe no one else will hear. Not because he minds, but because he thinks Youbirin might.
And maybe Chouji is thinking about about what Kakashi-sensei had snapped at him just before the Deva Path had revealed itself to still be functional: Save the crying for later! heâd said. Reflect later!
But Youbirin doesnât need the context. The blood on Kakashi-senseiâs face. Dad unmoving. The horrible clanking and squishing of the Deva Path coming back together from Kakashi-senseiâs Raikiri. The long recovery Dad is facing. Thatâs on Choujiâs mind, the incredible pressure of that moment and everything that followed afterwards, but Youbirin doesnât need to know. Couldnât possibly understand, because he isnât even a field medic.
âI see,â says Youbirin. He nods. âYou take care of yourself, too, Chouji.â
âWeâll take care of each other,â Chouji says, and leaves.
He puts Youbirin out of his mind the moment he steps outside and throws himself into his little worries, building the possible details of the new Konoha theyâll build up in his mind while he deals with whatâs left of the old one. Shikamaru and his dad will work out all the big worries, anyway.
