#witting

The summer wind howled on the warm dusk in Konoha, the ambience was calm, there was a particularly low activity this Sunday, the reason being  the conclusión of a festival the day before so now everyone was just in their homes, resting or just chilling and enjoying the calm of the 7th day. 

As the sun was soon to set, one individual gazed with a singular eye at the village, from a balcony. Days like these brought a certain feeling of nostalgia to the old man, for various reasons.

It reminded him of the days of the early Konoha, of how the silence after the war felt, of how noons after training were, the young days that now were nothing but a memory still on his mind after many, many years… 

How many people that back then were all around him, and now, it was just him, in silence, in this balcony watching what he, somehow, managed to maintain in the shadows, right at the back of… Hiruzen.

Warm hair caresses his skin, a soothing feeling not common for Danzo, being in the shadows was not just a metaphor, he almost never went out, or at least never in a casual manner or in a place that allowed him to just enjoy these little gestures from Nature. But he was also the shadow of Hiruzen, metaphorically. Always acting on his back, gnawing on his actions to have some sort of relevancy on the decisions made for the good of the village.

Hiruzen…

Dumb old ass, never was the brightness in terms of taking the most optimal routes to solve the village's problems… but certainly one charismatic man.

A young, playful, and fun boy, with a certain grace while fighting, made with a unique touch of well intentioned heart plus a grade of foolishness… that was Hiruzen, or at least the one Danzo remembers in his mind.

That was… Hiruzen

The uncovered eye closes as a deep sigh leaves Danzo's lugs. Hiruzen is no longer here, it has been like this for 3 years, yet he cannot take the sentiment out of his chest. His friend has been dead for 3 years and it still feels like it was just yesterday when he saw the grave for the first time… the only time since the ceremony.

The hand covered in bandages slides on the armrest, the head lowers. Was he really considering going? 

The thought of it made his heart bump on his chest, he was nervous about it though he didn't want to accept that. His exterior layers didn't want to go tho, but his core yearned to see the grave, to see his friend one more time…

—----------------------------

The sky was tinted red, with a few remaining yellow rays illuminating just the top of the trees, the tud of the cane muffled by the grass underneath mixed with the soft wind rustling the leaves. Danzo was slowly approaching the grave, his steps doubtful like never before, just a few more and the thing would be visible.

Naturally there was a good amount of flowers around the other graves, sundays are sundays, this is precisely the day when people come to visit their loved ones, leave them some flowers, saying some words. Danzo was not akin to these practices, he was not akin to visit the cemetery at all, yet here he was, with his hand shaking ever so slightly while holding the cane, as he was getting closer and closer, finally getting the view of the stone 

Suddenly, he stops.

He's not there but still several feet away… Hiruzen's grave was not alone, and the visitor was one that made Danzo's heart skip a beat.

It was like watching a Ghost from the past, Hiruzen's spiky hair flowing with the gentle wind, his soft young features, his gestures and mannerism… it was Hiruzen, but without being him.

It was Konohamaru, his grandchild. Who had an extremely cruel resemblance to the elder Sarutobi on the years of youth

Danzo couldn't help but step back out of pure emotional reaction. This encounter was bringing up feelings he tries so hard to not address from decades ago

Another step back

The young boy places a flower, although sadness is reflected on his eyes, there's a tint of peace that manifests by the gentle caress he lovingly leaves on the stone, the innocent smile followed by it, that then, he directs to the sky.

“I’ll never forget you, grandpa”

Air leaves Danzo's lugs, his legs trembling as he drags another step back. His heart painfully pounds his chest as the emotions turn too much for him to mask.

He leaves out of fear of being seen.

—------------------------------

Another empty bottle is placed on the ground, this being the last one after 3. Alcohol eases the feeling, but it doesn't fill the hole the big nail stuck on his chest left 3 years ago when Hiruzen died. For a man that has broken down so many young shinobies to not feel anything, the fact that he was now suffering from these emotions made him feel disgusting, he didn’t want to accept them, ever. But being reminded of Sarutobi’s legacy, and not only in a social sense, but in a personal, domestic family manner.

That hurt, that hurt so much. If only everything went in a different direction, maybe if Tobirama chose him instead of Hiruzen for being Hokage, if he used different words in between their several close interactions alone in the first war, if they didn’t differ in so many minimal things, Perhaps… Perhaps Hiruzen and him would have formed a life together, perhaps he would still being alive “ugh…” it hurts, it hurts so bad. He knows what this means yet he doesnt wanna let it out. His heart pounds hard on his chest and he only raises his arms to embrace himself, to lock it in. 

He lays back on his chair, letting out the slightest wince out of his mouth as his arms apply the pressure on his torso that soothed him. His head tilts lazily and he notices his vision doing funny spins, he really was wasted right now and he couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. 

The gaze falls on the window, it was night, it has been for hours. The winds brushed the trees next to his place, creating a calm rhythm that threw him back on his memories once more. 

Again, memories of young times, when everything was more simple, just the two of them surviving in the war, laying in the grass and looking at the sky, the moon shining bright in the middle of a starry night. Danzo remembers his silly giggles, reminding moments of action and close death, the adrenaline made them feel alive in that time and calm moments on the night were particularly special. Danzo was so close to Hiruzen he could feel his body heat, his hand next to his, so close yet so far far away. Another wince came out of his lips, his heart aching knowing that no matter how much he wanted to go back in time and change everything, Hiruzen was gone.

Now the moonlight brought nothing but pain, from a memory that ignites a feeling that claws from the inside of his chest wanting to go out, but he never lets go, and he wouldn’t allow himself to accept.

Physical pain gives him a good excuse for the tears, although deep inside he knows the tears come from something else. drop, drop, drop Sweat… more laments left his mouth as his writhing body leaves the chair. Still holding himself he gives a couple of steps, if he could just snap out of the feeling, he would forget everything and pretend this has no meaning, that pain is nothing to him and that he shouldn't worry about these mundane emotions, just focus on making the village a better place.

If he could only…

Just forget 

But he can't 

“AGH!” his knees meet the ground, his doomed affliction fueled by logging taking on more as he cries helplessly.

Hiruzen never knew this side of Danzo, he never let it be seen by him back in the first war days, in the back of the trees when the Sarutobi was minding his own bussines, the Shimura was revisiting times when, for one reason or another, Hiruzen touched his hand, or breathe near him, experimenting how the warm sensations on his body suddenly turned him into this thing that craved more of that closeness, how wanted that same hand to touch his chest, tenderly hold his face, how that giggling voice to say his name over and over again. What a whining and touch starved dog he really was. It was so shameful, it was so humiliating for a man like him.

The old man holds his head, what would have Hiruzen thought if he saw this?...

Nothing but disgust probably.

“Ahh..ahh…” his figure changed further, as he fought to keep it in with his dear life once more, but his body is old and it doesn't hold the same force and will that before.

And now he's suffering it in the rawest way

Hiding the truth is painful, it makes his body feel like a cage that's fighting to keep a growing monster locked. But the creature must only stick out its snout, its paws and its tail; when it wants to lay down, some patches of fur can stick out of the bars too. The creature must never be seen by anyone else, fed just enough to not let it die and most importantly… not giving it a name, even if it cried for acknowledgment.

If it's too loud it must be educated to shut up

If it doesn't want to eat anymore, it needs to be forced fed

If it bites, it needs to be punished…

Drip, drip, drip

Tears dropped on the ground, the old man retracted his changed hands to his body, his shivering frame reacting in disgust feeling how the fur felt in contact with the clothes, he covered his face, grimacing at himself, at his disgusting frame.

The outside was just a reflection of the inside he knew, but the inner monster must never be named.