The first day was quiet.

Takuma arrived at Maruboshi's house around six and was tucked into a futon by seven after a shower and the re-application of his bandages. The next day, Maruboshi opted to take a break from his usual day-to-day to look after Takuma and waited for him to wake up, but noon passed, and he stayed asleep. Maruboshi didn't disturb his sleep, and when Takuma finally woke up, it was already four in the afternoon.

He had slept for a total of 21 hours without waking up.

Maruboshi served him food and sat at the table with him while he ate—not that he ate much, if anything. Takuma mostly picked at his food, pulling the meat off the fish bones but rarely ever bringing it to his mouth. His head slumped to the side, and he had a hollow, glossed-over look in his eyes that worried Maruboshi, but he didn't say anything.

Not yet.

After fifteen minutes of silence, Takuma finally spoke. "Sensei... I-I'm sorry for showing up here like that," he sniffled, "I don't know what came over me; I just..."

"It's okay," Maruboshi said with a comforting smile. "I'm glad that you came to me."

Takuma nodded with his eyes closed. His face twitched with emotion as they threatened to overflow, and he quickly hid them by raising his head to the ceiling and leaning back into his chair.

He calmed down soon, bowed his head, and returned to poking at the food.

"I promise I was fine when I entered the city. I was hap—happy, but I-I don't know what happened." Takuma closed his eyes. "Everything looked so... different. Out there, I-I...I..."

"It's okay," Maruboshi repeated, "we don't need to talk about it right now." He sensed that Takuma was struggling to articulate himself. "I'll be here when you're ready, so take your time. As I said, you can stay here as long as you want."

Takuma nodded and breathed out, relieving the tension in his stiff shoulder. He looked down at the food in front of him and set down his bowl of rice and chopsticks.

"I don't have an appetite," he said.

Maruboshi wanted him to eat but nodded understandingly. Takuma stood up, bowed to him, and then retired back to his room.

He didn't emerge for the rest of the day.

———

.

The second day was silent.

Takuma seemed worse than the day before. He never left his room despite Maruboshi's pleas to eat something, even when Maruboshi left food at his door.

The only thing he touched was the bottle of water.

When Maruboshi went to replace the empty bottles, he heard the faint sounds of sobbing beyond the door. It wrenched his heart, but he knew it wasn't time for him to interrupt.

Takuma needed to be ready to talk before he could be there to listen and support him. What he needed right now was normality, and Maruboshi was ready to provide it the moment he put himself together just enough to receive help.

———

.

The third day finally saw some progress.

Maruboshi rose up early at sunrise and wasn't expecting Takuma to wake up until later, but he was surprised to see him step out of his room just as he was about to sit down for breakfast. He was in the kitchen setting his food on a tray to take it into the living room when he heard footsteps and looked up to see Takuma appear at the doorway.

"Good morning," said Maruboshi with a smile.

"Morning," Takuma replied, looking bleary. His hair was a mess and there were tear streaks on his face that he didn't seem to notice.

"I'm setting up breakfast, so go wash up," said Maruboshi, gently nudging him to do something instead of asking him if he wanted to eat because he felt Takuma might refuse. "You'll find a fresh set of toiletries in a basket inside the washroom. Come back quickly; the food will get cold."

Takuma nodded with a hum and went to the washroom at the speed of a sloth.

Maruboshi waited until he heard the washroom door close and then moved quickly to set up another serving for Takuma. He set everything up on the floor table in the living room and then sat down to wait for Takuma when he noticed the two meals looked similar.

He realised his mistake and went back to the kitchen with Takuma's meal, doubling the quantity, not only because he hadn't eaten in nearly two days but also because Takuma was a youngster with a naturally heavier appetite than an old man like himself.

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Takuma returned with a wet towel around his shoulders. His face was now clean, but the look of sad apathy remained as he sat down.

"Dig in," said Maruboshi. He stopped himself from looking at Takuma so as not to make him feel self-conscious.

Takuma lethargically picked up his bowl of rice and chopsticks and ate slowly, taking small bites at first. As he ate, the bites became bigger, and his hands moved faster. For the first time since he had arrived, Takuma looked alive as he scarfed down his food.

By the time Maruboshi had made a quarter of his way through his smaller meal, Takuma had wiped all of his clean.

"Do you want more?" asked Maruboshi with a smile.

Takuma sniffled and shook his head repeatedly as emotions threatened to overflow once again. "I couldn't cook or go out to eat food because it might've attracted suspicion. I ate the same MREs for two months; they weren't good."

Maruboshi knew that Takuma was going on a long mission because his last letter had said that he wouldn't be able to write for a while. He didn't know the details, but from context, it seemed that Takuma was behind enemy lines and had to survive off ready-to-eat meals made for shinobi.

"We ate at inns and restaurants on our way back, but homemade food is different," Takuma said, sniffling, as he raised his bowl of miso soup to his face. "Thank you."

This was a good sign, Maruboshi thought as he nodded. Takuma had opened up on his own without any nudging from him. He considered it good progress for now and decided not to pry. But the meal was over, and he thought that Takuma might shut himself back into his room, so he nudged him to stay in the living room.

"The weather is great today. I'll open these doors up, and you can enjoy the breeze." Maruboshi went to push the sliding doors that opened up to the green garden that had an old persimmon tree, a tomato patch, and a flower bed. On the weekends, he would often sit on the engawa to meditate and gaze at his garden to relax, and he thought it would do Takuma some good.

To his delight, Takuma didn't go back to his room and settled at the edge of the living room. Even though he blankly stared into nothingness, it was better than being in the dark behind closed doors. Maruboshi barely sat inside Takuma's peripheral vision so that he was aware of his presence in case he wanted to talk.

That day, Takuma sat unmoving in the same spot and returned to his room after dinner without saying another word throughout the entire day.

———

.

On the fourth day, Takuma started the day by taking a bath. He still looked grim, and there was a deep misery in his eyes, but the quickness had returned to his body; the day before, he dragged his feet like a terminally ill person, but now he moved like a shinobi—balanced and light-footed.

In the afternoon, the student and teacher duo sat opposite each other in the living room with cups of tea before them. It was different from yesterday; Takuma hadn't looked at Maruboshi other than to briefly speak throughout the day—but today, they sat facing each other, and he felt that Takuma was ready to talk.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with my behaviour for the past few days," Takuma said as he held his teacup. "I don't know what came over me. I was overwhelmed by... everything." He sighed deeply. "I have been so up my ass that I've disturbed you and caused a ruckus. I'll start looking for a place to live from tomorrow and will be out of your hair as soon as possible."

"Take another week before you start looking. I like the company, and it gives us time to catch up," Maruboshi said and sipped his tea to let a silence separate the topics. "What happened out there, my child?"

Takuma scrunched his face and scratched his head. Maruboshi understood that the prospect of sharing brought pain because it involved reliving the darkest moments of one's life, even if it left one better off for it.

Sharing things helped, but said things often had thorns that would unearth old wounds in the process.

"Did I tell you about the girl?" asked Takuma.

"The little girl from the refugee camp?" Maruboshi recalled one of Takuma's later letters. During the early days, he had sent a letter mentioning an incident on his way to the camp without going into any details, but then, in one of the later letters, he discussed that incident about a refugee camp.

Takuma nodded. "When I tortured the Frost shinobi, I was furious beyond any time in my life. I had this cold rage thrashing through my veins—and I channelled it into the torture and interrogation—I hated those men from the bottom of my heart."

Maruboshi nodded. The sentiment had come through clearly from the letter.

"My mission was to infiltrate an enemy-occupied city and collect information to send back to the main forces. The team also had an additional responsibility to weaken the enemy from the inside to make the ensuing recapture easy."

Maruboshi nodded each time Takuma flicked his gaze up to see if he was still listening.

"These wealthy turncoat scums decided to throw a party, and a few shinobi were invited—there was a jonin and a few chunin, I think. I infiltrated that party as a dishwasher because it seemed like the perfect time to take those shinobi out and really," he stressed, "weaken the enemy." Takuma opened his mouth to speak, but a raw pain writhed across his expression. He closed his eyes and swayed back and forth for a few seconds. "During the party, I created a water clone with explosive tags inside it, and-and..."

Maruboshi wondered whether Takuma's intrusion was wise when he mentioned the jonin and his plan to weaken the enemy—but the moment he mentioned a water clone and explosive tags, a chilly thought flashed through his mind as he precisely understood what Takuma had done.

"... I sent that water clone in and had him blow himself up." Takuma cleared his throat. "It killed everyone. The jonin died, the chunin died, the genin died, the turncoats died... but the staff died as well." He paused, and all the nervous, twitchy energy went away, leaving him looking as weak as he was the day before. "I became the same as the people I hated... I knew what I was doing, and I still did it... I sacrificed those people to weaken the enemy and… murdered the people I was supposed to be saving."

His heart broke as he looked at Takuma. The child in front of him had done something terrible, and it had left him in a state worse than Maruboshi had seen in a long, long time.

"Oh, dear child... you're not the same as them. Look at you now; you're feeling such pain for what you did. This pain proves that you're different. Don't compare yourself to them."

"Anko said something similar about the pain," said Takuma, "but I still feel the same as them."

"Then you're doing yourself a disservice. It's a normal response to feel as you are, but do not let it bog you down. As shinobi, there are things we must do that our conscience vehemently disagrees with—but those things must be done. Learn from it and then rise better than you were yesterday. That's the only way for you to prevent such a thing from happening again," said Marubsohi, speaking as firmly as he could for his student's benefit.

He also saw that Takuma was sinking, so he immediately tried to change the subject.

"Where did you get that scar, Takuma?" Maruboshi pointed to the side of his own lip.

"Oh, this?" Takuma touched his scar. "A ROOT agent gave it to me."

His mouth almost fell open. "What?"

"A ROOT agent—and he was the same one who ordered my assassination."