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myaekingheart · 5 years ago

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88. Anshin no Naka

ねぇ次の瞬間に全てが終わるなら愛する人の顔を浮かべてどんな風に笑ってどんな風に泣いたか思い出す人でしょう [ If everything ends in the next moment, think of the person you love, How she laughed, how she cried, she’s the one you remember.] -Anshin no Naka, Kokia

Rei had never been a morning person. This fact was well-established and well-understood. On this particular morning, however, not only was she awake at sunrise but happily so. When her alarm rang, she did not hit snooze. Toshio licked her cheek and nudged her out of bed, following her to the kitchen as she poured herself a glass of water and picked apart an orange, the juice dripping down her chin and forearm. As she snacked, she tossed a handful of senbei crackers onto the ground for the dog and watched as he lapped them up happily. He had really taken to life with Rei in the past few weeks to the point where now they functioned in automatic tandem. Wherever she went, he was always sure to follow. She leaned down to scratch his head affectionately as she finished off the last orange wedge, then wiggled out of Kakashi’s shirt and tossed it onto the bed. She would have to return it soon—his scent was beginning to fade from the fabric. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to part with it just yet, though. Having it in her possession was comforting, even gratifying. A physical token that they were officially reunited, that they had laid claim to one another and were from this point onward inseparable.

Stepping into the shower, Rei turned the knob all the way to the left and let the water scorch her skin. She would need all the warmth she could get before venturing into the snow. She took her time standing there beneath the steady stream, massaging her scalp and lathering her body. She carefully considered the softness of her skin, the curve of her hips, the sinewy length of her arms and legs. Everything was a sensuous experience, a great appreciation of the mundane arts. Kakashi had brought color and zest back to her life. Until now, she had forgotten how viscerally beautiful the little things truly were.

Once clean, she tiptoed around the clutter and stood before the window in her towel as if to air dry for a moment. A thick blanket of snow covered the village, welling up inside of her a heartwarming nostalgia. Toshio lumbered up beside her to watch the snowfall, pressing his wet nose against the freezing glass. After a few moments, Rei propped open her dresser and slithered into a pair of long pants and a thick, oversized sweater—the kind with a slouchy turtleneck and thumb holes cut out of the sleeves. As she tied her hair up into the signature ponytail, her eyes landed on the kanzashi on her desk and she was overcome with a rising excitement. Grandma Teiko would be waiting.

The tradition began when she was three, watching the first snowfall from the engawa. She swung her legs back and forth without a single care, as if that moment was all that ever was and all that ever would be important. It was specifically the wonder in her eyes, Teiko claimed, that prompted her to tell Rei about the gyoza.

Hana had ushered her daughter inside, piloting her towards the fireplace in an attempt to thaw her rosy cheeks and hands. Rei had been completely oblivious to just how numb the snow had left her—she never had a very high tolerance for cold weather, and here she was nearly frostbitten. Chuckling, Grandma Teiko shuffled nearer and set down a platter of gyoza for her granddaughter. As they snacked together, with Rei wrapped in a fluffy blanket at the old woman’s feet, Teiko relayed the legend of the dumplings’ invention: a medic-nin once boiled meat and medicine in dumpling wrappers and used them to warm the ears of the poor. Rei laughed hysterically and fell backward, sticking the gyoza on her own ears and making faces. The mere thought of it was so ridiculous, she couldn’t manage to keep it together.

That afternoon served as one of Rei’s earliest memories. It proved so formative, even, that Rei insisted on turning it into tradition. And so every year, to commemorate the first snowfall, Rei would assist Grandma Teiko in making large batches of homemade gyoza. There was a beauty in the routine, in the togetherness of it. In the precision of pleating the edges of the dough, in the mundane anecdotes they would tell each other, and the raucous laughter when Rei inevitably fucked up. And while returning home now was coarse and uncertain, this was the one day of the year always guaranteed to remain untainted by quotidian conflicts.

A soft smile touched Rei’s lips as she fixed the kanzashi into the base of her ponytail, rightly assuming that Grandma Teiko would be flattered. Then she slipped on thick socks, boots, and her winter coat before patting her thigh, a signal for Toshio to follow, and the two of them ventured out into the world.

The market was nearly empty this early in the morning, with merchants just beginning to display their wares. Rei slipped into the butcher’s first and ordered a pound of ground pork fresh from the farm on the village outskirts, then purchased a head of cabbage, two green onions, and fresh ginger from the grocer. By the time she reached Kaminoki, the winter sun had fully awakened and was bathing everything in a cool glow. Rei skirted around the back, the shop still closed, and carted her purchases up the stairs.

“Morning, Grandma Teiko” Rei called, sighing as she set the crate down in the kitchen. When she received no answer, however, she began to fear the worst. The house was unusually quiet, but there was no way everyone was still asleep. If anything, she had at least expected her father to be awake—he was always up before sunrise going over finances. Squeezing the end of her sleeves, she chewed the inside of her cheek as she began searching for any signs of life. Toshio followed close behind, nose to the ground and paws scratching at the wood flooring. After a few moments, he began barking at the back door.

And then the door creaked open and Grandma Teiko hobbled inside, her gnarled cane tapping steadily against the floor. Rei whipped around, a startled gasp escaping her lips as her heart attempted to recover.

“Dammit, you scared the fuck out of me!” she shouted, smoothing her hair back and huffing.

Grandma Teiko chuckled and hobbled nearer, shaking her head. “What? Did you think I was dead?”

Rei grimaced. “That’s not funny.” She hated to admit that the thought had crossed her mind. Her parents were fairly easy to account for—if they weren’t here, there were plenty of other places they could be. Grocery shopping, perhaps, or even off to pick up a shipment for the store. Grandma Teiko, however, was far more concerning. As Rei looked upon her now, it struck her just how old she appeared: the deepening wrinkles in her face, the knotty muscles of her hands, the faintest imprint of her ribs and collarbone at her kimono’s neckline. Anything could happen, the hourglass nearing empty.

Despite her obvious aging, however, Grandma Teiko seemed completely unfazed by her own mortality. She clicked her tongue as she set a kettle on the stove and began unpacking Rei’s groceries, organizing everything on the counter. “You worry too much” she commented dismissively. “I was just escorting your parents to the village gates. They’ve got business in Ressha Junction and shouldn’t be back until sunset.”

Rei pursed her lips as she tried to contemplate what they could possibly be doing in a place like that. Ressha Junction was, for lack of a better term, a halfway town on the outskirts of Konoha. It was known mainly for the old train station built there between the second and third wars, as well as high crime rates. Rumor had it that many rogue shinobi set up camp in the abandoned apartment complexes littering the town, fighting for dominance and killing anyone who got in their way. It made traveling particularly dangerous—the only use anyone ever got out of the trains anymore were supply shipments that could not be delivered by couriers on foot. With the upcoming holidays, however, it made sense. Forcing a courier-nin to carry twice his weight in books was borderline abuse. Delivery by train was only logical, if not horrifically dangerous. “Do you think they’ll be alright?” Rei asked. “I mean, they’ll make it back okay, right?”

Grandma Teiko swatted the air as she turned and opened a cabinet far too high up for her to reach. “They’ll be fine” she insisted. “They’ve got a couple young shinobi escorting them. I trust they’ll keep your mother and father safe.”

Seeing the old woman struggle, Rei swooped in to take over the task. It wasn’t like she could reach it any easier—Grandma Teiko was barely taller than she was—but Rei was young and agile. She could just as easily climb onto the counter for added height. It was a much better alternative to Grandma Teiko breaking a bone. “I can’t imagine dad agreeing to something like that” she commented as she reached up and carefully pulled down two ceramic mixing bowls, one inside the other. She cradled them in her arms as she slowly slithered back down to the ground.

Grandma Teiko pouted as she took the bowls from her and set them on the counter. “I could’ve done that myself” she said. “I’m not a damn invalid, you know.”

Rei rolled her eyes as she tugged open a drawer and began gathering knives, cutting boards, and measuring cups. “I know” she said. When she ran out of hands, she resorted to carrying a rather large knife by the mouth, handle firmly between her teeth. “But just because you can doesn’t mean you should” she added through her homicidal grin.

Rolling her eyes, Grandma Teiko took the supplies from her granddaughter and scooped out two cups worth of flour. “Anyway” she continued, rather exasperated, “Your father really had no choice. Lady Hokage has recently declared Ressha Junction a no-go zone. But I’m sure you already knew that.” There was a twinkle in the old woman’s eye, both condescending and comical.

Deep down, Rei probably did know that but she was certain she had zoned out during the briefing in which it was announced. Every other day, it was the same thing over and over again. After a while, she had just learned what to expect. “So what did you think of the ninja assigned to escort them?” she then asked. Grandma Teiko always had interesting opinions on the local youth—not at all stuffy but rather dimensional and even amusing.

“There was a creepy little boy with dark glasses, I think he’s an Aburame” Teiko began. “I can always tell by the tone of their voices, so nasally and dull.”

“Ah, yeah” Rei laughed. “Because the bugs aren’t enough of a giveaway.”

Grandma Teiko shuddered. “I never liked that jutsu” she muttered. “The other two weren’t bad, though. There was another little boy who seems very intelligent, and a charming kunoichi.”

“I wonder if I know them” Rei snorted, finely chopping a head of cabbage. She said this jokingly, of course. She was familiar with the young ninja of the village only in terms of faces and clan affiliation. The only ones she knew personally were Kakashi’s kids, but two of the three were gone and she knew the other was studying in town. The kettle began to whistle.

Teiko hummed as she turned and removed the pot from the stove, pouring the boiling water directly into the bowl of flour. “Her name was Sakura Haruno, a cute little thing apparently training as a medic-nin” she explained. Steam rose up to cloud her face as she spoke, transforming her into a mysterious oracle. “She certainly seems to have a lot of potential if you ask me” Teiko continued.

Rei couldn’t help but laugh at the mention of a familiar name. She swept the cabbage into a mixing bowl before starting on the onions. “Turns out I do know her” she chuckled. When Grandma Teiko glanced at her, Rei explained, “She’s one of Kakashi’s students. She’s a sweet girl, but she needs to learn to mind her own business.” The memory of her and Naruto’s matchmaking endeavors rang in her mind, and she wondered how they would react now that her and Kakashi had finally reunited after all.

“She didn’t seem very interrogative to me” Teiko hummed as she stirred the flour with a wooden spoon. She glanced to Rei as she unpacked the meat and commented under her breath, “Roll your sleeves up, girl, or you’ll get sweater fuzz in the filling.”

Rei grimaced as she defiantly obeyed—there was nothing worse than being told to do something right before you were about to do it. She dumped all of the ground pork and green onions into a mixing bowl, then started mincing water chestnuts. “Maybe that’s because you didn’t have any information of value for her” Rei scoffed. She locked her eyes on her work as she further elaborated. “Besides, it’s not that she snoops for information to begin with. It’s more like…I don’t know, like she just inserts herself into situations that don’t concern her.”

“Oh?” Grandma Teiko arched a brow. “And what kinds of situations might these be?”

With reddening cheeks, Rei pursed her lips as she tried to think of the best way to answer. It had only been three days since her and Kakashi got back together, and she wasn’t certain how much information she was willing to give away. She felt as if she needed to tread lightly, as if their relationship was a skittish deer prone to disappearing into the brush should you advance too hastily. “You know…” she finally muttered, “Just things beyond her maturity level.”

“Like love” Teiko replied bluntly, thudding the ball of dough loudly onto the counter. She spread an extra layer of flour across the surface before she began kneading. “And here I thought there was no such thing as too young” she hummed, a hint of amusement in her voice. Rei knew she was mocking her. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she swept the water chestnuts into the bowl.

“Yeah, well this is different” Rei replied. She turned on her heels and began rummaging through the pantry. “It’s not the same when it’s stuff that doesn’t concern you” she continued. “She has no business sticking her nose in other people’s love lives.”

A slight, teasing smile touched Teiko’s lips. “And what about your love life is so worthy of interest, hmm?” she asked.

“Oh, god” Rei muttered, turning back toward the counter. She carried a bottle of soy sauce in one hand and beneath her opposite arm, a bottle of sherry. “Listen, my love life isn’t really anyone’s business but my own, you know? I don’t need anyone imposing their expectations on us or trying to interfere.” She measured out the soy sauce and poured it into the bowl.

Humming under her breath, Teiko replied, “And the us in question would be you and Kakashi, correct?”

Rei’s face turned bright red as she popped the lid off the bottle of sherry, fumbling for the appropriate measuring cup. “I mean, it’s not like there’s really anyone else I—you know…” she stammered. Her hand grew unsteady as she tried to measure the liquid. The last thing she needed was to spill the booze and ruin all of their work thus far.

Grandma Teiko loaded the dough back into the mixing bowl and covered it with a dish towel before setting it aside. She brushed clean her floury hands on her skirt as she asked, “Do I sense trouble between you two? Or just apprehension?”

Rei sighed as she poured the sherry into the mixing bowl. “I don’t know, it’s just…it’s just complicated.”

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think” Teiko replied. “You always have had a habit of overexaggerating.”

“That’s not true” Rei countered.

“Come on, girl. Spit it out!” Teiko urged. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Truthfully, Rei knew she could always be transparent and open with her grandmother. She just wasn’t entirely sure she could bring herself to say it, to will the words up out of her throat and into the open air. It all felt so trivial, or at least it did in the context of explaining it. She feared that once she laid it all out physically, it would seem like too much. Like she was making a bigger deal out of all of this than she really needed to. After all, isn’t this what she had wanted all along? To accept Kakashi back into her life, and accept that she was worthy of his love? To stay beside him for the rest of her days and know he would always be there? As far as she knew, anyway. There was the gratitude but also the immense fear. The harder you love something, the more it hurts when its inevitably ripped away from you. There was so much at stake.

Teiko clicked her tongue, snapping Rei from her daze. “Does he want you to quit your job or something?” she asked. She knew it was likely a long shot—Kakashi had always been supportive of her, if only in underhanded, distant ways. It was still worth asking, though.

“No” Rei shook her head, laughing incredulously. She would’ve been lying if she said she hadn’t feared he thought about it, though.

“He doesn’t sleep with his socks on, does he?” Teiko then asked.

Rei cocked a brow. “That’s an issue for people?” she asked.

Teiko shrugged. “More likely than you think.”

“Weird” Rei commented. She knocked back a swig of sherry.

Teiko cocked a brow and chuckled. “Is it the sex?”

All the color drained from Rei’s face as she choked on her drink, slamming her fist against her chest and coughing. “Oh, god, grandma!” she wheezed. Toshio picked his head up, ever alert and fully prepared to swoop in and save his companion.

“It’s a valid question!” Teiko raised her hands in surrender.

“No!” Rei shouted. “Why the fuck would it be that?”

Teiko made a face as if to say you never know, but followed up by commenting “I didn’t think Kakashi would be problematic in bed. You know what they say about bookworms and sex.”

Heaving a sigh, Rei spun around on her heel and jammed her forehead against the wall. “You’re killing me, grandma. Really, truly killing me” she whined.

“I’ll stop if you just tell me what the problem is!” she hummed, finishing off the gyoza filling.

“Can we just not talk about this right now?” Rei asked. Toshio scooted forward and began licking her hand affectionately. “I just…I’m not really in the mood to think about things right now.”

Any ordinary person would’ve granted Rei’s wish and backed off, but Teiko was not any ordinary person. She knew Rei far too well—she didn’t trust her to bottle everything up inside, or the coping mechanisms she might turn to instead. No, if Rei was not willing to share then she would just have to weed the information out of her. “I know exactly what the problem is” she said, with a knowing glimmer in her eye.

Rei cocked a brow, not totally convinced. “What…?” she asked.

“You’re infertile” Teiko said bluntly. With widening eyes, Rei’s hand immediately flew to her abdomen, her heart rate increasing. “Mmhmm. That’s what the whole problem is, isn’t it? I bet Kakashi wants fifteen babies, at least, but you’re less hospitable than Sunagakure.”

“Oh my god, fine! I’ll talk!” Rei groaned, throwing her head back and pressing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. Grandma Teiko watched her approach with a bemused expression as she set the gyoza filling in the fridge. The dough would have to rest for a half an hour and in the meantime, they could no longer avoid speaking the truth.

Toshio followed the two women into the living room where there, they slumped down in old armchairs bought for half price after the house burnt down. It had been over ten years and still they never felt truly like home. “Alright, girl, what seems to be the trouble?” Grandma Teiko asked, resting a veiny hand atop her granddaughter’s. “Lay it all out for me.”

“It’s really nothing” Rei sighed, draped across the seat despondently. Her arms hung limply on the arm rests and she had stretched her short legs out so that her toes reached the edge of the small, ratty carpet. “I guess I’m just kind of scared about what comes next, I don’t know. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. It’s just…now that Kakashi and I are back together, I feel like there’s…expectations. Like we’re not allowed to fuck around with this anymore, you know? We can’t afford to make any more mistakes, it’s like…it’s like we’re running out of time.”

“Time—ha!” Teiko laughed. “You’re starting to sound like an old woman. You’ve got all the time in the world. I wouldn’t fret about that one bit.”

“But do I, though?” Rei countered. “Do I really? I’m twenty-seven. That’s not far off from thirty. And once you hit thirty, everything is downhill from there. I can’t make anymore mistakes. I’ve already passed the point where the things I do in life really start to matter, where they really mean something. Where my actions have serious consequences.” Naru flickered in the back of her mind and a pang of pain struck her chest. She had to pause to take a deep breath, fight back tears, ball her fists up and will herself to remain strong. She could not let herself break, not even in front of Grandma Teiko. She was also running out of time to be weak. “I just…I can’t afford to lose anyone anymore. I can’t make these same mistakes and fuck up my life and his.”

And there was the meat of the situation. The concept of death, the fear of it and desperation to prevent it at all costs, constantly loomed over her head. An ever-present storm cloud blocking out every last inch of sun, tainting a happy scene with somber shades of gray. It followed her everywhere and destroyed everything, infiltrating every single thought in her mind. She even feared losing the woman sitting right across from her, perhaps more than many other things. Though still spry, she was evidently old and soon her time would run out, too. And then what? How could she ever live without Grandma Teiko’s wit and humor and comfort? She didn’t want to think about it.

And somehow Grandma Teiko knew exactly what was going through Rei’s head. She could see in her face that sense of internal combustion, her hazel eyes growing stormy. Pursing her lips, she sighed and leaned back in her chair. “You really do worry too much, girl” she shook her head. “I know you want to try to prevent death but sometimes it’s just not possible. We all have an expiration date. Sometimes certain people’s just come far sooner than others. We can’t stop that. I will bow out when it’s my time, but I don’t expect that to be for a long while. I’ve still got a lot of juice left in me!”

Rei smiled and shook her head with a halfhearted chuckle. If only that was as easy to believe. “I wish nobody had to go at all” she said quietly. “Why can’t we all just live forever?”

Grandma Teiko slowly stood up then and patted Rei on the head. “If we had unlimited time on this earth, then what meaning would it have? Life is made meaningful by virtue of the time limit. An immortal existence would just get dull.” Rei squinted up at her, chewing the inside of her cheek, the corner of her mouth tugging upwards. “Now come on” Grandma Teiko then said, motioning for her to get up. “Let’s finish those dumplings.”

Experienced hands divided the dough in half, then rolled it thin before punching holes into it. Rei collected the little discs and stacked them up on a ceramic plate, ensuring they didn’t stick together. Once Grandma Teiko had gotten some headway, she started loading a small dollop of filling into the center of each circle and then adhering them into little pockets. This had always been her favorite part—there was something so relaxing about the monotony of it. She dipped her index finger in water, dampened the edge of the circle, then began pleating. When she was younger, she admittedly was not very good at this. Grandma Teiko would chuckle and shake her head and tell her she always overloaded her dumplings and that her edges were never secure enough. Now, however, the old woman would watch her with pride. “You’re almost as good as my mother was” she’d always say.

“You never tell me about your mother” Rei commented as she worked. “What was she like? Did you two get along? Was she involved in dad’s life much? When did she die?” Sometimes the thought of not knowing her history made Rei anxious. Concepts of the past were always shooed away with a dismissive hand, deemed not worth talking about. But Rei always felt unresolved by it all. Deep down she felt desperate to know where she came from, to know just how deep the roots of her family tree reached and where the seed had been planted.

Teiko clucked her tongue and shook her head. “My mother was like everyone else” she said bluntly. “Caring but cautious. Wanted what was best for all of us. She died young. Wasn’t involved in your father’s life much. Last thing she was here for was my wedding.”

“To Grandpa Oku” Rei commented. She had never met the man, but she knew what he was like. Oku Natsuki was the founding father of the Kaminoki Bookshop and much like her own father, all he really cared about was business. It was hard to imagine how someone as feisty and spirited as Grandma Teiko could ever love a man so stuffy and dull. Whenever anyone mentioned his name, the strangest look would glimmer in Teiko’s eyes, and Rei was never sure whether it was affectionate longing or a fear of the past. “Do you miss him?” Rei asked.

“Of course I miss him” Teiko replied dreamily. She punched out three more little discs of dough. “He was my husband. I loved him dearly. But he is in a better place now, and I wouldn’t have wanted things any other way.”

A small smile touched Rei’s lips. “I wonder if he would’ve liked me” she proposed. He had passed away when her father was only fifteen, and that was all she really knew of his death.

The thought made Teiko freeze in her spot. Deep down, a part of her was grateful Oku had never met his granddaughter. They were too similar, Rei and herself. In most cases, that delighted her but when it came to thoughts of her husband, Rei was better off.

Teiko’s silence only further piqued Rei’s interest. She eyed the old woman as she scooped another spoonful of filling into the dough and asked, “What was he like, anyway?”

“The spitting image of your father” Teiko said, chuckling softly. She placed the last of the dough circles on the plate and then grabbed a frying pan and the bottle of oil. “Your grandfather was very no-nonsense, he liked things a particular way and expected other people to follow suit. He was intelligent, business-oriented, he knew how to run things. He started in printing and made his way up the ranks until establishing Kaminoki. He and your father were very close.”

“I can tell” Rei laughed. “They might as well have been the same person.” She peered back at her grandmother over her shoulder as she pleated another dumpling and set it aside with the others on another platter. It was so strange to think of Grandma Teiko having been married to someone so much like Yuruganai Natsuki. As a mother and son relationship, it made sense. She was the blunt disciplinarian and him the whining, demanding child. As husband and wife, however, the two types seemed incompatible. She wondered if Grandma Teiko had been happy, or if she had married only out of necessity. “How did you two meet?” Rei asked.

Grandma Teiko turned the stove on and poured oil into the bottom of the pan, steam rising up to cloud her ancient face. “We were young, just children…” she said, and her voice trailed off with nostalgia. It was a few minutes before she spoke again, snapping from her daze to retrieve the prepared gyoza. “It’s been so long. I don’t remember” she abruptly said. She did not look at Rei, though nothing about her seemed meek or embarrassed.

“You can tell me, I’m not going to laugh. Promise” Rei leaned against the kitchen counter.

“I told you, girl, I forget” Teiko snapped, loading the dumplings one by one into the pan. Rei hadn’t expected her to come off so aggressive. This was evidently a touchy subject, which only piqued Rei’s curiosity that much more.

Raising her hands in surrender, the redhead replied, “Sorry I asked. If you didn’t want to talk about it, you should’ve just told me.”

Teiko sighed and shook her head. After a moment of silence, she said quietly, “I’ve said too much already.” Rei’s brow rose as she awaited elaboration. Was there something she was hiding? Or was Grandma Teiko really just that unwilling to speak of her past? “Much like how you say that Haruno girl behaves, you ask a lot of questions about things that don’t concern you” she continued. “I understand being curious, but some things just aren’t yours to worry about, understood? The past is not your burden to bear.”

It took a few moments for Rei to process her words, to chew over what she meant and the accompanying implications. She could comprehend it all at face value but relative to the current situation, none of it made much sense. She let Toshio lick some soy sauce off her finger, watched him smack his lips in disdain for the taste. “I’m sorry for prying” she finally said as she began cleaning up the mess on the counter. She needed something to distract herself with while she spoke, something to make herself seem useful. “I guess sometimes I just feel so aimless. I know next to nothing of the past. Is it so wrong to want to know where I came from? And about whose lives my own is built on?”

“No” Grandma Teiko replied curtly. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. I would want you to know of your origins but…” here, her voice trailed off again. Rei’s interest rose even higher. The suspense reached a fever pitch before finally, Teiko shook her head and placed more dumplings into the pan. “Some things are just better left unsaid.”

Rei pursed her lips as she swept the counter clean of loose flour. She felt as if she was descending into a twilight zone, trapped within a liminal space where everything was fake and nothing made any real sense. Grandma Teiko had never been so closed off and aggressive before and it terrified her. There was something lurking here beneath her intentions, something she didn’t want Rei to find out. And of course, in the wake of mystery, Rei’s mind jumped to the worst-case scenarios. If her family had blood on their hands, she deserved to know about it. She should’ve known about it a long time ago. Slamming her fist against the counter, she whipped around and exploded. “Why aren’t you telling me anything?!” she shouted. Toshio picked his head up and stared at her expectantly, his ears twitching from the abrupt rise in volume. “Why are you keeping secrets from me? Hmm? Grandma Teiko, just tell me what the fuck is going on?”

A long stretch of silence engulfed the two of them. The longer it dragged on, the more Rei regretted reacting the way she did. A sudden, overwhelming fear took hold of her, terrified that she was perhaps forging a wedge between the two of them that she would never have enough time to mediate. She should’ve known better than to argue with an aging woman. After nearly five minutes had passed in dead quiet, Rei opened her mouth to speak but Teiko interrupted. “I’m so sorry for leading you on, Rei” she murmured. “I never should’ve gotten you so riled up. There is nothing for you to worry about. The past just hurts sometimes, that’s all. I’d rather think forward instead of backwards.” She turned and there was a strange glimmer in her eyes that Rei was certain she had never seen before—a vulnerability, a sadness. Her heart broke.

“Grandma, I—” she started, but the old woman simply smiled back at her and patted her cheek tenderly.

“Don’t apologize” she replied. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I—”

“No” Teiko insisted. She turned back to her dumplings, careful not to burn any of them. “It’s only natural you would want to know about the family that preceded you” she said. “I’m just sorry I can’t say more. It’s not that it’s anything bad so don’t get it twisted. It’s just…it’s very complicated.”

“I can handle complicated if that’s what you’re trying to say” Rei replied. She hoped she didn’t sound desperate, but the expression on Grandma Teiko’s face as she looked up from the stove proved that she did. Sighing, Rei raked her fingers through her hair, smoothing her bangs back, and said, “I just don’t know what you want me to say. It’s not like I can just erase this from my memory, you know? I don’t think I can really relax now until you tell me what’s going on.”

Grandma Teiko loaded the next batch of gyoza into the frying pan, the stack of pan-fried dumplings rising beside her. “I know, and I’m sorry I ever brought it up. I don’t want you to worry.”

“Then please, just…tell me what’s going on” Rei begged. “Tell me what you’ve been keeping from me.”

The old woman paused then and Rei caught her hand shaking, though she wasn’t sure if it was due to anxiety or old age. “Things were just…difficult. Complicated. Just the way it always is for the older generation. You’ll have it easier. I’d much rather focus on your future than my past. It’s brighter that way. So say we stop making such a fuss about all of this and ruin gyoza day with talk about sad things, hmm?”

She had a point. All of this interrogation about the past had put a damper on their afternoon, and suddenly Rei felt sick. She gripped the edge of the counter and sucked in a long, mournful breath. She had overstepped her bounds and now she was terrified she had ruined the one day of the year they always look forward to. She wasn’t guaranteed many more. Toshio approached and nudged her hand comfortingly, and Rei rested her hand atop his head. He always knew when she was distressed—she still couldn’t really get over it, how he always knew. She followed him into the living room and sunk down in the armchair, pressing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets until splotches of color danced behind her eyelids. After a few moments of silence, she whispered, “I’m sorry I always fuck things up.”

In a matter of seconds, a wooden spoon went flying across the room and barely missed Rei’s head. A yelp escaped her lips as she dodged it, then stared at Grandma Teiko with a wide, shocked gaze. The old woman acted as if she hadn’t a single clue what just happened, going about her business with the dumplings.

“What the hell was that for?!” Rei finally asked, her voice coming out far more high-pitched than she had expected it to.

Without even looking back over her shoulder, Grandma Teiko hummed “There is no self-deprecation on gyoza day.” Sighing, Rei fell back into the chair and shook her head, though she had to admit she was pleased to feel the tension of their previous conversation rising from both of their shoulders.

By the time she was finished, Rei estimated that her and Grandma Teiko had made roughly 70 dumplings. Towered upon plates, their steam wafted a savory scent through the air. The smell of them was always so soothing, harkening back to those snowy childhood afternoons when their tradition was still new. Grandma Teiko poured out small cups of soy sauce, vinegar, and chili oil for dipping and then they set about snacking. It was in that moment that Rei was truly filled with an overflowing love and happiness for everything that gyoza day stood for. The togetherness, the bonding between her and her grandmother, the process of making something together and enjoying it together. On this day, it was just the two of them isolated from the rest of the world. They existed if only for a short while within a liminal space where the only goal was gyoza. Rei dunked another dumpling in soy sauce and took a bite, not even caring if it was still piping hot. The burn on the roof of her mouth would be worth it. She bit down and a symphony of flavor exploded in her mouth, sweet and savory and warm. There was a perfect balance of softness and crunch to the dough, the hint of salt from the pork, the crispness of the cabbage and water chestnuts. Nothing could compare.

“I think we’ll have enough dumplings to last us until spring” Teiko chuckled, popping another in her mouth.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way” Rei replied.

Teiko nodded and then pointed to one of the many other plates on the counter. “You should bring some back for Kakashi” she suggested. “I’m sure he would enjoy some.”

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to” Rei said. A soft smile touched her lips, one of sleepy happiness but also a distant lack of resolution. There was still so much to consider when it came to Kakashi. Unfortunately, Rei really couldn’t hide anything from Teiko. Her brow arched as she met her granddaughter’s gaze and Rei knew there was no avoiding the subject any longer.

Over the next twenty minutes, Rei explained in as great of detail as she could manage the current status of her and Kakashi’s relationship. Their reunion a few days prior had been weighing so heavily on her mind, she had become distracted and unsure of herself. She supposed that was the thing with getting everything you ever wanted—it scared you into thinking perhaps you would be better off perpetually unhappy. Like perhaps it was a trap, that everything was too good to be true and falling for it would be synonymous with walking straight into the mouth of the Kyuubi.

As she spoke, Grandma Teiko’s expression grew more and more sympathetic until finally Rei finished her monologue with a sigh and a gluttonous bite of gyoza. The old woman reached her hand across the table to pat Rei’s and smiled softly. “You really do overthink things, girl” she chuckled. “I know how much you love Kakashi, and how badly you want to make things perfect with him but a word of advice: nothing in life is ever perfect. You’re bound to have your ups and downs, there’s no use trying to avoid them. It’s not about being happy all the time, but rather what’s worth fighting for. Remembering the positive things. Life is always going to throw curveballs and kick your ass down to rock bottom, it’s how you handle those situations that makes all the difference.”

Rei felt Grandma Teiko’s hand tighten slightly atop her own, and there was a certain longing in her voice, or maybe it was more in her eyes, that indicated there was more to this than surface level statements. She nodded slowly, murmuring, “I really do love him.” And then, slightly louder, an admission: “I’m just so fucking scared. I feel like my entire life is just me on a tightrope trying to maintain this delicate balance of I don’t even know what. I feel aimless and unsure of myself, like I don’t know where I’m going or what’s going to happen next—or worse, that I know exactly what’s going to happen next.”

“Oh yeah?” Grandma Teiko asked. “And what would that be?”

“Sooner or later he’s going to ask me to marry him” Rei started. “We’ll probably find a cute little house someplace, settle in, have babies. The usual domestic shit. It would all be so idyllic.”

“And what’s wrong with all of that?” Teiko replied. “Do you not want all of that?” She considered mentioning the games Rei would play as a child, the way she would shove her baby dolls up her shirt and rope Kakashi into playing pretend with her. She was always aiming for the domestic, especially with Kakashi, even if now, as an adult, she made sure to suppress it.

“It’s not that I don’t want it” Rei replied, as expected, “I just…it’s almost too perfect. I’m scared I’ll mess it all up, make it an ugly picture. I mean, you can’t really erase your mistakes, you know?”

Grandma Teiko leaned back and nodded slowly. God, did she know. “You can try but you’ll never succeed” she sighed. “Those mistakes stay there forever whether you like it or not. But they’re there, and you just have to accept that they always will be. Sometimes in life you have to make quick decisions or your judgment gets clouded and you look back on what you’ve done later and regret ever making that choice, but it’s done. It’s over with. You can’t change the past, you have to just suck it up and move on. Learn to live with it. Reconcile any way you can. It won’t always make you happy, but it’s worth doing what’s right not just for your own good but for the good of those around you, too.” Pursing her lips, she then reached for another dumpling, popped it in her mouth, then rose and shuffled into the kitchen. Rei watched as she gathered some supplies and began packing up two dozen dumplings into a container for Rei to take back with her. “Let me just give a few morsels of advice” she then said.

Rei nodded, watching as the old woman worked. She placed each dumpling in the container so carefully, ensuring that they would not stick to one another. Toshio rested his head in Rei’s lap, and she held out a dumpling to him which he happily scarfed down.

“No matter what, no matter how angry you may get at him, never do anything that may hurt Kakashi” Teiko began. Rei’s eyes widened a moment—why would she ever want to hurt him in the first place? Teiko caught onto her uncertainty and met her gaze with a harsh confidence. “You may not think it now but eventually you will be brought to the brink, and you will consider doing things that may be harmful. Do not give into that. Bite your tongue, girl, and thank me later. And by that same token, never go to bed angry. It’s just not worth it. One day you might fall asleep and never wake up and would you really want to leave this world angry with the man you’re sleeping beside? And last—and this is the most important so listen up, girl: always remember what you’re fighting for. When shit gets tough, look at how much further you’ve come. Look at where you were fifteen years ago, how badly you wanted this. Remind yourself why it’s all worth it because if you lose sight of the why, you’re done for.”

Grandma Teiko certainly gave Rei a lot to think about as she shuffled home, gyoza in hand. Toshio leapt ahead of her, chasing snowflakes and nuzzling the snowy ground. It may not have been the best gyoza day, but there was something much more introspective this year. She still was starving to know more about her family, but at the same time her stomach also still ached with the thought of having ruined such a special occasion with her desperation. Along the way, however, the more she chewed things over, it slowly dawned on her that she was not going home emptyhanded after all. There, nestled within advice for the future, was perhaps a glimpse of the coveted past.

#kakashi hatake #rei natsuki #the scarecrow and the bell #naruto #naruto oc #fanfiction #ramblings

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