he's nervous... he's gonna hold gai's hand now.
it’s the day of maito dai’s funeral. gai has never been a fan of bitterness, of pettiness, but he finds it hard to be joyful when the shinobi surrounding dai’s grave are the same ones that used to tease him. bully him. eternal genin, they called him, could never amount to anything more, and gai doesn’t know what to do when they give their condolences.
are you happy, now ? he thinks, despite himself, was his sacrifice enough for you all ? his father would be disappointed by his thoughts, would wonder where his youth has gone, and gai bites down harshly on the inside of his lower lip when he feels the familiar burn of tears behind his eyes. he just wants one more day, one more minute to express to his father how much he needs him, appreciates him, how he’ll never question the power of youth again —– but gai can’t get that. won’t get that, and he feels so horribly alone in a way he’s never experienced. the very last thing he’s expecting is the warmth of someone else’s hand against his own.
tenzo is a sweet man. soft and reserved, but so immensely powerful, and gai can tell just by looking at him. they haven’t been friends for very long, gai hardly knows anything about him, but he likes him. likes the comforting weight of the man’s hand within his own, and gai squeezes so desperately he thinks he may hear bones cracking.
or, perhaps it’s just the memory of his father, again.
‘ thank you, ’ gai whispers, barely turning his head, though he does lean the slightest bit closer, seeking out tenzo’s warmth. ‘ thank you. ’
@tamensei / unprompted !
