Dedication:

Daraku felt alone in the world. He was known as the lodestar of the Ishido, the guide for the clan, and yet he knew that inside, he was more lost than any of the others had ever been. The way they looked at him with that same glimmer of hope in their eyes everyday made him sick. He sat alone in his room, leaning against the wall, facing the bed. His hand always rested on his stomach because he felt the pain and the nausea and he couldn't stop himself from gripping his torso, his fingernails digging in so deep that they would break the skin and he would bleed a little. He didn't sleep for a long time. For the first few days he was numb and detached—from the world, from his family, and from himself—because despite his previous experiences with loss, this time around was different. It changed him. He lost his sarcasm, his attitude, and his casual approach to life. It was replaced with a dark cynicism and nihilistic ideology that loomed over him and left him wondering why he was still alive. Everything was pointless, because no matter what he did in his lifetime, one day he would die and everything he'd ever done would be buried with him and he'd be forgotten just like every ignorant, selfish, desperate human being who'd come before him. Even those whose names were engraved in history were still forgotten; the small details, the things about them that made them unique. They turned into urban legends and myths instead of real, living people. Words on scrolls and portraits on canvases. Never a smile to be seen, never a voice to be heard, never a warmth to be felt again. He wanted to die, or at least that's how he felt. But he never did anything about it.

It was a regular afternoon, and Daraku had come back to the castle from a day trip to find his home in shambles and his aunt Cho in a heap on the floor. His uncle had killed himself. The corpse was taken away and Daraku read the note that Kiyoshi had left behind probably a hundred times over. Kiyoshi was like a father to him for the last few years, since Tsurugi's death. Once the corpse was gone, the empty space left was disheartening. Daraku poked at every meal and spent the duration of each staring at the chair where Kiyoshi used to sit. He'd have just enough to keep from starving before going back up to his room and returning to that spot on his floor against the wall. Everyone was more concerned for Kiyoshi's wife, and understandably so. But Daraku, as hard as it was to admit, was hurt too. This loss had broken him, and he was tired of always having to put himself back together. He started to hate himself for not knowing, for not doing more to show Kiyoshi how important he was to him, for not saving him. He blamed himself for his uncle's death and kept himself isolated in his prison while the family cared for his widowed aunt. He kept returning to the Sand's Domain, in the outskirts of Suna, to the spot where he had killed his father. He cried there whenever he needed to so that no one could see him.

There was a lot of meditating. Just as it had helped with his previous mental illness, Daraku found that Senjutsu training calmed him and helped reestablish balance in his life. Shōta noticed Daraku's change in behavior and asked about the situation, but later realized that Daraku didn't want to talk about it. Nothing anyone could say would help him feel better, especially that soon. A week had past since Kiyoshi's death and Daraku meditated, day in and day out, sometimes in his same spot in the room, sometimes inside the great hollow tree on Kokugatsu Island. One way or another, it was silent, his concentration was practically unbreakable, and his connection to natural energy was stronger than ever.

♫ Daraku's Grief ♫

Jun watched Daraku closely over the course of the month. His chakra was tense and powerful, almost frighteningly so, but focused entirely on gathering natural energy. He entered Sage Mode at times, but never to the point where he reached his limit and overexerted himself. Both his hair and his facial hair had grown a lot, so he was sporting his natural blond hair at near-shoulder length, the black dye fading from the tips, along with a full beard and sideburns. She fluttered around him, even landed on him occasionally to get a better feel for his chakra. It felt so different than before, darker if that made any sense. She feared that he would return to his past self, the violent and selfish man he used to be. He had told her many stories about when he was a missing ninja, the innocent people he killed, how his life was like a blood sport. He still looked back on those times nostalgically, even though he didn't have that same mental instability and bloodlust anymore. She liked him that way, but a traumatic experience like losing Kiyoshi was probably more than enough to throw Daraku back off the deep end. In humans, when life became difficult and bad things happened, she couldn't help but notice their taste for revenge. When there's nothing to get revenge against, humans take it out on everything around them, and they become cold and jaded. It only made sense, since their lifespans were so short compared to the moths of the island and other creatures; they were afraid of death and yet they resented the troubles that living brought with it. Jun felt so sorry for Daraku.

Daraku thought long and hard about Kiyoshi's death, his clan, and the village. Suzume had never come back to the village, so a panel of higher-ranking ninja gathered weekly (himself included at times) in order to keep everyone informed and make any important decisions the Kazekage would have had to make for that week. Paperwork was being handled by Jounin and Special Jounin. The academy was starting to become rather scarce, since the number of new Genin was at an all-time low. The village was extremely vulnerable like this, with limited ninja at hand and no leader to keep the peace. Bandits, thieves, and criminals of all kinds were terrorizing villagers and destroying things. Not all of them were successful, but it was unsettling, nonetheless. Daraku's clan was faring well, and those that lived in Suna year-round were doing their best to help protect the village and continue living as shinobi. Daraku set an example for his people and did everything he could to guarantee their safety and support the village. All of this had shifted. Kiyoshi had been clan leader in Daraku's absence the previous year, and his death put a toll on the clan. Many had left the castle altogether and either gone to the Konoha stronghold or abandoned the clan, and those who remained loyal to Daraku and the Ishido stayed but they were still overwhelmed with grief. What had Daraku failed to do in order for this to happen? Why did Kiyoshi do it? He had never talked about being depressed or expressed any suicidal tendencies. Daraku loved him like a father and he would have done anything in his power to help if he had known. But ultimately, he couldn't, and now Kiyoshi was gone forever, and he was still struggling to regain his grip on reality. Daraku's views on mortality adjusted accordingly. He saw life as a cycle, with inevitable start and end points for every living creature. One death would always be followed by another birth and vice versa, until the end of time. Just how many people had Daraku killed, bringing them to their end prematurely? Just how many of those people he had killed actually deserved it? The numbers disturbed him, and he felt disgusted with himself. The people he had killed, no matter how good or evil they were, had loved ones, families, and friends who all cared for them, and he had ripped them from the world like a flower from a meadow. Those affected by his murders had to have felt the way that he felt; empty, alone...loss isn't a unique experience. Everyone has to face it eventually, and it hurts. He faced his regrets shamefully, and he couldn't stop thinking of his family. A vicious chain of death and pain, Daraku's grandmother leaving his father, his father killing his mother, Daraku killing his grandmother, then his father, and now his father's brother had killed himself. What was left? Who was next? All of this could have been avoided, surely.

Looking back on the past and hoping to change it somehow was pointless, and Daraku knew that. He couldn't help but regret these things he'd done, but all he could change was the future, and not everything was under his control. One by one, thoughts collided in his mind, shattering and disappearing or clicking and solidifying. Over time, he built up an understanding and something of an acceptance for what had happened and his life in general. Once that was done, he stopped meditating and left Kokugatsu Island. Jun accompanied him back to the castle, still concerned for his safety, and he was happy to have her around for support. The first thing he did was speak to his clansmen and set a memorial date for Kiyoshi. Then, he went back to the Sand's Domain again, despite the harsh sandstorms. He sat down at the spot where he battled his father, where his father passed on his last wish and died. He entered Sage Mode and looked down at his hands, the energy rushing through him, his golden chakra forming an aura around him.

"Hey, it's Daraku. I obviously don't know if you can hear me, but I need to talk, even if it's just to get this off of my chest and clear my mind. Your brother...he's probably with you now, wherever you are, and I want him to know that I miss him. And I want you to know that I miss you, and I miss mother too. I've already started to forget what your faces look like, but uncle Kiyoshi's is so fresh, and I keep hearing his voice everywhere I go. Not like yours, not the way I used to see you; it's different. I feel like I was haunted by you for so long because there was this guilt from killing you as well as this peace from restoring the clan and ending your tyranny. I was schizophrenic, hallucinating all the time, not in my right mind. Now, I'm completely lucid and I know what's real and what's not...his voice isn't really there, it's more like I just want it to be there. Like echoes in corridors, just quiet enough to be incomprehensible but just loud enough so that I know it's him. I feel him and it kills me because I want him to be alive still. And I want you and mother to be alive, despite everything that happened between us, all the terrible things you and I both did. People make mistakes and if there's any valuable lesson to be learned, it's that there's so many other things going on that holding grudges just doesn't seem right. Everybody dies at some point and I know for a fact that I'm not ready to die and I'm making it my purpose to ensure each and every person that I care for enjoys their life, because that's what will make me happy. I've considered it before, but about time I get serious. I'm going to gather the clan and we will elect a new clan head. They will act as the guide for the Ishido, the new "lodestar". My period as leader was short, but it doesn't really matter. The new leader will do just as well, if not better. Then, after the clan is settled and our family is stable..."

Daraku brushed his long, flowing hair back to keep it out of his eyes as he looked to the horizon. The sandstorm still made it hard to see clearly, but the sun was starting to set, painting the sky a lively orange.

"...I am going to become the Kazekage."

Daraku spent the next few days back to work as a medic. He didn't talk much, and he held that same dull look in his eye. Seeing all the blood and gore while treating patients was nothing knew to him, but working was so different suddenly. Every wound, every drop of blood, every whimper of pain, made him think of Kiyoshi. The patients who didn't survive made him think of Kiyoshi's corpse. It was all a constant reminder of something he wasn't going to be able to forget anyway, and he found himself exhausted after every shift.

Kiyoshi's memorial was on a Saturday afternoon. A majority of the clan and all of Kiyoshi's close friends came, and Daraku saw their sullen expressions and sad eyes as they walked by. He wondered if Kiyoshi was watching from the afterlife. There were a lot of pictures of Kiyoshi scattered about, along with flowers. Everybody sat down in the rows and looked up to the podium where, one by one, people made speeches and spoke of him. Stories of how he'd met them, how he'd changed their lives, how they'd miss him. Tears flowed freely and dried onto the hard floor beneath. Daraku kept looking out the window so that he didn't make direct eye contact with anybody, but hearing everything was difficult for him. The sky outside was clouded and grey, quite strange for Sunagakure, but fitting for an event concerning the death of someone. When it came time for Daraku to speak, he rose silently and calmly made his way to the podium. All eyes focused on him, and he finally looked back at them. He didn't cry or even feel a lump in his throat. When he opened his mouth to speak, he spoke in a low and composed tone. "Ishido, Kiyoshi was my father's brother. I spent a lot of time with him during my childhood, where he helped to raise me and taught me the things that my father never could. He taught me loyalty, patience, and integrity. He taught me to enjoy the little things and to never let the pressures of life overwhelm me. And over time, as I practiced Bukijutsu and Medical Ninjutsu and became a shinobi, I started to forget all of this. Our clan fall apart and I became a selfish, greedy assassin under my father's wing. This lasted for a while, and I left the village. I didn't see Kiyoshi again for a couple of years, but when I did, I saw the error in my ways. I did everything I could to save the clan, and I succeeded, but my methods were all wrong. Despite all my mistakes, he greeted me with open arms and showed me that same love that I had received from him as a kid. Now, I aspire to be like Kiyoshi. To be peaceful, humble, and caring. I didn't know that he was depressed, I'm sure no one did. It's so interesting to think that someone so affectionate and genuine was struggling like that. But all we can do now is remember him fondly, and remind ourselves that he loved us just as much as we love him."

The service ended shortly afterward. Daraku went outside and scaled the building, then sat atop the roof. It wasn't quite high enough to fit his liking, so he jumped to an adjacent building and climbed higher. The view from this tower was much nicer, around five stories off the ground. There were higher edifices yet in the village of the sand, and there had been a lot of construction during the year Daraku was gone, but he only wanted to reach a sufficient height to watch see the sky over the village's walls. There was a gentle breeze that tickled his skin and gave him goosebumps, although it wasn't cold enough to be unpleasant. He lifted a hand to feel his neck; his fingers traced the bumps and felt his pulse, warm and active. Jun remained inside of the inner pocket of his black cloak. The silence between them was strange, but not uncomfortable. Daraku wasn't in the mood to talk and Jun didn't want to pry. He may have needed affection in order to feel better, but he also needed time and space to think things through. She felt empathy for him. After fifteen minutes or so of admiring the village and how everything looked, he let out a sigh and jumped, landing softly on the ground below. A fall that high would've been lethal to a regular person, but for a shinobi as skilled as him, it was hardly dangerous. Jun noted his skill, just as she had every time he demonstrated it. She understood that shinobi grew to be superhuman in power with enough training, but Daraku was the first tangible example of this to her. She never knew another shinobi that well, and she found it all so intriguing. Daraku headed north, toward the border of the village. She spoke up as they were heading back to the Ishido stronghold. "Daraku-san, how do you plan on finding a new leader for the Ishido?" Daraku looked down at her and managed a soft smile. "Eh, I'm still not sure. Last time, when I head to leave for Kirigakure, I just had Kiyoshi take over, even though I was still considered the leader. He was like a substitute of sorts. If I plan on fully resigning from the position and passing it on, that means I'm gonna have to be fair to the rest of the clan. Maybe hold a general election or gather the higher ranks of the clan and see any recommendations they have. I think the main factor should be strength, because if a leader can't defend the clan with any significant power, then they're useless. We'll see. For now, I need rest." Jun crawled out of his cloak and up to his next, where she caressed him with one of her little, frail wings. "Of course. You've been through a lot, but I'm here for you. I'd like to stay with you for a while, if that's alright. Kokugatsu will be fine without me, and you could probably use the company."

"That'd be great. Thank you. Don't worry about me too much, though, I'll be okay. I've come to terms with everything and I'm focusing on the future." Daraku's voice was light and cheery, like his usual self, which reassured Jun. "Get back into my cloak, silly. The winds are picking up, so another sandstorm is probably coming. I'll run so we can get back quickly." Jun hadn't noticed the change, but she obeyed his command and returned to his pocket. Daraku looked ahead to the vast expanse of sand and gathered chakra into his feet. In a split second, his legs moved in a blur and he sprinted faster than the wind. His senjutsu training and meditation had honed his body and enhanced his connection with the world around him. With this keen perception, he could sense the sandstorm he'd predicted; it was building up about 20 meters to the west, just big enough for him to hear. He and Jun were safely out of the way far before it reached the area that they had been at.

Daraku arrived at the stronghold and took a shower to relax. When he got out, he cut his hair short, dyed the sides black again, and shaved off his beard. He cooked oyakodon and had a hearty, homemade dinner alone with Jun, along with melonpan for dessert. They talked about Kokugatsu Island, the Sage, and the moths, as well as Sunagakure and Daraku's work as a medical ninja for the village. In the midst of all of this, Daraku was starting to feel more like himself. Despite how simple and mundane the night seemed, it was rather cathartic. Once he actually laid down to rest, he slept better than he had the whole month.

(Exit, Thread Closed)

Training: