Mommy Dearest [Nejiko, Hizashiko]

[weighted_wings]

After visiting Tsurude, Nejiko slipped back to headquarters to change out of her blacks and pretended not to notice the level stares a few other Sentries gave her. Fortunately, she'd not run into her Captain, who would've demanded an explanation amongst other things before slipping out of the building

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[hizashiko]

The silence after Hiashiko had left had been somehow worse then the silence of her prison she had just left. The pounding in her head hadn't ceased and the thoughts that were rocketing around had only made it worse. She half wanted to pace but her body was too tired and her mind too full. Eventually Hizashiko had simply given up and curled up in her too white bed, thrown an arm over her eyes, and fallen into a light, uneasy doze

[weighted_wings]

How did...

Knowing something rarely prepared you for a brand new experience, and though Nejiko had known intellectually what to expect. She recognized the thin, frail, scarred woman on the bed before her. Not as Hizashiko, but as a Hiashiko-lookalike. That is, if Hiashiko was rail thin with hair so cropped it looked almost masculine and did absolutely nothing to conceal the manji.

But the resemblance was there. Oh yes, it was there.

Nejiko stayed by the door, envelope in hand. What did one say? For all the woman looked like Hiashiko, for all the woman recognized her, Nejiko was lost and aching. This was an unknown, a stranger

[hizashiko]

Hizashiko felt, for a moment, like she'd be stabbed all over again. The way Nejiko sounded so unsure, so cautious, how she looked at her so warily... Why had she thought it could magically go back to being perfect? Hizashiko was smarter then that; she knew that things never magically got better. She had been gone for fifteen years, Nejiko had no idea who she was and most likely no memories of her. There was no going to be no special perfect reunion.

Why had she even thought coming back was a good idea?

Slowly, she sunk back onto the bed, just letting herself for a moment drink in the sight of her very alive daughter. She... Hizashiko would just be content seeing that she was alive and well and at least had come to see her. The injured jounin tried to smile, but couldn't do much with how dizzy she felt with relief and fear and hurt and the lump in her throat.

"Y-yes," Hizashiko wet her suddenly dry lips, and winced at how she stumbled over her words. ".... your okaasan."

Nejiko had never called her okaasan, it had always been

[weighted_wings]

The tension was almost palpable. To Nejiko, anyway. She watched--it was going to take a while for the term, no, name of 'Hizashiko' fit the other woman, period, nevermind comfortably--the white-eyed kunoichi stretch out again on the bed and tried not to recall her own latest stay at the hospital. The visible scarring and too-thin limbs suggested loudly what had been done to...her mother without really giving any details.

Before arriving at the hospital, Nejiko had imagined how she might feel upon viewing the souvenirs of Kumo. She had anticipated rage; since the failed kidnap attempt of Hinaji she had had a special dislike for the Raikage that expanded to the weather phenomenon that Kage took its name from. The lack bewildered her until she surmised she was too numb from too much emotion to experience any individual feeling.

One thing did surprise her: how she knew she would not hand over the report on Noburo's death unless asked. She didn't know the woman before her, honestly did not fully trust the other as yet no matter