Chapter Text
After what turns out to be months of unconsciousness, the first thing that Gai learns after he wakes up is this: his own name.
"Maito Gai," he says thoughtfully. He rubs his very bandaged chin with his equally bandaged hand. He's not sure why he's wrapped head to toe like this, but there are too many other things to be addressed and it doesn't hinder his movement, so it's fine. He—Maito Gai—grins. "I like it."
The blonde lady rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "Great," she says, her tone dry but also genuine. Gai likes her already. To be able to navigate the duality of life with both humor and heart is no easy matter! "Saves us a bunch of paperwork."
The old man with the unique fashion sense (robes? with that hat? Gai applauds his adventurous fashion sense despite his advanced age!) says, with every appearance of being bored and unimpressed, "Well. This has been fun. Gotta go." Then he disappears with a dramatic sweep of his robes. Gai appreciates his flair, but finds his abrupt departure rather rude.
"You'll have to excuse him," the blonde lady says. "He does that."
"We tried to train him out of it," a dog sitting on the floor where the old man had been says solemnly, looking vaguely disgruntled. Gai is almost completely certain it hadn't been there before. "It didn't take."
Gai does a double take at it, which the dog side eyes him for. "Apologies for gawking," he says quickly. "I didn't see you there." What a deep voice for such a tiny, cute, vaguely squashed creature, he thinks. He adores it, but somehow feels it is beneath its dignity for him to say it out loud.
"Oh, if that's all," the dog says grumpily.
"Allow me to introduce myself, my unexpected companion! I am Maito Gai!" He gives it a thumbs up and the best smile he can summon despite the bandages. It is a bit uncomfortable, but not unbearably so.
The dog stares. "Hm," he says neutrally, yet laden with meaning that Gai cannot parse. "Hello, Maito Gai. I'm Pakkun. I have the softest toe beans in the three realms. Do you want to feel?"
Gai gasps. "Yes," he says, delighted.
"This is going so much better than I expected," the blonde lady says.
Gai keeps expecting Pakkun to leave or for someone to take him away (because it turns out that he's in a hospital—he has the vague sense that dogs aren't allowed in a hospital), but no one even blinks an eye at the dog being present. Sakura, one of the other medics on his case, actually rolls her eyes when she sees Pakkun.
Nor does anyone, at any point, bother to explain where he came from or why he talks.
It's just as well. Gai likes his new little companion, who grumbles about hospital food with him and snores while tucked into warm, fuzzy ball in Gai's armpit. At night, he has very intense, inexplicable dreams about a tortoise who gripes about having to get status reports from canines.
"Do you understand how difficult it is to get them to stay in place long enough to get details?" the tortoise demands. Gai opens his mouth to say something, but he's interrupted when the irate creature says shrilly, "Do you? It's worse than the monkeys! I'd try the slugs again, but I don't want to distract them—"
Pakkun laughs so hard when Gai tells him about his dream that he falls out of bed.
The blonde lady, Tsunade, shows up one morning with her face pinched and her hands on her hips. "I can't put off those blasted brats anymore," she says. "Well, actually I probably could, but it's getting to be a pain and I'm sick of it. I don't know who told them you were awake—it better not be Hatake—but they've been hounding me about seeing you and I think it's better for them to do that on my terms rather than theirs."
That's how Gai learns that he was a teacher. Tsunade's body language reads as exasperated, but as she tells him about his students (three in total; one martial arts specialist, a sealing and weapons specialist, and one genius with special abilities who has—had, because he died in the same war that took Gai's memories—risen above the circumstances as well the bitterness that they brought him), her voice is calm and measured but her eyes steady and searching, like she's not expecting it to trigger any memories or grief, but she's ready for it.
Tsunade is kind, he thinks, in a way that is tired but true. One day, if they ever let him out of here, he'd like to get a drink with her. He had no idea what they'd talk about, since he has no memories, but already she feels like an old friend.
"I would be happy to meet with them," Gai says uncertainly.
Of course Pakkun and his medical team and hospital staff have been splendid companions! But he cannot deny that the last few weeks have been a little lonely despite that. Will they be very disappointed that he is not the teacher they remember? That would be terrible.
Gai cannot help but look down at the hospital blanket bunched up in his lap. His hands, which have been revealed to be large and calloused with evidence of years of training and fierce battles etched into their skin since the bandages were carefully unwound from his arms, clench anxiously in the material.
"They should be told about, well... The fact that I do not recall them or their precious fallen comrade. If... If they do not wish to meet me once they know, of course that is fine!"
Gai winces at the edge of false cheer that is exposed in his voice.
Tsunade says, almost gently, "It is okay not to be fine."
Gai laughs a little. He unclenches his hands and looks at her. "I'm not sure why I wouldn't be," he admits. "I do feel... fine, mostly, I think. I don't even remember them. If anything, I feel almost... sorry that I can only add to their grief." Pakkun presses one of his (indeed very soft!) paws to his thigh, whining softly.
"You lost something too," Tsunade says firmly. "No one has any right to make you feel bad about that." She folds her arms across her chest and decides, "I'll give you a week to prepare. Someone needs to go to Suna anyway, I'll tell the Hatake brat to send them there since we can't send the Nara kid there without causing some kind of political incident now..."
She walks out of the room, muttering to herself.
"Lee, Tenten, Neji," Gai murmurs to himself. He hopes he doesn't forget their names or mix them up. The names feel familiar on his tongue, but without the memories to accompany them, it's like reaching out into a dark room looking for the ghost of a friend. He looks down at Pakkun, now studiously scratching behind an ear. "Did you ever met them, my friend?"
Pakkun pauses. "Your kids? Yeah. Why?"
"What did you think of them?"
Pakkun huffs out a dog laugh. "Me? Eh... Not much at first. Cute. Not more annoying than you when you were that age."
"Hey," Gai says, slightly affronted, and then bites his tongue on a protest that there was no way Pakkun could even know him at that age. Could he? Gai knows so little of him. He supposes if Pakkun says it was so, he could.
"...They were good kids," Pakkun says, quietly. "All of them. The two you've got left still are. I think," he hesitates, but plows on, "I think you'll be happy that you met them, in the end."
"Yes," Gai says thoughtfully. Some gut instinct tells him so and he believes it.
Gai learns another thing about himself: he loves the color green.
When Lee and Tenten tentatively enter his hospital room, he feels his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. He gasps.
"You're so green!" he says, boggling at Lee. "I adore it! It's so, so..." He struggles to think of a good descriptor until his mind provides one that reverberates within the depths his soul. "...brimming with youthful, fresh energy!"
Lee's magnificent eyes immediately overflow with tears. "Gai-sensei!" He comes close and it feels only natural to open his arms and crush the young man in a fierce hug. His shoulder is wet with Lee's tears. "I thought, I meant to bring one of yours with me, then I was worried it might be—disrespectful? I didn't want to make you feel obligated, or, or—"
Gai feels a great wave of tender emotion for the young man. He looks at Tenten, who worries at the bottom edge of her shirt with her fingers. Her knuckles are covered in carefully wrapped bandages, just like Lee's, perfectly not too tight or loose in a way that is difficult to achieve on one's own.
He is glad they have each other. Pakkun was right. They're good, to and for themselves and each other. Gai feels an odd surge of pride.
"You really don't remember us?" she asks, biting her lip.
Gai can only say, helplessly, "I cannot express how much I wish I did."
Tenten lets out a long breath, and then nods decisively. Lee peels himself out of Gai's arms and swipes away the lingering moisture in his eyes. They look at each other and then they come to some kind of unspoken agreement.
"Okay," Tenten says, and smiles. "We can work with that."