Comments: No real spoilers; ends during the Chuunin exams.
This is my first attempt at a Naruto fanfic; I hope you enjoy it! The story revolves around Hayate's death, and the woman he left behind. In the manga, there's a woman who visits the memorial not too long after his death, and again at the Sandaime's funeral (I wish I remembered which chapters, specifically; sorry!); this story is about her.
They met when they were students at the Academy, he being rambunctious, loud, and full of energy while she was quiet, studious, and passionate about the ways of the shinobi. She watched, and she wondered.
Their friendship developed when they'd become Chunin, occasional encounters becoming regular meetings turning into long conversations over ramen or sushi. They shared their goals, they shared their losses, and they empathized with one another as only two such lonely tools of the village could. She watched, and she dreamed.
When they joined the ranks of the Jounin, he'd changed. Too much blood dyed his hands – he was no longer loud, wild. The blood he spilled from his body nightly, persistent coughs hacking up fluid from his lungs, left his voice ragged and quiet, his spirit subdued. Still, he persisted. She herself was no longer quite so reserved, but as an ANBU, she was still quiet. All ninja live knowing their next day could be their last, giving them a sense of fatality that led most to live each moment to the fullest. She, however, withdrew from the late nights and was noticeably absent from the occasional parties, choosing instead to spend all the spare time she had with her sickly lover. Still, she dreamed. She watched, and she prayed.
She was the first person they'd alerted when they'd found his body, cold and alone, a slash running from his left shoulder to his right hip. She didn't shed a tear in his presence; instead, she stoically carried out his last wishes, cremating his body. By then, Konoha was too embroiled in a political mess for more than a dedicated few Jounin and Chunin to drop by her apartment and share in her sorrow. The day after, she visited the memorial, stroking his name in place of his body, and she watched, and she cried.
Even as the snake Orochimaru took down his former sensei, she donned her mask and, with her fellow shinobi, cut down the ninja invading her home. For each nin she killed, a part of her died as well, but she pressed on. Her blade thirsted for vengeance – for her Hokage, for Konoha, and most importantly, for him. She watched, and she killed.
In the aftermath of the destruction, more villagers, civilians and shinobi alike, came to share her grief, more than she cared to think about. But Konoha still stood, so she refused to let herself fall; it had been their shared dream to fight for and protect their home, and it was up to her to carry it out for the both of them. On the day of the Sandaime's funeral, she made a silent promise as she laid flowers for him on the memorial, and before the Hokage, and the lover who'd gone on before her she stood, and she watched, and she loved.
So, what do you think?