This is the English translation of a fic I did in Japanese, as a writing exercise, entitled 苦は楽の種 (ku wa raku no tane), roughly translated as "pain is the seed of happiness". I thought this was an interesting idea - two people who have both lost loved ones in the Suna/Oto-Konoha conflict - coming together and sharing in their grief, and sharing only that in common. The lack of names was deliberate, as it gives a sense of anonymity.
Disclaimer: Naruto does not belong to me; I just borrow it sometimes. The setting and characters belong to Kishimoto Masashi.
Pain Is the Seed of Happiness
The moon shines high and bright in the night sky, and a fine mist hangs in the air. It rained today, but right now, it's completely silent; nothing, not even the rain moves, as if the entire world has stopped.
A cold wind comes blowing.
In the shadow of the moon there stands one person. She stands before the great monument with her hands together, her eyes closed. She cannot see the things before her, but in her heart she sees him clear as day.
After he died, she has come here once every week. One year has passed since then. Even though she is a shinobi, her heart suffers and sorrowfully, quietly cries. She can conceal the pain of losing a loved one, but there is no way she can erase it.
"No way at all," comes the whisper, but it's impossible to tell if it's her voice or just the wind.
She stays that way for a while, listening to the quiet sounds of the night. Softly, quietly.
And then behind her, she hears footsteps. Slowly, she turns, and sees a boy about the age of an Academy student approaching. When he notices her, he stops.
"Oh, um, sorry, lady. I thought there'd be no one here..."
She smiles a little, and hardly moves. The boy looks like he wants to run home, but he, too, makes no move.
"It's all right. You aren't intruding." Shaking her head, she turns to face the monument again. The boy still doesn't leave.
"Did you, too, come to meet a precious person?"
The boy stares at his own hands. "That's not it. I can't meet him anymore."
She closes her eyes and reaches out her hand. Then, without looking, she searches for the name of h er dead beloved written on the monument. Soon, her pale fingertips brush against the name carved in stone. She makes no sound, but her lips form his name.
Gekkou Hayate...
"Whether they live...whether they die...there's no such thing as not being able to meet the ones you love." Her voice is quiet, but clearly heard. "Even though I can no longer touch him, his soul, his heart, they remain here. That's why I come here every week. I can't see his face anymore, but I can feel him. And sometimes, if I listen with all that I have, I can hear his voice riding on the wind."
The boy looks up at the young woman in something close to awe, and then walks up to her side. "Do you really believe that, lady?"
She still doesn't open her eyes. "If I don't believe it, I'll certainly break." Her voice is sorrowful, and shakes slightly, but still strong. The boy looks at the monument, and kneels down before it.
"So Gramps is really still here, in this place?"
She opens her eyes, and looks at the boy by her side. "...Yes. Your grandfather will always be here in this place."
With a somber face, the boy also extends his hand. She watches him as he searches for the name of his own loved one. And as his fingertips find the name carved in stone, he sniffles. "Gramps..."
She watches the boy. The name upon which his fingers rest is that of the Third Hokage. Slowly, kindly, she reaches to touch the boy's shoulder, and soothes him with warm, quiet words. They remain this way until the dawn, two people who have lost their loved ones sharing their burdens. And when the sun rises from behind the mountains, it is as if that burden has been lifted from their shoulders.