Fandom: Naruto
Author: neela
Rating: T (PG-13)
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto at all. It all belongs to Kishimoto-sama...
From this point on, things would change.
She stood before the tall body-length mirror inside her bedroom, just off to the side by the walk-in closet, scrutinising the image appearing before her. The clothes hung loosely on her limbs, too big for the scrawny body that'd gone into dilapidation and never recovered. Matted shoulder-length hair was wrung up in knots from days spent in bed, hiding underneath the blanket, ignoring the knocks on the front door. And yet, it was the cause of curious wonder.
Shifting into profile view revealed the secret behind the decayed image, the reason for her little hint of a smile. There, right there underneath her bosom and above the trouser waistband, was a tiny curve. Almost too little to be seen, yet nevertheless connected to her body all the same.
She'd only found out today. If it hadn't been for her old sensei to come back to the village, dragging her out and forcing her to get something to eat, it would've never crossed her mind. The tempura had come out faster than it had gone down, almost sprayed out all over the kitchen floor had she not been lifted and hung over the sink. Ten seconds later she was undergoing a physical check, kept still only by the strong hands of her second younger sensei.
All women had been shocked to find out the cause was a little foetus just under fourteen weeks old, alive and kicking despite his mother's obvious maltreatment of her own health. The air had been peppered with questions of how, when and who before the admonishments came, followed closely with orders to shape up. She'd barely managed to deflect their questions, being in a daze as her mind swivelled back to that fateful night so long ago and the heated moments in a man's embrace.
It had never occurred to them then what the consequences would've been. To them, it was a night in which they should live freely and have no regrets. No precautions had been taken, though she could've sworn she'd been on birth control. All kunoichi were, by default, unless actively trying to conceive a baby. One never knew what they would have to do during their work as shinobi; it was better to be prepared than go through the gruelling aftermath. She had always hated it, knowing what a female shinobi would have to do, even if she was certain it would have been done if absolutely necessary. Just another side of the emotionless tool they were supposed to be.
Grimacing, she let the shirt fall back over her belly, covering the truth she wasn't sure how to handle. She could hear her two senseis rumbling around in the kitchen, or more likely one of them was while the other nursed a sake bottle, grumbling about the new events. They'd been displeased when she wouldn't disclose the name of the father. It felt forbidden in her mind, to tell them before she'd told him.
And yet she feared to go and see him.
It had been more than three months since the battle had been won and the enemies were driven away. Fourteen weeks since their night of passion and just as long time since she'd visited him last. Darkness was gnawing on her mind, churning uncomfortably in her stomach and tempting her to hide under her blankets again. But she was sure the other two women would drag her out again.
Besides, she owed it to her baby.
Her baby...
Her baby...
Their baby...
Rubbing her eyes, the pink-haired woman stepped away from the mirror, refusing to look at it anymore. She slumped down on the bed, sinking deeply into the soft mattress of sakura-patterned covers, releasing a sigh. The swirl of emotions lured her off into her memories, back to a time when girlish dreams were dreams and no such thing as wars and battles existed in one's vocabulary.
It had always been common to discuss their futures when young. The young blonde girl who taught her how to arrange flowers and didn't pre-judge her forehead had been the first to come across the topic. Two children house by the lake had been her great dream, complete with a husband that loved her and held her hand. She'd prattled about it for long moments, never stopping up to ask what her dream was. It had been her greatest kept secret, as she'd always been worried the other girls would tease her if she spoke up.
She'd wanted a house in a field of flowers with a large oak tree carrying a swing large enough for two. There she would sit and enjoy the sunset with her special man, who by that time had neither face nor hair colour. And in time perhaps she would push the swing with a little dark-haired child on it (she'd been adamant that no child of her should inherit her pink locks). She would grow old in that field of flowers, she'd decided, and she had wished a nest of birds would live in her big oak tree.
I wish I'd told you then...
Today there was no blonde to gossip with or exchange silly stories and dreams. They died during the war and so did her friend. Another life claimed by the cold and vast darkness, leaving behind family and friends to mourn her passing.
Squeezing her eyes shut against the tight coiling in her stomach, she rolled over on the bed, finding the familiar pillow and clutching it fiercely in her grip. Images flashed behind closed lids, taking her back to the gruesome events as if it had only been yesterday that Konoha bled, trapping her within her own mind.
For the millionth time, she waved to her friend who was finishing off an enemy. For the millionth time the unseen kunai flew through the air at a speed breaking journey. One second she was smiling at her, pleased with how things were going. The next, the smile was covered in blood on the dirty ground, looking up at her beneath lifeless blue eyes.
She hadn't cried then, only accepted what had happened and moved on. At least she tricked her mind into believing that, but when the night fell and she was moving through the unrecognisable landscape covered in blood, searching for her loved ones, the tears had come. Unstoppable, heavy and in thick streams down her cheeks. She'd been forced down on her knees, sinking into the grime and dirt of the ground, banging her hands against it in a futile attempt to fight the tears.
It had been hours later when he showed up and found her. By that time, she'd been unconscious due to the untreated wounds on her body. For a time she suffered from infections and scarring, but she'd retreated into her shell once more and didn't let anyone or anything in. Not even him. Her saviour, her best friend.
Churning uncomfortably in her stomach, she let the guilt and shame for once wash over her. She had to see him today. Both of them.
Sliding off the bed, the floor boards creaked under her weight as feet trudged over the planks and into the little hallway. The bathroom door was opened and closed with a click as the lock slid into its hole. She ignored the mirror again, heading straight into the shower, not bothering to remove the clothes, even after the ice-cold numbness hit her right in the face.
Never had the feelings overcome her this much, letting her head and sensibilities take the lead through a disgustingly brutal wake-up. Almost enough to make her cry again. And yet she couldn't. Enough tears had been shed in the past, enough lives had been wasted for her to weep and shake while she hid from the world under a pile of blankets.
She turned the knob.
Scalding water flushed hot against red skin covered with soppy cloth, hands going over her limbs to scrub it clean of all dirt, sweat and grime that would've stuck to her over the days. Water raining down on her forehead, she just stood a while to relish the cleansing before rubbing soap in and rinsing. Moments later, the shower door opened and she stepped out.
Drip, drip.
The water ran down her length and onto the carpet, gathering in pools around her feet that would've reminded her of another time in which the colour had been red. But attention wasn't turned to the puddles, or to the dripping torture technique used by most ANBU interrogation chiefs. Eyes were tracing the exact double in the mirror, seeing more than feeling the coldness wrap around her as cold air met her wet skin.
Shirt not hanging so loosely on shoulders anymore, bones and muscles standing out amid sloppy cloth, the bulge was more visible than before. Inside the bedroom, it had been...unbelievable. Here, amid the mistiness of a laterally reversed image, an unexplored emotion fluttered in the deep.
Closing her eyes in a sigh, she wrung the shirt off and found a towel to wrap into. At least the picture seemed more normal now. The blacks weren't so black, the colours were vivid and alive. So different from how she felt, how she wanted to truly feel.
Several minutes later, two pairs of eyes met her with surprised expressions, noting the comfy clothes and knot-free hair pulled back from her face. The eyes widened even more when the truth behind her apparel was conveyed, though the smiles softened soon and hands pushed her towards the front door.
It was time to face the world again. To see them again
Trudging up the slight slope, squinting at the bright sunshine raining down on her, she set her mouth in a grimace at how the muscles were straining under the pressure. Months of dilapidation, letting the body go to waste without training and healthy food; it all seemed so ridiculous now in the light of the new revelations. And yet a part of her knew it had been for something. If she'd returned to duty...some paths wouldn't have opened up like they did.
Winding up the grassy hill, the dirt-trodden track was soon swallowed by the slumbering forest when it levelled out, trees overshadowing the animal life and lazy creeks hiding within. Once, the forest had been a mighty one, stretching for miles in every direction and the trees huddled tightly together so light was hard to come by unless through small gaps between branches. Now the sunlight was glaring through large cavities where the landscape still bore the scars of a war claiming numerous lives finally over.
Being here brought her back, stilling her feet and anchoring them to the ground as eyes fell on the upturned earth, split tree trunks and deep gaps that marred the forest. Faces turned to her where she stood, looking her over in their recovery work, calloused hands working hard and slow to put the glory back on the landscape. Some seemed like they wanted to greet her, others turned back to their work or trained their eyes elsewhere than on hers.
Without doubt, most of them probably understood why she was there; quiet and morose, walking the path so many had taken before her. Unfreezing from her momentary stop, she willed her legs to move again, to take the agonising first step further on the track before her. Muscles were groaning again, precious tendons complaining about the cracks and knots tightening in her back and neck.
The track turned away from the foreboding place where so much blood at been shed in the past, bending into the thick undergrowth where the branches had been pulled aside to give way for the new side track. Originally, the path had gone through the now bare area, so those like her had decided to make another one, avoiding the second memoir of what they had lost in search of the one that mattered. People like him. Like them.
She came to a stop right inside a large clearing, one side of it overlooking the wide expanse beyond the Hokage monuments, the other framed by forest. This site had been relatively left alone. Although some trees had been lost in the fighting, there were those with unmatched skills that grew them in just a little while.
One of her old captains had been among those, using the powers given him through a snake's experiments and the Shodaime's legacy to give the place the seclusion it needed. People came to this place, not to feel exposed or on display, but to find some comfort or pay homage to the memorial rock situated in the middle. As she felt the shivers begin to run down her spine, remembering the last time she had been standing here, she wasn't sure what she came here for.
Last time the moon had shone down on them, giving no promises of tomorrow, only shedding enough light for them to spend it freely. Today the sun was bright, nauseatingly smiling, drowning whoever stepped outside the door with its happiness.
Her stomach churned uncomfortably, making her sick.
It seemed like eternity had passed before her legs scrambled up the courage to walk across the soft grassy terrain, by that time shaking badly from the strain she'd put on them the last hour or so. Breathing deeply, she set her eyes on the target and proceeded along the line of sight.
Growing bigger and bigger in her side view, the village of Konoha rose up beyond the faces of the past (as the face of present had not yet been constructed), basking itself in glorious sunlight hitting the window panes and wooden walls. Another drop of emotion and it felt like her stomach fell to her ankles, along with every other feeling she might've had. Despite her efforts to shut the world out, all she gained in the end was a world that moved on with its life without her. Though ruined and in ashes, the will of fire would never leave Konoha and its people, like the great Sandaime had once said; the village would rise again to regain its former glory.
She almost stumbled on the stone platting before realising her feet had moved of their own accord, taking her the last distance to the stony memorial. Surprised, she sank down on her knees, hitting the platting without a sound, feeling utterly defeated.
Despite her efforts to shut herself off, the past, present and future would always find a way back to control her unconsciousness.
Fingers moved tentatively forward and traced the carvings under sensitive tips, as if writing the name over and over, carving it more deeply into the rock, into the age of history. Numbing sensations fluttered in her stomach, making it drop dangerously low and churning. Emerald eyes, darkened by the time having flown by, followed the curve of the fingertips, reading the names within the quiet emptiness inside.
Friends of old, friends forgotten and family members had been carved into that rock of memoirs, drifting off into timeless remembrance. One day her name would be onto that one as well. Someone else would sit by this place, tracing her bodiless soul upon ageless memorials, letting their mind flutter back to images of a pink-haired woman who lost her loves and friends to the crucifying life of a shinobi.
Never should either of their families' names be related to the life of a shinobi ever again.
Underneath the layers of flesh, muscles and nerves, was the tiny life they'd created in a moment of passion. Unplanned, fighting with tooth and nail against the way of the shinobi, against the death and misery the days brought them. In a way, doing exactly like they were; doing everything in their power to stay alive although the circumstances were unfavourable and against the odds. A life blooming in the face of death, defiantly.
Her child…their child…would never join the hundreds of men and women who fought for their lives on a daily basis. It should have happy childhood, with a house in a field of flowers and a big oak tree with a swing that rocked it gently in its sleep. Sleeping softly in the arms of its mother.
She gave the rock a sad smile, finding his name again and tracing its familiar pattern.
Fourteen weeks since that night. Thirteen weeks and six days since the Hokage saw him fight against one of the Iwa shinobi with a knack for doton jutsus. Thirteen weeks and five days since the day he was announced killed in action. Since then she'd just stopped living. Until today.
From this point on, things would change.
To be continued? (If I get the time this week...)
Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews I received from all you guys! It really inspired me to get this out quicker than I anticipated! Thanks to Ashley, Newtype Omega, thepennameboo, tootallygerlily, Ane S. Thesia, Enchantress10, asuka02redeva, firegirl08, mel, Mandy138 and Jemiul!! And thanks for informing me on the Naruto age of consent/legal drinking age, to all those that did:) And all those who didn't review (I know for a fact there was quite a few of you...) I hope you will take the time to review this time!
I have a couple of more ideas to fling into this little story, but unfortunately I don't have all the time in the world this week, so those who really want more - I hope you'll be patient with me. Though, of course, I'll do my best trying to get it written down. With so many glorious reviewers on this site, I may have to do this regularly! ;)
Oh, and for those who didn't understand. It was Kakashi whose name Sakura traced on the memorial...
