The Hidden Leaf understood the traumatic toll it took on a young shinobi to witness the gruesome death of a teammate. For a brief while, everyone offered their sympathies and condolences to the survivors. Once that grace period ended, people were expected to swallow the last bit of their grief and return to work as if nothing were the matter.

"Being a shinobi means having to endure." The Hokage allegedly took credit for those words, but it had been repeated as much as, "these things sometimes happen for no reason." Those words provided no comfort. Fugaku was tired of hearing them.

…

"It'll mean more if he hears it from you, Sarani." Perhaps she had a point. "You've had more losses in your life. You understand it better. Please…check on him? I'm worried."

Kazusa worried for days because her son barely left his room. He seldom ate and really only left for the occasional bathroom break. Kazusa leaned slightly down to give her husband's ponytail a light tug. "You have night shift today, so you know. Just remember to rest a bit before your shift starts so you're not a zombie by the time you get to work."

"Of course, dear. See you later."

Sarani turned his attention toward Fugaku's room, noticing the door remained closed. 'Are you even awake?' he pondered, reaching to gently slide it open. Just as expected, he could see his child lying on the bed, staring listlessly at the last birthday card his friend would ever give him.

"Hey," Sarani greeted him in a gentle, soft tone. "I thought you'd like to know it's a beautiful morning…"

The Third Hokage had granted both children two weeks to take time to grieve for their fallen comrade. That would be two uninterrupted weeks without missions or duties. In that time, some of Fugaku's friends wanted to visit. And each time, either Sarani or Kazusa had to break the bad news that he wasn't up for visitors.

Kaede brought flowers earlier. They had since withered and hung limply on Fugaku's dresser. He never touched them.

Tohru brought sweets. The box had a thin layer of dust on top of it. The seal had yet to be broken.

"You know what I heard?" Sarani tried again. "Mitsumi-chan gets released from Konoha General Hospital today. I think it would do the both of you some good if you stopped by. You haven't left the house since…you know…"

"…it's alright." It almost came as a relief to hear his child's voice again, but the despondence in Fugaku's tone left Sarani feeling uneasy. The boy rolled over to turn his attention to the ceiling. The fan spun in slow, lazy circles. "You can say Nawaki's name. It won't make him any less dead."

And that wouldn't have been the case, had he been paying better attention to him. 'It wasn't Nawaki's fault.' He hadn't participated in the minefield mission. And it was his birthday. He was so eager to impress the team and do a good job that he turned reckless.

'I should have asked him to protect Shinohara so I could take the dirty job. I should have told him not to pad his report. I knew we weren't ready, but I let him do it anyway. I let him go. I'm responsible. I killed him.'

His fingers grabbed the sheets tightly and he rolled over to face his father. "And I'll have to get used to it, right?"

Sarani frowned and sat at the foot of the bed, placing his hand on his son's knee. "I hate to say it, but yes. He's gone and nothing in the world is going to change that. But do you think lying around in bed is what he'd want to see you–"

"I don't know." Fugaku's voice cracked and he felt ashamed for allowing it to do that. "I'll just go." Though he dreaded the thought of being alone in the same room as Mitsumi, without anyone but Nawaki's ghost to accompany them.

Facing Mitsumi meant he'd have to face reality.

…

And yet he felt the need to make the effort. None of the blame fell on Mitsumi. She'd done her portion of the mission splendidly until all hell broke loose. She and Nawaki were even starting to get along by the end. Every friendship had its faulty points.

'Right. I know we did. Didn't we, Nawaki?'

There was the time Nawaki made some snide remark at Mikuro's birthday gathering. Everyone gathered together for the first snow of the year and Fugaku's entire torso ended up scalded in hot tea. He'd beaten that boy black and blue for dragging him around like a security blanket.

'I was an ass to you.'

He'd made Nawaki cry that night; and Nawaki's first reaction when he saw Fugaku again was to meekly apologize and downplay his own feelings. All that boy ever wanted was to have the top kid from his class pay attention to him and be his friend.

He tried so hard, pouring his heart into every mission because each one brought him one step closer to protecting his grandfather's greatest treasure: this village. Nawaki loved every street, building, and person in Konoha–aside from maybe Mikuro. Maybe he had a little more growing up to do, but didn't they all? They were only twelve.

But from here on out, they'd all get bigger. Nawaki wouldn't.

Mitsumi's room was on the third floor of the building, on the far western corner. They set her up with a black and white television which she'd been watching inattentively for, according to the nurse, the past two hours without changing the channel. They assumed she went to sleep, but her big brown eyes were open.

Fugaku could relate. His friend probably felt too drained to put in enough effort to change anything. "Are you accepting visitors today, Shinohara?" He wanted to hear her say something, anything. Watching her lie there like the living dead left him wondering if that's how his parents saw him until he got up today. "I wanted to know how you're holding up."

"I can't do this anymore."

'What?'

Mitsumi turned around so she wouldn't have to face him. She curled into the fetal position, trying to make herself into the tightest human ball possible. "First, it was my mother. Now it's my teammate. Maybe Hayabusa was right about me, Fugaku-kun. Maybe I'm not cut out for this."

Did she really want to give up because of this? Give it all up? Mitsumi had always held her head high with pride over her cryptography and decoding skills. She was a remarkable problem-solver and could think her way out of any trap. Did she honestly think–

"Even Orochimaru-taichou didn't think I was strong enough to handle the tougher part of that mission. If I'd worked faster, if I'd paid more attention to what Nawaki was doing, then…" She bit her lip and shook her head, quivering. "I was so mean to him. I was so…so…" She couldn't even finish before the sobs came out.

Before he knew it, Mitsumi's freckled arms wrapped around him. He felt her cry into his neck and shoulder, tears sopping into the cloth of his charcoal gray shirt. She twisted her fingers into the fabric and nuzzled into him. "At least I never have to worry about you," she whispered. "You're strong. You'll be just fine without me."

But Fugaku didn't see it that way. "I just lost one teammate, Shinohara." He stroked her auburn hair, letting his fingers get lost in the long and wild waves. It was so rare to see her hair wild like that, considering how often she kept it in the twin braids. "Please don't make me lose you, too."

"I'm just gonna resign. I'll work with my dad and–" He hugged her even tighter. "Fugaku, I can't."

"Shinohara, I'm begging–"

"And I'm telling you I can't. I don't know why I ever thought I could."

…

Whether or not Mitsumi changed her mind, only time would tell. All Fugaku knew was that he couldn't stay in there. As much as it broke his heart to leave his friend to cry by herself, he couldn't take it.

All he wanted was to talk to somebody about Nawaki and have that person feel the way he felt. The most he could have hoped for was with Mitsumi, but she was too wrapped up in her own problems to think clearly.

Perhaps the best answer would have involved visiting Nawaki's home and talking with Tsunade. After all, she was his big sister. Who could have possibly loved him more? But it would mean he'd have to face her—not to mention Nawaki's mother and grandmother—when he couldn't so much as look them in the eye right now. He knew where the blame fell, and it wasn't on Orochimaru.

He had some nerve to even toy with the thought that he'd be worthy to visit Nawaki's family after letting that precious boy die. They hadn't burned him at the stake for getting into a fight with Nawaki, but this was worse, maybe even unforgivable.

If he saw Tsunade, he'd see the body all over again. He'd remember how warm and wet it was and how it didn't put up any resistance as he held it in his arms, screaming and shrieking into the night until he blacked out.

'Tohru, maybe. Maybe I can talk to Tohru...'

After all, Tohru was another dear friend and someone he always held in high regard. He'd known Nawaki even longer and played with him since they were in diapers. Surely–

"If we do this again, I think I might want to partner up with Nawaki. Considering how loud he is and how easy he is to capture, I think I could use a good handicap. Don't you? What? You know I'm teasing, right?"

"…I had to invite him. My mother put me up to it. Nawaki-kun and I…I'm uncomfortable sometimes. It's history everywhere, you know?"

'That's right. I forgot. He wasn't fond of him, either.' And that perhaps was the most disheartening part. Wasn't there anyone he could talk to, or would he need to bottle everything up and pretend his feelings didn't exist?

Deep down, Utatane Tohru carried no love in his heart for Senju Nawaki. Passive aggressive animosity had reached critical mass somewhere down the line and Fugaku couldn't figure out why. Was it only because Nawaki's grandfather was the Shodaime Hokage and Tohru's mother had been one of the Nidaime's students?

Surely that couldn't be why he was so cold…

…

"I didn't mean to hurt you. He insulted my–"

"Nawaki was out of line. Both of you were. Go home, Mikuro."

"I didn't mean–fine. You're a big man, Nawaki, letting the real ninjas do all the work."

"Mikuro…"

"I got it. I got it. I'm leaving."

As soon as Mikuro was nowhere near them, Nawaki blew a raspberry and threw his drink in the trash. "Why do we even invite that guy along to these things, anyway? He's a jerk."

"We invite you along…"

…

In conclusion, even Utatane Tohru in all his gentle kindness wouldn't be able to fill that increasingly gnawing hole in the Uchiha boy's heart. Tohru and Nawaki's friendship was for face purposes only. Deep down, a confrontation with Tohru in regard to this matter would turn into a repeat of what Fugaku experienced with Mitsumi…only he'd be Mitsumi.

It wasn't what he needed. It wasn't enough to hear you poor thing. Someone needed to sit there and go over the best memories with him. Perhaps his parents could, but–

They were at work. And the nagging memory of his mother's bewildered reaction to his biggest fight with his friend refused to dissipate. She'd shaken in terror, afraid the remnants of the Senju Clan would come after her son for daring to punch their little prince.

Kazusa would make it political. Sarani would patronize without meaning to.

With every name that crossed his mind, he realized even further how hopeless it was to think anyone could hear him out and understand. At least he could start making his way back toward the familiar part of town and be home by sundown.

'There truly is no one I can talk to.'

Not Sanjo. Not Yashiro. No one. They were either too jaded, didn't know Nawaki, or would judge him for the fact he cared this much about somebody carrying Senju blood in his veins.

He probably drenched himself in more Senju blood than anyone in his clan had managed to do in two generations, and he didn't even want it.

He just wanted his friend back.

'You may as well admit it to yourself. There is probably nobody in the whole of this village, or this earth, who is going to be able to help. You're on your own.' This grief, as unbearable and unrelenting as it was, would need to be internalized. All his rumination would have to go on in silence, hidden behind a strong face.

"At least I never have to worry about you. You're strong. You'll be fine without me."

'But I'm not. Don't you get it, Shinohara? I'm not. My strength came out because I needed to be strong for someone else. And look where we ended up.'

There before him were a set of trees in a nice courtyard. Each one spread its leafy branches proud and high, trying to soak up as much of the late August sun as was feasible. Those leaves were a lovely shade of green, catching the light and leaving small packets of sky between them.

And in another couple of months, they'd be gone, too. The trees would be about as bare as the boy's heart. "I'm sorry," he whispered, finding it hard to breathe. A large stone was in his throat, or so it felt. As he lay down and closed his eyes, he pretended he wasn't alone.

In his imagination, a hand reached out to hold his and gave a squeeze...or maybe a kick to his leg. Or maybe he'd roll over and pull him into a hug until Fugaku yelled at him to quit.

…

"It's one of the things we have to deal with as shinobi, Nawaki. Death happens."

"Well, when I'm Hokage, I'm going to find a way to reduce the number of casualties. I'll train more medical ninja. I'll promote some of the smartest people I know to help me with better strategies. I'll–you aren't gonna fight me for the title, are you?"

"Why? Are you worried I have a better shot at it than you do? Relax; they'd never name a clan head as Hokage again. I don't mind being your right-hand guy and helping you achieve that dream of yours."

...

'Sorry. I guess I stand a better chance than you do after all.'

This village was fucked up. Who thought it was a good idea to let kids diffuse bombs? Or deliver severed heads to elderly psychic warlords? Or go away into foreign countries and decrypt classified information for a sleeper agent? Shouldn't adults handle this?

Nawaki thought more medics would fix things, but Fugaku saw another problem. They released kids too early. Until it changed, the body count wouldn't go down. There'd be so many more Nawakis and only one or two people would mourn them each and every time.

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. The two of them could have changed the world and now he'd have to go it alone. Even Mitsumi wanted to say goodbye. It was too much to bear, but at least no one was there. No one would see or notice that, at long last, the stone face had cracked.

The tears came out freely as he wrapped his arms around himself and let out every last ounce of anguish that built inside his body over the past two weeks.

It scared him, thinking how long he'd have left on his life before he died, too. What if he forgot Nawaki's face or the sound of his voice? What if the time eventually came where he didn't remember him at all? Or–

What happened next caught him by surprise. Another pair of arms wrapped around him, gentle and loving. A chin rested on his shoulder and gave his cheek a quick kiss.

"Don't cry, Fugaku-nii."

And that's when it dawned on him that not only had somebody seen him in his moment of weakness, but the witness to his despair was an Academy student. He turned around, held that little girl in his arms, and thanked her for caring.

It was too late for Nawaki, but it didn't have to be too late for Mikoto. He could watch over her like a hawk as she trained and climbed up the ranks. He could at least do that for every kid in his godforsaken clan until he had enough clout and power to do it on a larger scale.