The scene of working men and women slowly rebuilding the ruins of Konoha reminded her of a colony of ant workers. Organized chaos, she thinks, like it has been for the past six months since the Fourth War ended.
Kurenai observes the scene below her in the safety of her small apartment, sitting comfortably near the window to catch some morning light. The cup of green tea warms her palms pleasantly. She woke up early and had just finished breakfast. It is a rare moment of quiet for her.
Her daughter, Mirai, sleeps peacefully in the crib across from her.
It's a rather nice day outside, and maybe she'll go out with her baby later for a walk to buy some flowers to liven up their living room. But it's days like these where she wishes for an instant that she could help with the reconstruction efforts too, where she should be strong and devoted to her village and her people.
As soon the thought comes, it passes with a sip of her drink. Her priorities have shifted, centered to the soul that lays silently snoring in the same room as her. Her fellow shinobi can work without her. They can wait. They have to wait, because Mirai needs her, and she holds precedence above everything else in the world around her. But the niggling guilt of it does not leave her as quickly. If only he were….
Her three students understand-always, always understand. Together, they constantly check up on her, which adds to the guilt that she knows she shouldn't feel, but does anyway despite their reassurance and updates on the progress they're making. She is supposed to be supporting and teaching them. Instead, it's the other way around: Hinata brings in freshly cooked food for her, while Kiba and Shino do grocery and necessity runs on her behalf, and Akamaru entertains both her and her child immensely. These gestures of love and her moments of happiness and laughter with them and Mirai are her lifelines in this new world.
It lessens the shadow of grief, but despite the unwavering love, it still isn't enough to completely dispel it away as much as she wants it to.
I can't do this without you, she had thought to herself a week after Mirai's birth. How she loved her newborn cradled in her arms, but she felt loneliness and vulnerability in equal measure without Asuma by her side to greet and nurture her too.
Then and suddenly now, as her red gaze follows a man hammering away at a piece of plywood, her head bracing against her fist, she feels more away from him than ever before.
There's supposed to be peace after winning a war, just like there's supposed to be joy when a baby has arrived. Fate makes it much more complicated than that.
Kurenai closes her eyes and thinks that they are all trying to rebuild back in more ways than one. Like the students that need their sensei to guide them after experiencing the horrors of war, or the workers laboring tirelessly below her to reclaim their homes and sense of normalcy. A woman too soon bereft of her lover, but unknowingly leaving behind a piece of himself to shape and believe in.
Brick by brick, one step at a time.
A/N: I have not watched Boruto, and it's been a while (years!) since I've seen Naruto. Apologies for any canon inconsistencies. I very much love Kurenai, and miss Asuma ;; they seem like a lovely and peaceful couple together I'd imagine.