PROLOGUE
ASHES TO ASHES
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SEVEN had always been a bittersweet number for Yahiko.
Yahiko was seven years old when he lost his parents.
He was seven years old when he realised that the fact that his village was now a collection of burned ashes, unable to boast of even one upstanding building, meant that he had most certainly lost his grandparents too.
He was seven years old when he found himself crying uncontrollably, with a sense of hurt so deep it felt like a physical force twisting his insides – a force that transformed itself into a heady, intoxicating sense of anger when he promised himself (later that evening) that he would never cry again. No matter what they did – although, in all honesty, he couldn't have specified who 'they' were. Yahiko had just been trying to hold onto the anger. Even at that small age, a part of him had realised that if he let the anger go, the only thing that would remain was loneliness.
He was seven years old and already an orphan.
He was also seven years old when he met Konan.
Konan had been indescribable, even for a girl of seven. The thing Yahiko had found most baffling about her hadn't been her unusual blue hair or her expressive hazel eyes (always quick to roll when he made some stupid pun) or even the fact that she hadn't been crying when he'd found her (but rather seemed to be taking her newfound orphanhood in her stride). No, the thing that had surprised Yahiko the most was her effect on him. The moment she'd landed on him, she'd knocked the wind out of him, true, but it was like she'd also smacked a sense of hope back into him.
Yahiko had always been a 'go-getter', as his grandfather had once lovingly described him. For a moment, that spark had been extinguished – but Konan, with her unorthodox presence, had flicked it back to life. After all, with her around Yahiko wasn't alone anymore.
Together, they became stronger for their struggles. They learned to be creative with their survival; begging, stealing, prioritising. Yahiko likened their 'day job' to acting – they'd take turns pretending to look for their parents, ask annoying questions, even faint – anything to distract the frugal merchants long enough for the other to nab some food. Yahiko knew Konan hated deceiving just as much as he did. The universe couldn't have cared less, however; war was in full swing, resources were scarce, and the only people surviving were those with the strongest will to do so.
Despite their often rumbling stomachs and dingy reality, Yahiko could admit a small part of him was thankful. Not for the state of his country, or at his bleak future prospects – but for his friend. And hand-in-hand with his sense of gratefulness came a small, Konan-shaped sliver of happiness.
Things could've been worse.
On his eight birthday, Konan surprised him with a cake. Well, not a real cake. She'd managed to steal a small lump of stale bread and decorated it with some questionable cream cheese. It was meant to resemble a cake – she'd even used their coveted and rapidly deteriorating supply of blueberries to decorate it. It had tasted pretty foul (and when a starving orphan thinks something tastes bad, you know it's bad) – but Yahiko had known better than to do anything less than pretend it was absolutely scrumptious.
Later that night, tucked in his sleeping bag with his stomach gurgling it's complaints, Yahiko hadn't been able to keep a smile off his face. He'd turned his face towards the centre of the cave the two had claimed as their makeshift home. Konan was already sound asleep, the dwindling lights of their firepit highlighting her milky skin and blue hair in a warm glow. Yahiko had smiled wider. It had been a good day, and he'd momentarily forgotten all the terrible ones. Maybe this is all I need, had been his last, hazy thought.
The next day, their somewhat stable routine had been disrupted by a young boy and his pooch. Konan and her blimmin' big heart, Yahiko had inwardly grumbled, as he folded his arms and studied their new recruits.
Nagato was a shy boy, initially stumbling over his own name ("Chibi is a weird name," Yahiko had mused aloud). Yahiko had been slower to warm up to him than he had been to Konan. After all, Nagato and his canine were another two mouths to feed (though it did not escape Yahiko's notice that Konan had always wanted a puppy and had bonded with little Chibi awfully quickly). But by the end of the month, Yahiko would've gladly given his life for either of his two best friends.
They lived together for many months, arguing very infrequently – it was hard to get mad over the little things or 'annoying' habits when the war around them constantly provided a grim dose of perspective. They were alive, they often had enough food to get by and – most importantly – they had each other. Through the tough times, and then better ones too.
They were together when Chibi passed away, and Nagato couldn't hold back his tears. Together when they went searching for instructors of ninjutsu and together under Jariyah's tutelage.
By his tenth birthday, Yahiko couldn't imagine life without Konan, Nagato and Jariyah.
And then, all of a sudden Yahiko was 11, and everything had changed.
Author's Note:
Hello! Thanks for taking the time to read the beginnings of this story : )
I've recently stumbled back into Naruto and finally finished the Pain Arc, and the Amegakure orphans piqued my interest! And because we know a little about them, but not everything, this little story popped into my mind. And ideas kept accumulating until I had an entire plot and couldn't NOT write my ideas down.
This story is canon divergence (I think; I'm not up to date on fanfic lingo lol).
Cheers!