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Chapter 2

Konoha is beautiful. It is fresh, and rather unconventional in a lot of ways. Of course, being home to a whole bunch of ruthless killers might have had something to do with that. Nonetheless, Konoha is pretty neat, even when it has had its fair share of bloodshed.

The morning was cold to wake up to. A heater wasn't really available, and I was dismayed when I opened the faucet in the shower to let the clear water run. When I touched the icy liquid with my fingertips, goose bumps broke out all over my skin. I wasted some seconds staring at the places where the bumps bobbed up, before they descended slowly. It wasn't an easy decision, stepping underneath the cold shower, but then I knew I had nothing to lose even if I froze to death. I would certainly prefer it over some random assassin showing up and gruesomely stabbing me.

If anything, I am a peaceful person by nature. It is my policy not to interfere in situations unless I actually have to do so, and the people who I associate with appreciate that. Unfortunately, you can say that this involves avoiding small talk, because I don't want to end up in awkward situations in the end when there is nothing to speak of.

The reason why I am telling you all this is because the other day, I happened to visit the flower shop from across the street to pick up a bouquet for a colleague who had gotten sick. She'd denied going to the closest shinobi hospital to check things out, and I just wanted to do something nice. I doubt if she'd treat those flowers like her prized possession or something.

Were they lilies or roses? I honestly wasn't focused on the flowers when I had bought them, because there was this little girl with wide, ocean-blue eyes who peered up at me from behind the stack of hydrangeas and lilies kept on the counter. Her small blonde head bobbed up suddenly, and I realized with a start that the girl had been crouching all along.

"So, what do you need?"

The question was blunt, precise and to the point – no wasting time on any social niceties. Of course, she was the headstrong Yamanaka that we all know and adore, and she wasn't wearing her usual purple ensemble.

"A get-well message." I eyed the fragrant roses wistfully, thinking how lovely they'd look in my rather dank and miserable little flat, all the while feeling the figurative hole in my trousers where I had kept my money. My gaze flickered over to her for a moment, uneasiness creeping into the back of my mind. It was disconcerting to know a lot about the girl, including her brazen personality and vague details of her life, without her knowing anything about me.

She packed a bunch of assorted flowers and handed them over to me. I quickly snatched them from her grasp, slapped down a few bills before hurrying down the steps and practically running across the uneven streets. Ino Yamanaka must've shot me a tureen of weird looks, but I didn't exactly notice those. Anyway, you must be thinking that with all my grace in trying to avoid unforeseen conversations, I'd kill myself in two seconds flat. In fact, you may even be true. With my luck, I could step in horseshit by submitting myself to Kirigakure authorities and announcing that I have a very hazy knowledge on the future.

That is, I'd be killed unless they are concerned enough about my mental welfare enough to call the medical authorities in.

By now, I suppose you've deduced that I am nothing short of one of those annoying pessimists. I'd like to announce something cheesy like "I'm pessimistic and proud", but we aren't exactly going to have a parade about that, if you know what I mean.

On another topic, Konoha is a humongous city, home to several thousand people who cause daily chaos in the streets. I know I've been on the receiving end of all that city mayhem several times, and I am not going to go into too much detail about how I've had oranges thrown at my back once. My late mother had always told me that I have a penchant for trouble, and I know she's just grinning in heaven and playing cards. Mom, thanks for your prediction, in case you are listening.

Back to the point, as I seem to be getting side tracked many times by silly incidents and thoughts, Konoha is like every other ancient Japanese city, except that it has lovely elemental ninja and computers, even though they are bulky and look like they are from the nineties. Kishimoto, with all due respect, really?

One thing which I am sure you are all curious to know is whether I have met other characters apart from our lovely flower girl. Konoha isn't exactly huge, and in my four years of being here, by your reasoning, I must've at least caught sight of members of the future Konoha Twelve, right?

Uzumaki was almost six when I'd first shown up in Konoha, and he wasn't exactly an exuberant kid. But truth be told, I'd had my first good look at him when he was about nine. There was this monstrous courtyard in the orphanage outlined by sturdy Sakura trees – not monstrous in the sense that it was frightening, but colossal and vast – and it is my job to keep its grounds free of any dead petals. Its atmosphere was constantly filled with the resonant cries of children, and I'd spotted the nine year old blond sitting under one specific tree near a rusty gate, a quiet and wistful expression on his face.

Let me tell you right now that adapting to an alien world like Konoha wasn't easy for me. If it weren't for the kind people at the orphanage who'd brought me a place to work for my meals and shelter, I'd be rotting in the streets like many others. I was a little preoccupied to go about minding about what Konoha signified and its what its characters meant to me – no, they weren't characters anymore. They were living, breathing people.

I think the significance of that rattled me – seeing a subdued Naruto in person for the first time and knowing him suffocated me.

Sorry for being melodramatic, but it is what it is. I can't suddenly decide to develop a 'to hell with all' attitude, because that is just how life rolls.

Uzumaki was under the tree. I clenched my broom a little harder, because even though we were separated by several meters, the scenery around the blond – of children just flying around and laughing, of stern caretakers waiting for the curfew alarm – just slowed down like a motion film. I saw him, and that was it.

You can be mad at me for not developing the courage to go up to him and offer him my hand. I suppose for all my preaching about my sister and my own thoughts regarding the villagers' abuse of the Kyūbi jinchūriki , I wasn't so different from the former. I was an observer in the sidelines, not willing to do anything for the fear I'd get involved in too much trouble, which could end up costing me my life.

To see the right and not to do it is cowardice, and that saying is true in my experience.

By all means, you can call me a coward.

I found myself sneaking into Uzumaki's poorly kept room and arranging a bunch of foil packed steaming ramen on his table, before securely shutting the door when I slipped out, when the guilt became too much to handle.

The next evening, Uzumaki was gone.

I was at the Orphanage mess at eight in the morning, arranging meals on the table for the youngsters who'd be up in another thirty minutes. There were others who were helping, when all of a sudden - from around the bend of the nearest corridor - there was an exclamation.

A loud, sharp smack sounded like a clap of thunder, and I heard confused murmurs all about me. There wasn't any time to process what was happening, and I could distinctly hear hysterical male shouts. Abandoning our task, we all proceeded in the direction of the commotion, eager to see what the entire pandemonium was.

I caught sight of a shock of blond hair, and a huge red welt on tear tracked cheeks. A familiar man had his back turned to me, facing the cowering boy with raised fists.

Uzumaki sullenly stared at the ground, even as a crowd collected around him. I desperately looked around to understand the scene.

"You get out of this room, you hear, boy!" The gravelly voice of the man shook the wooden beams holding up the roof. I couldn't see what was happening clearly when another bunch of people and children blocked my view, but there was another sharp smack, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what the hell that was. There were a few more exclamations from the people around me, and I heard a solid crunch and saw small, pudgy, bloodied fingers.

My mind got scrambled when I heard a child's pained moans. And all around me, I precariously searched for assistance – for someone recognizable. I saw Sasaki, Sasaki with her kind smiles and warm, welcoming hands, and I missed my footing for a second when I saw a hardened, impassive look on her face. It seemed that the people around me weren't simply detached; they had blood-curdling satisfactory looks as they watched on, shooing other children away from the scene as they continued to enjoy it. I was stifled with a sudden fear.

Who were these people? How could I've depended on them when they showed cruelty to a mere nine year old?

"Lord, that demon gets away with everything. He's getting what he deserves now." A woman behind me whispered.

"But he is a kid."

She shot me a strange look.

"You seriously don't know?"

I inhaled deeply. By definition, a coward was a person who, in a perilous emergency, thinks with his legs. By all intents and purposes, I wasn't thinking with my legs at the moment. No, my legs were just weakened.

You are just a bystander. You can't do anything. You are a flea; insignificant.

The warring voices in my head were driving me insane. I could feel invisible fingers tearing raw wounds on my skin, picking at it continuously in tandem to the whimpers of a helpless boy. Not a Hokage yet, but a boy.

Diving into the crowd and cleaving a blind path, I stopped in front of the boy, who looked at me with stricken, swollen eyes. Adrenalin raced through my veins as I turned my own to the boy's assaulter, before freezing in shock; I just had tea with the man a mere week ago.

His steely gaze turned confused.

Jaw clenched, I took a shuddering step forward. My skin was sweaty and clammy; I felt faint. Far away, I thought of the college degree I was going to get in another month had I been at home. But that was what it was - far away. Unreachable.

"Don't create a scene here." I looked over my shoulder at the boy.

"Let him go."

I guess he was drunk, for he thwacked me in his furious haze of mind. I gaped, and gaped, and I would have laughed if the situation weren't so surreal. I stumbled back, before advancing forward and swinging one solid fist.

It met the man's nose with a crunch, and I drove it all the way in, thinking about Uzumaki – no, a mere boy's pained cries. Proud, stupid Uzumaki, whose only mistake was to be in the wrong place at a wrong time. Blood splattered on the floor, and I looked down to see crimson drops on Uzumaki's head, his mouth quivering in shock.

I think he swallowed a little, for I swallowed too.