Naruko wasn't sure how to feel about this.
Yoshino was amazing, don't get her wrong, but she was almost envious, maybe even jealous, of Shikamaru. For all his talks about how much she yelled at him to do his chores, his mother actually cared about him. Worried about him, asked him how his day went, fed him, even once upon a time bathed and dressed him. Something she absolutely got to see pictures of as Yoshino went on about what a cute and absolutely lazy baby he used to be, growing up into a lazy but determined young man, one who was torn between his nature to let things be and his nature to stand up for the things he thought was right.
How she envied this. A family. A home. No doubt she'd have been as annoyed as Shikamaru, hell, sometimes she was still annoyed when Yoshino reprimanded her on her language or on her table manners when she had given Naruko a snack earlier, but she knew deeply that this was what a family was, what a home was. A place where no matter how annoyed people got with each other, they worked things out and kept improving each other, helping each other when they were down, not judging them for the clothes they wore, or the insecurities they had.
Not judging them for the things they couldn't control, like their birth.
Naruko wanted to scream internally. She wanted to roar to the heavens why of all people she had been denied this, how unfair it all was. She wanted to cry, that huge gaping chasm of pain and hurt and loss that she had never felt before being so much more visceral with such a good example of what she could've had right in front of her.
All because her father was the Fourth Hokage. Because, of course, she could intuitively understand, why would the Fourth Hokage ask for someone else's child to go through this if he wasn't willing to give up his own for the same sacrifice? She knew, logically, that it had to be her. There was no other candidate, no other person who could've possibly held the burden on their own.
A part of her wondered if maybe her father's faith was misplaced, because she didn't know how much more of this she could take. Because she could almost feel her sense of self barely holding itself together when Shikamaru had knocked on her door.
She wondered, briefly, if she'd ever tell him that she had been seriously contemplating ending it all. After all, her grandfather, yes, the Third was absolutely her grandfather, even if not by blood, had told her that the Kyubbi would very likely die with her if the seal was intact, and that it was super important to not allow anyone to see the seal without him there, and that she used protection to ensure she couldn't get pregnant.
After 'The Talk', she'd been unable to look at her grandfather for several days. It just felt that mortifying.
She knew she healed fast, but it wasn't all powerful. It had limits. She healed fast, but it was days for the injuries that took others weeks, and she was fairly sure that she was still able to die of blood loss.
After finally getting on a Team, something that her grandfather had always likened to a family, with bonds tighter than anything, she had been so hopeful.
Her hopes got crushed. Nothing changed. Sayuri was as aloof as ever, and Sakura yet again treated her like garbage, and while Kakashi made sure to reprimand them both on treating Naruko as a comrade, all she got was a half-hearted apology and a glare from Sakura like it was her fault that she was constantly berating her for doing 'everything wrong'.
Naruko had decided that if no one in this world wanted her around, then she didn't want to be around either. While most would've contemplated leaving the village, all Naruko could think was how much more crushing it would be if she ever left Konoha's walls only to be treated the same way.
Freak. Monster. Loser. Failure.
While now she was unsure if her plan would've gone through, no doubt her grandfather would've had someone keep an eye on her for her physical well-being, she still felt a deep sense of shame on having considered ending her own life. After all, how many shinobi died in the missions for the village? How many parents never came home? How many sons? How could she selfishly throw her own life away when so many were never even given the choice, their lives cut short by the circumstances of the world they lived in?
Her thoughts broke out of her spiral, as she felt someone's hands gently brush across her cheek. "Naruko, you're crying. What's wrong?" Yoshino asked quietly, her eyes filled with concern and worry.
Naruko tried to hold her emotions together. She'd been pretending everything was okay for years, and she'd like to think she was very good at it.
All of that broke at the gentle touch of a mother's hand, a mother who saw that something was wrong, and Naruko's mask absolutely shattered.
She sobbed as she absolutely collapsed, pain, self-loathing, hatred, agony, festering for over a decade exploding out of her mouth as Naruko just fell apart, wondering why she felt so safe in someone else's arms that wasn't Shikamaru.
She knew she was talking, but she couldn't even control herself long enough to hear what she herself was saying because all she could feel was Yoshino's arms around her, and she knew she'd be mortified later on as she kept apologizing for ruining Yoshino's shirt in between sobs and rambles about how much everything sucked until Shikamaru came along and how scared she was that he'd wake up one day and leave her like everyone else did.
She felt so exhausted by the end of it that she hadn't even realized she had fallen asleep, desperately holding onto Yoshino like a lifeline as Shikamaru gently took her into his arms as she went to grab onto him like her life depended on it while Yoshino stood still, her face impassive as her own tears fell.
Except, Yoshino's tears were not of sorrow. They were of rage.
"Shikamaru. Please inform Naruko Uzumaki that she is no longer allowed to live in that Kami forsaken apartment, and that all of her stuff will be moved immediately into temporary housing with us until the Nara Clan builds a proper private dwelling for her, and likely yourself, as she is not allowed under any circumstances to be left alone. I am going to be speaking to your father as soon as he gets home about these changes, among others that may be needed."
Yoshino paused, her eyes darkening.
"Then, I'm going hunting. The Wendigo will be feeding quite well this year."
The shadows lengthened as Yoshino Nara's face contorted as the room seemed to shake slightly, the shadows collapsing over her form as if to swallow all light in the area before Yoshino left the room silently, her hand twitching as claws of shadows pooled out of her hands with each motion, as if imagining tearing out the throats of the one's who had crossed her path on a very bad day.
For a lot of civilians, it would be their last night in Konoha. For Yoshino, all she'd say was that she liked to go for a walk sometimes in the village at night.
Very enthusiastic walks. She had to stay in shape, after all.