VMilu

That was not the first thing that Hana noticed. She did not register the silence people kept talking about, neither the relief, or the grief. She noticed the strange way the sky looked unchanged, even after everything that had happened beneath it. There was no silence, the village was loud in a different way. It was not the blades, but the hammers striking, constructions and rebuilding. Voices now raised not in panic, but in silly arguments, and some in worries about housing and food.

She stepped over a crack in the road that hadn’t been there a week ago, caused by huge white branches that where everywhere around the village, adjusting her grip on the empty sack of rice against her hip. The ration line curved around the corner of what used to be a storefront only two days ago, now out of business, and used as storage room for the supplies. The owner was probably dead.

“…that's what I've been telling you since yesterday! They said he stood there and channeled his chakra to everyone like some short of God!”

“That’s Naruto for you! Always was a freak since he was a kid, but just a good type it seems. God protected us through him, we should be thankful either way.”

A woman laughed, sharp and bright with relief. Someone else chimed in, voice reverent now, almost hushed, she couldn’t hear clearly what they were saying. Someone was shouting from the end of the line, few paces behind her.

“They should build a huge statue right in the center of the village in his honor!”

Hana kept her hazel eyes forward, but stopped listening to conversations happening around her. She almost laughed. The way awe settled easily on people and changed their tune after badmouthing someone for years and making his upbringing hell was unsettling. Naruto Uzumaki’s name floated through the line again and again, wrapped in gratitude, pride, devotion that bordered on religious.

She thought that they are lucky that he is a pure soul, who will act as if he doesn’t remember how they were treating him only few years ago. She didn’t interrupt them though, and she didn’t correct anyone, there was no need to. She remembered too well how the same voices used to lower when they said his name full with poison, how parents used to tug their children closer when he passed as far away from him as possible. Cruelty had once been casual and communal, and everyone is acting like it never existed. It was maddening.

She shifted her weight feeling a pain settle on her hip due to a small injury she previously wasn't aware of. Behind her, someone muttered something less enthusiastic, and more like a whine.

“Still.. I don’t trust that Uchiha. How can they possibly forget everything that he has done? He was a criminal few days ago-”

The reply came quickly, stopping whatever the other person wanted to say next.

“Shush! Be careful! The new Hokage is backing him up, that should be enough of an answer. Us ordinary folks have nothing to do with it.”

Hana exhaled through her nose, rolled her eyes and stared at the chipped wood of the counter two meters ahead of her. She was in this line for the past hour, maybe more.

Naruto had been alone once, she has seen it, but there was nothing she could do, being an orphan herself, and a civilian at that. She wondered how people had forgotten their past actions so conveniently. Sasuke was now obviously the easier target. No one was interested in complicated truths of heroes who were on the wrong path due to unfortunate and tragic events, but still ended up doing good.

When it was finally her turn, she sighed and slid her ration card forward without a word or a glance to the woman before her. The clerk stamped it, barely looking up herself, and handed her a bag of rice with a tired and impatient nod. Hana adjusted the strap over her shoulder on her now full sack, and stepped out of line immediately scanning the street for someone who might need help carrying their own things.

No more than two steps and one breath later, she spotted an elderly man struggling near the corner, his crate full with supply bags listing dangerously to one side. She quickly crossed the distance and without even announcing herself took one handle and patiently waited until he noticed her.

“Thank you child” he said when he saw her, his eyes widening, breathless. “These things are heavier when you have a family of 6 to take care of.”

“It’s okay” she replied, adjusting her grip and giving him a small smile. “Just show me the way to your shelter.”

That earned a weak smile that turned into a fit of coughing. She walked slowly following his pace towards the temporary housing tents, before setting the crate down gently and stepping back. No gratitude speeches were offered from his family, not that she expected any. No wonder he was doing this by himself based on their characters. The poor guy thanked her and she simply nodded and went away.

° ° °

The village these days smelled like wet stone and antiseptic, layered with smoke from cooking fires that burned longer than they should have, for heat at night. Rebuilding had begun before anyone could agree on how it was supposed to look or work.

As she walked towards her own shelter, Hana’s gaze caught on a section of street cordoned off with broken wood and concrete. The shape of it tugged at something old and uncomfortable in her chest, and despite herself she slowed to a stop without realizing it.

It had been chaos there, once again, but 17 years ago. There were screams and dust, the ground giving way beneath her small feet as if the earth itself had decided to shatter. She had been younger then, thinner, frozen by fear and the sound of her own heartbeat in her little ears. She still remembers the pressure of a hand at her shoulder, firm and unyielding, probably her mother who was dying next to her. A screeching voice telling her to move, to run for her life, to not look at her father’s unmoving body or at the nine-tailed fox.

The next thing she remembers is a body moving her away from the only family she ever knew, and ever had, away from the rumble. She hadn’t seen his face then, only the fabric of a flak grey ANBU vest, the flash of silver hair, and the way the noise was moving away as she was out of the danger zone.

Later, much later, when she was in a room full of orphans, she had learned the name by accident from the whispering adults describing her circumstances.

Hatake Kakashi was the stranger's name.

She hadn’t seen him again for a long time, he had already been gone from her simple world.

And now she saw him across the street. Her savior once again, pulling her away from the memories that never stopped plaguing her.

He stood near the remains of a collapsed building, speaking with two shinobi Hana didn’t recognize. He wasn’t gesturing wildly or raising his voice and he didn’t need to. People have a habit to lean towards him without realizing it, like some short of a gravity pull. His posture was relaxed, hands tucked casually away in his pockets, but nothing about him looked careless or nonchalant. And the mask was still there. She laughed.

Of course it was.

Hana felt something stir, faint but mostly unwelcome, a feeling like an old bruise pressed by accident. She had been a teenager when she first started hearing stories about him, whispered half-myths traded in the orphanage late at night between girls about an impressive young man they never will cross paths with. She’d grown out of that phase, so she looked away sharply and continued on with a content smile on her face. Admiration was easy and convenient from a distance, that’s all she will get anyway.

After leaving the rice at her small makeshift shelter she visited the notice board outside the civil coordination office. It was crowded with paper, edges curling in the sun, full with mud and dirty fingertips. Requests, announcements, arguments, even gossips written in ink. Hana stopped to scan it quickly, eyes snagging on a simple line near the bottom written with big uneven letters.

CIVILIAN VOLUNTEERS NEEDED! - Logistics. Inventory. Ration distribution. Literacy required!

She hesitated for a fraction of a second and then stepped inside the coordination office. The building had once been a civilian school annex, but now it was an exercise in controlled disorder. Desks with children’s scribbles had been dragged into uneven rows, papers stacked in leaning towers, voices overlapping without rhythm. It was an organized chaos.

Someone was arguing near the back about delivery routes, someone else was crying quietly near the window mumbling about the unfairness of the bureaucracy. While taking in all of her surroundings a man with ink-stained fingers looked up as Hana approached the nearest desk, his desk.

“You here to complain or help?” he said with a scowl on his face, his glasses broken but still usable in a weird way.

“Depends.” she said finally looking at him instead of his glasses. “Which one do you need more?”

He snorted despite himself and shoved a clipboard toward her without giving her a second glance.

“Name. Age. Skills.”

Instead of writing them down and waiting for him to check them or ignore them for the next hour she simply answered.

“Hana. No surname. Twenty-four. I can read, write, and count.” She said crossing her arms and shifting her weight on her other leg wincing slightly in pain.

“Lucky us..” he murmured, scribbling. After a few seconds, remembering her presence he waved her toward an empty chair. “Start matching these names to ration cards and if something doesn’t add up, bring it to me, if it does add up, don’t fucking bother me.”

He gave her a quick last glance and continued his scribbling in a new menacing way. Sighing and giving a last look around the room, she picked up the first stack of papers, and got to work.

Of course, it didn’t take long to notice the gaps and the mistakes. There were deliveries marked complete that never arrived, ninja neighborhoods receiving double allocations while civilian ones were flagged as “pending” or “rejected” for no good reason. There were some contractor names repeating too often for it to be a simple coincidence. Her frown deepened while she pulled another sheet closer, cross-referenced dates.

“Excuse me..” she said finally, rising from her chair and looking at the grumbling man. “Why is the eastern sector listed as low priority? Half their housing is gone.”

The man glanced at the paper, then at her. “That decision’s already made. Also, not your business.”

“Made by who?” She frowns pressing for answers.

“Who else?” he grumpled without looking at her “People above us. Obviously.”

There was a pause. The paper in her had still hovering between them. He wasn’t going to say anything else.

“That’s not an answer.”

He sighed as if he was keeping up with an idiot.

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

Hana pressed her lips together and forced herself back into her chair without another word. He obviously doesn’t care so there was no reason for her to get into an argument with him, so she kept working gathering the mistakes.

After a few hours of work she suggested to escort two elderly women that came for help inside the office to the medical station. She was tired but still decided to wait while their health was assessed.

That’s when she noticed the pink-haired medic and the blonde one with sharp blue eyes, both directing the staff with practiced efficiency despite their young appearance. They exchanged brief nods and tired smiles with Hana as they passed through.

° ° °

By the end of the next week the papers she was working on were no longer just messy, they were wrong. Hana gathered what she could, clipped the stack together, and stood. The man with ink-stained fingers whose name she still didn’t know looked up, already visibly tired of her.

“I need to submit an objection.” she said standing in front of him with confidence.

He rubbed his eyes and took a long breath.

“As I already said. Put it in the damn tray.”

“As I already said, I did, every day.” She said emphasizing the last two words.

“Then it’ll be reviewed.”

“When?”

“When they get to it. Don’t ask stupid questions”

Hana exhaled slowly ignoring his scowl and decidedly turned away to leave, since he will be of no help.

She heard that there was a meeting at the moment with some officials on the same floor, so in her head, the obvious decision was made. She took quick steps towards the hallway outside the meeting rooms which were carpeted and quieter, except the background shouts of the irritating man calling her to put the papers back in their place and not dare go inside. She knew he will not get up from his sacred seat either way.

Voices drifted through the heavy doors ahead and Tsunade’s voice carried easily, sharp and controlled. Hana’s eyes widened with realization, she hadn’t planned on going this far, but it was one in a million chance so she had to take it. Without giving it a second thought, she opened the door and crossed the threshold anyway.

The room fell suddenly silent as she stepped inside. Several heads turned, disapproval visibly registered quickly on the faces of the elders, and the civilian representatives, their gazes sharp. Tsunade seated in the middle of the room lifted an eyebrow in amusement. Kakashi, slightly back from the main table on her left looked up from his notes with a bored expression.

“I’m sorry.” Hana said, voice clear despite the sudden heat in her chest, especially after noticing his presence. “I was told my concerns would be reviewed later, but “later” doesn’t work while people are starving out there.”

One of the elders scoffed looking at her as if she was nothing more than an insect.

“This is not a civilian forum, girl.”

“I am aware.” Hana replied without a beat. “But you definitely should look at these.”

She placed the stack of papers on the nearest open space on the office table in front of Tsunade, who leaned forward scanning them. The room waited for her reaction. The criticizing eyes were burning her so she decided to fill the silence.

“This is about supply prioritization” Hana continued, words coming easier despite everything. “You’re diverting resources toward fortifications when trade routes are broken and agriculture hasn’t restarted. Everyone will starve before walls even matter.”

“That’s a speculation” an elder on her right snapped.

“No.” Hana said with almost a growl looking at him. “It’s facts. And math.”

A murmur rippled asTsunade’s mouth twitched in interest. Kakashi suddenly spoke then, voice even, almost bored.

“If the projections are accurate delaying civilian recovery increases long-term security risk, and survival of the whole village...”

Another elder turned sharply.

“Hatake!This is not-”

“Oh but it is” Kakashi replied casually readjusting his glove for no reason. “I already told you so yesterday during our visit to the northern civilian district. If she’s wrong dismiss it with the data she brought.” he shrugged.

Silence followed, thicker this time, and then he added in a cheerful voice, creasing his eyes in an obviously fake smile.

“But who am I to say. Careless as always.. Bad habit. My bad.” He gave a lazy shrug. “Still picking things up from Tsunade-sama, maybe the inauguration should be postponed afterall-”

Tsunade straightened and cleared her voice without letting him finish his sentence.

“Sit.” she told Hana. “You have five minutes to explain why you interrupted this meeting.”

Hana sat, back straight and took a breath. She spoke quickly, not because she was nervous, but because she had been holding this in since the day she saw the first mistakes. She did not plead, there was no need for that, she simply laid out routes, timelines and consequences. She trusted the Hokage to see what she is seeing, to do good. Civilians are responsible for agriculture. If the civilians are dying out, the food production wil stop, then even the shinobi will starve.

When she finally finished, no one said anything for a full minute. Then she simply stood up, bowed, and got out of there as fast as she could. There was nothing else she could do now.

Hana stepped back into the streets, shoulders heavy, pulse still loud in her ears and took the route back to her shelter, preferably her bed. She nervously adjusted the strap of her bag going through the busy crowd, aware of eyes on her back each time she bumped into someone, and painfully aware that she had crossed a line she isn’t allowed to cross. That’s when she finally realized it.

The war was truly over. But the rest it seemed, was just beginning.

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