The walk back to my place took a while. Not because it was far, well, okay, it kinda was, but it was mostly because Yahiko and Konan kept stopping every five minutes to stare at something. Honestly, I couldn't really blame them. Konoha probably looked like another world compared to Ame.
Konan especially looked overwhelmed. She kept quietly staring at things like she was afraid they'd disappear if she blinked too long. Flower stalls. Lanterns hanging outside shops. Even stupid things like fresh fruit sitting in baskets.
Yahiko tried to act cooler about it.
Tried.
Failed miserably.
He kept pretending not to care while obviously staring at everything like some tourist who didn't want to admit he was impressed. Which was exactly why I'd dragged both of them to Ichiraku before heading home.
I mean I probably needed food too.
We sat there for almost an hour. Konan had looked hesitant at first, like she wasn't sure she was actually allowed to eat that much. That one stung a little more than I wanted to admit.
The second she took the first bite though?
Gone.
Absolutely gone.
Her eyes widened.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Like she'd just discovered heaven.
"This is delicious..." she'd whispered so softly I almost missed it.
I smirked at her reaction. "Told you."
She looked down at the bowl again like it had personally changed her worldview.
"I didn't know food could taste like this."
Yeah.
That's the right reaction here.
Yahiko, meanwhile, crossed his arms halfway through his bowl and scoffed dramatically. "It's alright, I guess. Subpar."
I stared at him.
Then at the completely empty bowl sitting in front of him.
Then at the second one.
Then the third he was currently eating.
"...You're on bowl number three."
He immediately looked offended. "So? I'm growing."
"Sure you are."
Konan giggled quietly into her noodles while Yahiko grumbled something under his breath about me being annoying. Still. The kid had practically inhaled enough ramen to feed a small family.
Subpar my ass.
After eating I led them to my place. A modest two-story home tucked near the edge of the village where the trees began to thicken again. Nothing special. Just wood and tile, worn by time but sturdy.
Konan tilted her head.
"This is your house?"
"...Yeah."
"It's nice," she said quietly.
Yahiko crossed his arms. "Looks kinda small."
"Keep talking and you're sleeping outside."
He immediately shut up.
Smart kid.
I stepped forward and slid the door open.
The familiar scent hit me instantly.
Wood.
Dust.
Home.
"Alright," I said, slipping my sandals off. "Welcome to my place."
Konan carefully stepped in after me, looking around like she'd entered some kind of shrine.
Yahiko was less subtle. "You live here by yourself!?"
"Yep."
"What!? Since when?"
"Since my parents died."
The words slipped out automatically.
"...Oh," Yahiko muttered awkwardly.
"It's fine," I said. "Anyway-uh..."
I looked down the hallway. Then upstairs. And felt my stomach sink. Right. Problem. I had one room. Mine. And exactly one other usable bedroom. Upstairs. My parents' room. My chest tightened immediately.
No. No way. I hadn't stepped inside since the funeral. Didn't touch anything. Didn't move anything. It still existed upstairs like some frozen memory I refused to acknowledge.
But... I glanced back at Yahiko and Konan. Tired. Dirty. Still carrying everything they'd lost. They needed somewhere safe. Somewhere warm. A real room. Not just blankets on the floor.
Damn it.
I sighed. "...Wait here for a second."
The words came out quieter than intended.
Before either of them could ask anything, I turned and started toward the staircase, got up, and my hand stopped on the handle.
I stared at it.
Almost Five years.
Five years since I'd touched this door.
Five years since I'd heard my mother's voice upstairs.
My father's laugh.
Five years of pretending this room didn't exist.
And now?
Now I was opening it for two kids who had nowhere else to go.
I stood there for a long moment with my hand just resting on the door and breathing strangely shallow. Eventually I slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside cautiously.
Dust floated lazily through the evening light pouring in through the curtains. The room was dim, muted gold sunlight catching atop forgotten surfaces. Everything sat exactly where it had been left.
The bed was still neatly made.
My mother's side untouched.
My father's books still stacked neatly near the bedside table.
A folded blanket draped carefully across the end of the mattress.
Nothing out of place.
Nothing disturbed.
Five years and a lot of dust, now.
Somehow it still looked lived in. Like they'd only stepped out for groceries and would come back any minute. The thought made something twist painfully in my chest.
I hated it.
I hated how preserved it all was.
How familiar.
How alive it still felt.
My gaze lingered on an old brush sitting beside a mirror.
My mother's.
A half-read book near the bed.
My father's.
I remembered him sitting there sometimes after dinner, pretending he wasn't falling asleep while reading.
A bitter laugh almost escaped me.
Damn it. Why am I being all sentimental now about this too?
I rubbed my face hard.
"Okay," I muttered quietly to myself. "Get it together."
The room was dusty. That much was obvious. Nobody had cleaned here in years. But it wasn't messy at least. Good job mom and dad, you used to tidy up every morning it seems.
Behind me, I heard hesitant footsteps.
I turned.
Konan stood awkwardly near the doorway, hands clasped together. Yahiko stood behind her with his arms crossed.
"...You okay?" Yahiko asked, quieter than usual.
I blinked. "...Yeah."
Lie. Obviously. But neither of them called me out on it.
Konan looked around the room slowly, taking everything in. "You haven't been here in a long time..." she said softly.
I let out a quiet breath. "No."
The silence stretched.
Then Yahiko clicked his tongue. "Well, we can't sleep in a dusty room."
I looked at him.
He shrugged awkwardly. "What? Someone's gotta say it."
Konan nodded immediately. "We can help."
"You don't have to—"
"We want to," she interrupted gently.
Yahiko huffed. "Besides, if we're staying here, I'm not sleeping in some creepy dusty room."
I stared at them for a second. Then sighed. "...Fine."
And somehow without another word we got to work.
Konan dusted shelves with way more focus than any nine-year-old should've been capable of. Yahiko opened windows while grumbling dramatically about "slave labor." I found spare cloths downstairs. Buckets. Cleaning supplies. And little by little... The room changed as the dust disappeared and the windows opened. Fresh air rolled inside which made the the stale stillness fade.
It almost felt...Alive again.
Which somehow hurt worse.
At one point, Konan found an old jewelry box near the dresser and carefully wiped it down.
Yahiko somehow nearly knocked over a lamp.
Twice.
I had to stop him from accidentally breaking half the room.
"You move like a disaster," I muttered.
"You sound old."
"I am older."
"You're twelve!"
"Ancient."
Konan giggled quietly from the corner.
I opened the wardrobe.
Something shifted near the back.
A small wooden box.
Forgotten.
Dust-covered.
My brows furrowed.
I didn't remember this.
Slowly, I crouched down and pulled it free. Simple old wood. Unremarkable. The lid creaked quietly when I opened it.
I froze.
My breath caught.
Inside were...
Two headbands.
Old and worn. The metal scratched deeply. No. Not just scratched but deliberately carved through. The symbols completely destroyed.
Missing-nin headbands? Why would my family...
My hands went still. The world suddenly felt... distant. Cold.
"...Shiro?" Konan's voice sounded far away.
I didn't answer.
Couldn't.
Yahiko walked over, peering into the box. "Huh?"
He blinked. Then frowned. "...Those are shinobi headbands."
My fingers tightened around the edge of the box, because, my parents were supposed to be civilians. Officially. At least... That's what I'd always believed.
So then why the hell were these here?
And why...why were the symbols scratched out?
I suddenly realized... Maybe there was something about my parents... That I never knew about at all.