The Child of Prophecy

BIRTHDAY SPECIAL: Hygge (October 10th)

[A/N: So, a part of this one-shot has actually been in my drafts for a very looooong time. But I, being the idiot that I am, forgot to include this in the story lmfao. This was set around the seven months that passed by and only mentioned in Chapter 17. I suppose you can just think of this as a little extra? Reading it or not doesn't really affect the story much, though.

This one-shot was specifically supposed to be uploaded months ago on Naruto's birthday, October 10, to be honest. But I was busy at the time and completely forgot to finish this on my drafts. I'm sorry. T^T

Therefore, I decided to post this super long, around 12000-worded (omg I surprised myself with this, too) angsty-but-also-wholesome special on my birthday (March 11), instead!

But well.... I got a fever and so, it's a week late. Sorry.

Okay, without further ado, enjoy!]

{ Quick warning: The flashbacks aren't on the same day nor on chronological order. :)) }

•••

Today, various flowers were spread all around the village of Konohagakure.

From an outside point of view, one might think, “Ah, there must be a festival going on.”

One Uzumaki Naruko gazes at a petal that fell down on her windowsill, a small grin beginning to paint her features.

However, once her eyes moved downwards, what they met were the sight of people crying. They were strangers. She didn't know any of them. But for some reason, her heart clenched as they placed down the bouquets or lone flower that they brought, before they clasped their hands together, and wept, and wept, and wept some more.

A single glance at such a sight, and the previous thought would immediately go down the drain.

The atmosphere was the least bit of festive.

“Naruko-chan, it'd be for the best if you don't come out of your apartment tomorrow.”

She recalls Hiruzen-jiji's words so clearly, like lines on a leaf.

She had asked, clearly hesitant, “...Is it because it's my birthday?”

The old man stared at her with such a doleful look on his face before he pulled her into his tight embrace. Within his arms, it felt as if the world had stopped still on its axis.

Naruko's mind felt slightly at peace. She had never really been hugged before, is this how it was supposed to feel?

Pure. Unselfish. Undemanding. Free.

Perhaps unconsciously, her body slowly pressed in. How soft and warm, she couldn't help but ponder. There was something so warm; something that somehow felt so right. She let her body sag, and her muscles became loose.

That day, Hiruzen-jiji had continuously murmured countless apologies into her ears. Why he had done so, Naruko—at the time—had no idea.

Smoke has a way of revealing the air, making an artistry of its flow swirls and swirls and twirling skyward as if the wisps were dance partners of an ancient myth.

For Uzumaki Naruko, smoke was burdensome.

The smell of it was thick and sullen. Heavy. Bitter. And acrid.

In a way, it reminds her of the taste of the foul milk she had just drunk a few days ago. She hadn't even noticed that it had gone bad. And yet, it had and got her uselessly hurling her guts out for hours.