♥︎|𝕱𝖊𝖒.𝕹𝖆𝖗𝖚𝖙𝖔|♥︎ 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

𝖁𝖔𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖊|𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐮|

Volatile

Naruto hugged a leg to her chest as the other limb draped across hardened, durable sand, her head lying on her raised knee for support. Her cerulean blue eyes catalogued every change in the skies as her village began to awaken, lights embracing the levelled ground and the inner fittings of shops and homes. She sighed, her blonde tresses shifting with her tilting head, revealing the white cloak she donned on that had orange flames rising upwards from its hem, reminiscent of another figure.

The Hokage drank in the sight peacefully, her hands clenching subconsciously as she swore to protect this fragile beauty that was her village once more, just as she had in many sunsets and rises. Konohagakure no Sato – the home that once shunned her as a demon, revered her a hero, acknowledged her as being more than a vessel and granted her wish with recognition. 'How conflicting….' She mused, memories flitting in the back of her mind.

She basked in the sun rays that beckoned a new dawn, her sun-kissed skin glowing with the clouds that were illuminated by rising colours.

She doesn't turn when she hears carefully concealed footsteps approach her from the back. Nothing ever went unmissed by her these days; not a twitch of a facial expression, not the sound of singular books flipping the crowd or the smell of ramen a few streets down. With the Kyuubi working with her in a symbiosis, it had heightened everything, giving her a greater appreciation for inscrutable beauty. But to him, she would always be unguarded and trusting, knowing that if she placed her heart in his hands, he would never abuse the privilege.

He doesn't say a thing either as he stops a few feet away from her, taking in the comfortable silence that spread between them. His grey eye stares at her in strange devotion, resisting the temptation to lift his hitat-ate to record the moment with his transplanted Sharingan eye. The Rokudaime Hokage looked harmonious with her backdrop – as she should, he realized – the sunrise blessing her with an unearthly glow, bringing out the reddish highlight in her golden blonde hair that fell down her back like a waterfall. The white cloak that she wore was a close duplicate to his deceased sensei as she had insisted on keeping him alive in memory when his time of glory had been cut short. Her longing figure looked so small yet outstanding against the expanse of the skies, greenery, and buildings before her, displaying the perfect picture of solitude. 'If Sai were to paint this' he wonders, 'would the future generations understand her importance as the sole figure in the masterpiece?'

Would they understand that she had once held the weight of world's peace on her shoulders, and the tireless hours she worked to achieve the fearsome reputation that she now held? Would they understand the power that once dwelled in her chakra coils, the lifespan that she burnt out from all the insane things that she had done?

There was no doubt in his mind that she would go down as one of the greatest Hokages. However, it irritated him that her value would depreciate as the ink of her scriptures started to fade, and she would become an irrelevant relic. It pained him to think that she would no longer be remembered, following the lane of the forsaken like Uzushiogakure no Sato, where the red swirl emblazoned on the vests Chūnin and Jōnin and on the metal plate of the hitat-ate would lose its meaning beyond aesthetics, merely a blast in the past.

The lady was not unaware of the dilemma that he faced, or rather; she chose to ignore it, knowing that her companion would confide in her if he found it necessary. Years in his company had taught her enduring patience when it came to his secrets, carefully stowing away each revelation like it was a treasure. Their friendship was odd: awfully tranquil at times albeit chaotic for one that involved the knuckle-headed, loudmouth Uzumaki. Sometimes, neither felt the need for words to assure with one another, content by being in the presence of one another. He had been her sensei for nearly half of her life, a confidante and friend for a quarter and an advisor for two years, his status imperceptibly moulding into a solid rock that she could always depend on.