Letters, Ripples and Butterfly Wings

January 1th, Year 61 of the Hidden Villages, 12:03 AM

Dozens and dozens of bells leisurely crooned at one booming voice, leaving at its wake a defiant and ill-tempered echo that vanished with certainty but without any hurry. One could almost felt the acoustic waves getting underneath the body's brittle skin, making it tingle.

Akako closed the eyes, enjoying the solemn 108 strokes of midnight that signaled the end of a year. 

Slowly, but quicker that she would've liked, the bells quieted down; giving way to the insistent chirps from the many nocturnal creatures that dwelled in the surrounding woods even in the snowy winter.

Aside from the forest critters' wild chanting, there was the riotous jibber jabber of the children behind her, causing a mild disturbance in the ambiance of peace reigning their path. Such bustle caused some of the staff members who were accompanying them as well to exchange brief exasperated glances with each other.

Yet nobody told them to keep it down, as they were actually bothering no one. And their feverish enthusiasm certainly wasn't unjustified.

They lived rather sheltered lives, rarely going outside unless they had to, and spending most of their time locked up in their humble but olde abode. Only during the festivities they were excepted from this, and during Omisoka* and Ganjitsu* their curfew didn't apply.

The nightly temperatures were obviously glacial but the interior of their conveyance was enjoyably warm. When she and her staff went downtown with their charges for the holidays they  did it on foot, but due to the weather they returned in a cosy rickshaw pulled by one strongman alone, who was a foreign on passing and in dire need of a few extra cents.

The muscled circus man had a daffy moustache, a queer accent, and a squeaky voice that made impossible to take him seriously. But he was tall, taller than any other she had ever known, and although she was sure she could take him down, his physical strength, -for a non-chakra user-, was nonetheless noteworthy as well.

Akako leaned on her seat in search of more comfort, planning to just relax and sedatedly stare at the passing landscape, until her keen senses picked up on something.

She felt three distinctive presences. They were near them, and she didn't recognize them; and although there was no sign of hostility in them her chest was heavy with worry. But as soon as she felt them they vanished without a trace.

She was flabbergasted. The presences were very defined so she'd known they were shinobis from the start, but for them to be able to get away from her range so quickly... they had to be extremely skilled ones. The heaviness in her chest only grew.

For some sundry minutes all her senses fiercely foraged her environs in hopes to perceive something again, to absolutely no avail endwise. Just like she was beginning to really get desperate, a sharp mewl pierced the air, momentarily interrupting the noisy parley around her.

"What was that?" one of the boys huddled in the back asked curiously. But before anyone could respond, a new mewl was heard, this time more alarming and plaintive than before.

Akako abruptly stood up, as much as she could in the narrow space forward her seat, with her body taut and tense for battle. She didn't know if the apparition of those mewls and those presences were related in some way, but for the moment that didn't matter to her.

She just knew she had to do something, and quick.

A quick weave of fingers... and a thick layer of genjutsu promptly hung over the air. Conversations flowed again, and their return trip continued as if nothing. No one but Akako noticed how everyone was repeating what they had said minutes ago; or how now the driver was mindlessly moving the rickshaw with them into senseless circles.

She jumped off the cart and, without a care for her uncomfortable kimono, headed onwards at quick strides, unsure and wary of what, or who, she would find, her feet involuntarily being draw to the aliens sounds, just like a sailor to a siren song.

She didn't find anyone, less so people who could be matches for the presences she had felt earlier. But that didn't mean she didn't find anything. Because at the foot of the gates of the orphanage, their home, an old and battered wicker moses had been placed.

And inside of it there was a baby crying inconsolably.

October 3th, Year 66 of the Hidden Villages, 11:45 AM

Tanaka Chiasa looked at the wary faces of the adults around her with concern. At 16 years old, she was undoubtedly the youngest of the people who were present there. But just because she was young, didn't mean she was dumb. No one could miss the tension in the air.

Chiasa's family were rice farmers, coming from one of the poorest and most inhospitable regions of the Land of Fire. And as the oldest in a household with no men except for her aging father, she was the one who helped her parents in the fields, all days from sunrise to nightfall. So besides being strong in body, she was already a hard-working person too.

But even bee workers like them get tired of work with no real recompense, of constantly fighting to stay afloat. Thusupon the advent of her youngest sister, the whole family swiftly packed their few possessions and left without a glance back. There was nothing for them in that plaintive place anyway.

In Konohagakure, things went a little brighter for them. Chiasa's parents still worked the fields as laborers, but with easier hours that allowed rest. And Chiasa herself was able to get a job near instantly in the orphanage, one less physically demanding and better paid than farming, food and boarding included too. She was very grateful with them for that, because outside of farming she had no work experiences, no skills besides menial work, and on top of that, illiterate (much to her inner shame) as well.

And although she missed her family, having to be away from them the whole week, it was a minuscule price to pay for the chance to help to support her family financially.

And now, even with no one saying anything yet, she had the horrible hunch that their livelihoods (her livelihood, her family's livelihood) were at risk. And she was very afraid.

Where else would someone like herfind work?

Pale lips were wrapped around the spout of a chilled crystal bottle with a liquid of amber coloring inside.

"Drinking at this hour of the day Kamiya-san? It's not even noon." An airy male voice admonished.

Akako shrugged. "It's just a beer. It's not like I'm drinking sake." 

"Still, it's too early to be consuming alcohol of any kind."

Akako did not deny that.

"What's up Shinji?" The man in question only sighed and proceeded to gently pry the bottle from the woman's dainty fingers.

Akako stilled and looked at him with extreme annoyance for such action, something that he did not notice or at least pretended not to. She certainly wasn't an alcoholic who had to be forcibly removed from the bottle.

"Everyone is already in the room. Come on, we're waiting for you."

"Already?" 

Shinji looked at her oddly, informing her it had already been past an hour since she first called them all. They all were already inside her office.

Upon arrival, many turned to see them. Some with annoyance, and others with caution. Unsurprisingly, the first one to express her discontent was Ikeda Amida.

"It was about time you arrived! We have been waiting for you over half an hour." the older woman exclaimed, narrowing her eyes at Akako. Akako simply shrugged off the older woman's complaints and glares.

"Sorry. I entertained myself in other things. Important things." 

Shinji looked at her, bemused at her silly and obvious lie, however he didn't say anything.

"Well, let's get started then. What did you want to talk with us Kamiya-san?" inquired candidly Sato Suki, a spirited young lady that worked as a nanny for the smaller children. At Suki's left Sato Hiroto, -her younger identical twin who worked in the orphanage too but as an horticulturist and gardener- , dipped his head in silent agreement to his sister's words.

Akako sighed and delicately sat in her desk, throwing a tired look across the entire room.

"I'm sure most of you already has an idea of how bad the state of our finances is." she answered aboveboard.

Several heads nodded grimly. Even if Kamiya hadn't said anything until now, one had to be truly daft to not notice the perilous situation in which their work space and, -in the case of some-, their second home, was.

Past summer had been extremely harsh on them. A horrendous and unmerciful dust-storm, begotten in Sunagakure and nurtured in the sands of Ma-no-Sabaku*, travelled through the entire continent and coincidentally made its way to Konohagakure. The natural phenomenon had been quickly vanquished by some of Konoha's best Wind elements users before it could fully enter the village, and therefore little damage was caused to its heart, but the orphanage and the Uchiha district, -both located on the outskirts-, had not been quite so fortunate.

Summer passed and the following seasons had been kinder to them so far, but the damage was already done. Most of what little savings they'd had became payment to repair the damages the unforgiving storm had inflicted on them, and salvage their small plots of land that represented their main source of income and subsistence. They, that used to be so fruitful and green, now were all infertiles and sad.

"I already read the inform that Suzuki presented me... I could probably explain the whole situation to you, but I think it's better that you see for yourselves the precariousness in which we currently find ourselves."

One by one, Shinji started handing out some dossiers that he had carefully prepared that same morning before leaving home, since he had predicted that an emergency meeting could occur given the pressing bad news he carried. Now, with the exception of himself and Kamiya-san, none of the present were particulary well-versed in economics and finances, but Shinji had made sure to made them easy to understand for everyone.

But when he made his way to Tanaka Chiasa, the girl refused gently, with a shameful flush covering her neck and her youthful face.

"I don't know how to read, Suzuki-san."

"Ah," was the simple, one-word-alone answer.

One probably couldn't tell with such a simple response, but internally Shinji did feel ashamed of himself. Akako had mentioned at least once a little kitchen girl that didn't know how to read, but he had honestly forgotten about it until now. He silently made a mental note: to make time to teach Chiasa how to read and write as soon as possible.

He did give her a slight smile though. "That's okay. Come, I will explain it to you." 

And to avoid her embarrassment of everyone watching him reading and explaining everything to her aloud, he gently took her to a small love-seat in the furthest corner, talking about revenue and taxes in soft whispers.

It only took another hour or so for everyone to read, assimilate the information that had been provided, and ask questions to clear doubts. No one was truly surprised but everyone was worried.

And although no one did accuse her of anything, if anyone asked, Akako would admit that part of the blame that things had gotten to this point laid in her. It's not like she had known of the state of. How could she be? She was the one who controlled all the economy within the institution.

But she had been more worried in treading water, without thinking in the tomorrow, without seeing a detailed overview of the situation on her own's accord, and hoping that somehow things weren't quite as bad as they looked.

What a pathetic and immature way of behaving and thinking, but that's what she had hoped for. But now, Shinji's meticulous financial report had forced her to see what she, -for months-, hadn't wanted to see.

"I just wanted to warn you ... so that no one will be caught off guard by this. Or in case any of you want to quit or start looking for work elsewhere..." she declared with honesty.

Some nodded, though doubtfully. Others frowned in disgust. And others couldn't simply hide their distress at the idea of potentially losing their jobs. Chiasa was one of them, even letting go a few tears that travelled through her face at snail's pace. That did not go unnoticed by Kaito, one of the recently-hired caregivers, who tracked the tears in the girl's cheeks unblinkingly.

"Are you sure there's nothing we can't do? Kamiya-san, you-"

Akako interrupted Kaito before he possibly launched into a diatribe of things she already knew. "I did think in organizing a kermesse, maybe several of them, as we have done before. It's unlikely we would make any worthwhile amount of money from it, but perhaps it would buy us enough time to plan our next steps.

"Why do you think we aren't gonna make any money from it? Who knows, maybe this time we're gonna get lucky and lots of people willing to donate will come!" Chiasa declared childishly with a forced smile and a loud voice, both so out of tone with the still cooling tears in her face.