Forget-me-Nots
The scent of blood clung to the air.
Hanako ran, her legs burning, her breath ragged. The weight in her chest grew heavier with each step, pressing against her ribs like an iron hand. The closer she got to the battlefield, the stronger the feeling became—a hollow, crushing emptiness.
She knew what it meant.
She had felt it before.
The night her parents died, something inside her had screamed in warning, an unbearable sense of dread twisting in her gut. That same feeling had returned tonight, but stronger. It had nearly knocked her to her knees when she felt him—her brother—fade.
Now, she was running.
The earth beneath her feet was uneven, torn apart by the battle, but she barely noticed. Smoke and dust filled the air, but her vision remained clear. Her body moved on instinct, fueled by desperation.
Then she reached the clearing.
And the world stopped.
Minato and Kushina lay motionless, their bodies illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. The deep, gaping wound in their stomachs—where the Kyuubi had impaled them—looked too large, too unreal. For a moment, her mind refused to accept what her eyes were seeing.
They weren’t moving.
Not breathing.
And nestled between them, wrapped in a torn blanket, was a baby with golden hair and bright blue eyes, wailing into the night.
Naruto.
Hanako staggered forward. She didn’t hear her own scream—only the sound of her heart pounding, shattering.
She collapsed beside them, hands shaking as she reached out, as if she could still pull them back, as if this was just some cruel dream.
“Minato… Kushina…” Her voice cracked. She swallowed back a sob, but it escaped anyway.
They were cold.
Her hands trembled as she touched her brother’s face, searching for warmth that wasn’t there. She tried to hold onto Kushina’s hand, but her fingers wouldn’t stop shaking.
Her vision blurred, tears falling freely. The world around her faded—until she heard a voice.
“…Hanako.”
She turned, blinking through her tears.
Kakashi stood at the edge of the clearing, his hitai-ate slightly askew, his visible eye wide with horror. He looked lost. His breathing was ragged, his body covered in dirt and blood, as if he had fought his way here.
But it was too late.
He stumbled forward, his knees hitting the ground beside her. His gaze flickered from Minato to Kushina, and then to Naruto, still crying, his tiny hands grasping at nothing.
Then, just as suddenly, Kakashi fell apart.
His hands curled into fists against the dirt, his shoulders shaking. He didn’t make a sound, but Hanako knew—he was crying too.
The pain was unbearable.
She turned back to Naruto, her fingers brushing against his tiny hand. His cries quieted slightly at her touch, as if he could feel her presence, as if he somehow knew her.
She lifted him carefully, cradling him against her chest. His body was small, warm—alive.
Minato and Kushina had died protecting him.
Her brother, who had raised her.
Her sister-in-law, who had loved her like family.
They were gone. But Naruto… Naruto was here.
She pressed her forehead against his, her tears falling onto his tiny face. “I’m so sorry, Naruto,” she whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Kakashi suddenly moved, his arms wrapping around her and Naruto both, holding them close. His grip was tight, like he was afraid they would disappear too.
Hanako buried her face against his shoulder. “Don’t leave me too, Kakashi,” she choked out. “You’re all I have left. We’re all we have left.”
Kakashi didn’t answer. He just held them tighter.
And as they grieved, the earth responded.
Soft blue flowers began to bloom around them—forget-me-nots.
They sprouted gently from the torn battlefield, their delicate petals untouched by fire or blood. The vines that emerged did not suffocate, did not bind, but instead grew in gentle curves around Minato and Kushina, weaving them into a cradle of blossoms.
Bachelor’s buttons, the flower of remembrance, rested gently atop their chests.
The last farewell nature could offer.
….
The Sandaime arrived soon after, but Hanako barely registered his presence. His sharp inhale, his murmured words of grief—all of it faded into background noise.
When the ANBU tried to take Naruto from her arms, she refused.
She tightened her hold on him, her expression fierce through the tears. “Don’t,” she warned, voice hoarse. “Don’t take him from me.”
The ANBU hesitated. Even Hiruzen paused.
Because the flowers still bloomed.
Because the vines still curled gently around Minato and Kushina, untouched by death.
Because Hanako’s right eye—once bright blue—now held a swirling pink flower pattern, and a soft vine tattoo had spread beneath it, marking the return of an ancient power long thought extinct.