Chrysanthemum
Even as the days passed, the field where Minato and Kushina had fallen remained untouched by time. The soft blue forget-me-nots and bachelor’s buttons continued to bloom, their delicate petals unmoved by wind or rain. No one dared disturb them. The villagers whispered about it, about the strange power that had awakened in the youngest Namikaze that night. Some called it a miracle. Others called it a curse.
Hanako didn’t care what they called it.
She didn’t leave the house for days.
Their house.
The house Minato had built with his own hands, where Kushina had filled the kitchen with warmth and laughter, where they had prepared a nursery for Naruto, who would never see his parents’ smiles.
Every corner was haunted with memories, with echoes of voices she would never hear again. The scent of Kushina’s favorite tea still lingered in the cupboards. Minato’s coat still hung by the door, untouched.
Hanako sat in Naruto’s nursery for hours, staring at the paper cranes she had folded for him before he was born. She traced the edges with her fingers, remembering how she had wanted to welcome her nephew into the world with love, with family.
Now, he was alone. Or at least, that’s what the village believed.
They wouldn’t even let her see him. The audacity really. She laughed bitterly. Despite being his only living family, the Sandaime had placed Naruto in the orphanage under a false identity, hiding his connection to the Yondaime. Hanako had screamed at him, her voice raw with grief and fury. The hokage's office was a mess.
“He’s my nephew! He has family! Why are you leaving him there?!”
Hiruzen had looked tired, guilty—but firm. “For his safety, Hanako. The village is still recovering. There are those who would wish him harm.”
“Then let me take care of him! I promised Minato, I promised Kushina—”
“You are fourteen,” he reminded her gently. “You are still a child yourself.”
Hanako had clenched her fists so tightly her nails cut into her palms. “I don’t care. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll work. I’ll study. I’ll—”
“You are not strong enough to protect him.”
The words cut deeper than she expected.
Not a kunoichi. Not a fighter. Not a protector.
Only a girl with a forgotten bloodline and a power she barely understood.
She wasn’t enough. Not yet.
Kakashi came by often after that night. He never said much, but he was there.
Sometimes, he would bring food, though neither of them had much appetite. Sometimes, he would just sit with her in silence, both of them haunted by the same loss. Other times, she would wake from nightmares, only to find him already standing outside her window, as if he had known.
Once, she caught him in Minato’s study, sitting at the desk, staring at a half-written letter their sensei had never finished.
Neither of them spoke.
He just folded the letter carefully and put it away.
One night, when the grief was too heavy, Hanako finally whispered, “Why are you still here?”
Kakashi didn’t answer immediately.
Then, softly, he said, “Because you told me not to leave.”
Hanako looked at him, at the exhaustion in his single visible eye, at the weight of guilt he carried.
“…I meant it,” she murmured.
Kakashi exhaled, something between a laugh and a sigh. He reached out and ruffled her hair, just like Minato used to.
“I know.”
And in that quiet understanding, something fragile yet unbreakable formed between them.
A promise. A family.
Hanako wasn’t allowed to raise Naruto. Not yet.
But she could prepare.
She threw herself into studying—business, numbers, culinary arts. She honed her knowledge, determined to build the life she had always wanted. But she also trained in secret, trying to understand the Namikaze bloodline that had awakened within her.
The flowers responded to her emotions, to her will. She learned how to calm them, how to guide them. The vines that had once curled in grief now grew with purpose.
She was not a shinobi.
But she would be strong in her own way.
She would build a place for Naruto to come home to.
And when the time was right—when she was ready—she would bring him home.
Because no matter what the village said, no matter what fate had stolen from them—
Naruto was not alone.
And he never would be.