The Things We Bury

The night of the Nine Tails would go down as one of the most devastating nights in history for the Village Hidden in the Leaves. Fathers ripped from their family, mothers slaughtered in cold blood, and the cries of children ringing out like gunshots; horrible, piercing, unforgettable.

And it only lasted three hours. A measly three hours to change the lives of hundreds, forever.

Five of those lives belonged to the Genji Family, descendants of the Senju Clan.

-

“Rock-a-bye baby on the tree tops. . .”

Yumi hums softly, bouncing her younger sister up and down on her leg but rather than nodding off, Akira squeals with pure delight at each bump, clapping her little hands together for more.

The subdued melody and occasional squeaks are the only sounds in the Genji household, besides the crackling of the hearth.

It is a quiet night—the two sisters cuddled up on the family rocking chair, their brother sitting cross legged by the fireplace and mother knitting away in her favorite recliner, a half finished scarf so that baby Akira can match the family’s collection.

A particularly loud shriek of glee finally gets Jun to look up from his woodblock that he had been systematically chipping away at for the past hour.

“Quit bouncing her. You’re just riling her up,” he says, annoyance tinting his voice. “and she’ll be all cranky in the morning if you keep her up for any longer.”

Yumi pulls a face at him. “Someone’s just mad that I’m her favorite.”

“Whatever,” Jun rolls his eyes. “Just don’t come crying to me when she’s wailing your ear off tomorrow.”

“Hey!” Yumi says defensively, covering Akira’s ears to shield her from the offending comment. “She’s getting better. She’s barely cried for a whole week now.”

Akira whines at the touch and Jun smirks.

“Oh yes. Besides at breakfast and lunch on Monday, during bath time on Wednesday, four times on Thursday, and dare I even mention Friday?”

Their mother, Hana, sighs from her recliner. Sometimes she loved having two well-spoken children, for being five and six years old that is. Especially when she wanted to show off in front of the other parents. Right now, however, it was just downright annoying.

“Jun be nice to your sister,” Hana says sternly. “and quit getting your wood shavings on my nice carpet.”

Yumi laughs as Jun begrudgingly starts picking up his mess but quickly sobers up when the attention is turned on her, “And you, Yumi. Seriously. Put your sister down so she can go to bed.”

Her face falls dramatically and she pulls her baby sister close to her chest. “Dad’s not home yet and you know he likes to say goodnight to Kira.”

Hana’s eyes soften at the mention of her husband.

“Fine,” she gives in. “She can stay up but only until your dad gets home. Then you have to put her straight to bed, no complaints or excuses.”

Yumi cheers and continues to bounce Akira, whose little hands have now found their way around a colorful rattle.

“You hear that?” Yumi whispers, “You get to stay up with big sister tonight!”

Akira babbles back, shaking her rattle with glee, and Yumi’s grin widens.

And even though Jun had groaned when their mother gave in to Yumi’s pleas, a smile tugged at his own lips. Secretly he was glad his little sister was awake, if only to break the tense silence that blanketed their house in their father, Enyo’s absence.

The old man was on patrol that night. He was meant to be off duty but another jonin had called in sick and, being too nice for his own good, Enyo had offered to take his place. However, he should have been back by now, his shift having ended a half hour ago.

Hana shifted in her seat. The night was stretching out much longer than she was comfortable with.

She had been on edge since Enyo had closed the door behind him. She was always on edge when he was out of her sight. He could be the strongest ninja in the world and she would still fret when he wasn't around. But tonight, especially. Something felt wrong and the tension only increased as the minutes trickled by.

His portion of pasta had gone cold on the stove.

Yumi didn’t notice her mother’s discomfort, too preoccupied with a giggling Akira, who of course couldn’t sense it herself, being a baby.

Jun did.

“Dad will be back,” he says softly, his eyes searching for his mom’s. “You know he always comes home. Even if it is late and covered in soot.”

Hana lets out a short laugh at the memory of the last time her husband came home from a late night patrol, trudging through the door, covered from head to toe in soot after taking a wrong turn right into a chimney that he insisted ought to be a safety hazard with how: “unnecessarily large it was, seriously who needs a chimney that fat”.

“He always does come home, doesn’t he?” She hums, returning to her knitting. The hearth continues to crackle, blanketing the house in warmth, and she lets her own smile escape from previously pursed lips.

Sadly all good things must come to an end.

The temporary peace that follows his reassurance stretches on for a few more seconds. Just enough time for her to finish two more stitches.

Then, snap.

The world explodes.

A roar tears through the silent night, terrible, beastly, and screams are quick to follow. Screams that signal nothing short of pure terror as something, some monster, begins crashing through the village. The ground trembles under the weight of its steps and Hana’s blood runs cold.

Enyo, Enyo, Enyo; Oh Kami.

Yumi and Jun’s eyes widen and Akira’s babble fades into silence as what little noise supported the house collapses in on itself. A chill blows out the fire.

Akira shivers.

Then Hana’s voice breaks. “You father,” she says, already out of her seat, knitting thrown to the side. Her tone is uncharacteristically frightened as she continues “I need to go find your father” and for a moment, it is unclear of whether she is speaking to the kids or to herself.

Yumi and Jun stand frozen with shock.

However, when Hana opens her arms, the two snap out of their daze and rush towards her.

“Please don’t go mommy,” Yumi murmurs, resting her head on her mother’s shoulders and Hana can’t remember the last time her daughter called her that. She had secretly hoped she would hear her say it again one day. Just not like this.

Jun doesn’t say a word but his small frame trembles violently against Hana and she hugs her children even closer, if possible.

“I have to. I have to go, it’s your dad,” Hana says, her heart crumbling as she tries to commit her children's warmth to memory. “But I promise, we’ll both be home by morning, okay? And I’ll make flapjacks. I'll even let you watch TV with your breakfast.”

“What about lunch?” Jun finally speaks. His eyes are ladened with fear.

Hana ruffles his hair. “Lunch too, you little bargainer. I promise and you know, I never break my promises.”

He extends a wavering pinky and she links her own around it.

A weak reassurance, but one, nonetheless. Jun nods weakly and Yumi’s shoulders relax in the slightest. Their mother did have a pristine track record when it came to promises, after all, especially the ones involving a pinky.

Hana tries her best to avoid looking at her children, as she holds them dear to her chest for just one more minute that she wills into eternity. Because, if she looks down, she fears she will never let go, and then, she does.

“Be good, be brave, and remember, Mommy loves you and is proud of you, no matter what.” Hana says, pressing kisses against Yumi and Jun’s temple. Then she leans forward and presses one last kiss on Akira’s forehead. “Even you, you little freeloader.”

Akira giggles at the light touch, unaware that the world is ending, and Hana can feel her heart crumble.

She swiftly rises and turns to the door, away from three pairs of unblinking, round eyes. She can’t look back; She can’t. If she did, she would never be able to leave but if Enyo died without her that night—she would never be able to live.

Call her selfish as she left the house, left her three children, call her whatever you want. Hana Genji only learned how to love using everything she had and to continue a life without the man, who first taught her how to do so, it was a fate worse than death itself. She could only hope her children would forgive her for breaking her first promise.

-

Akira's scarf gets thrown out, two weeks later.