Silence (kakanaru)

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto

Warnings: More flashbacks, descriptive violence, gore, etc.

Hisato opened his eyes to a dirty old ceiling. His breathing was swift and shallow, and his hands dripped with cold sweat. He panted, trying to slow down his heart and regain control over his wayward emotions.

Despair drifted on the approaching horizon, bringing with it a new day among the company of people he long thought of as dead. He pushed down on his grief and swung his legs around to the floor. The room was just beginning to fill with light.

He cleared himself of dirt and grime for the first time in over a week. His clothes were newly cleaned; long, forest green scarf that covered his neck and up to his mouth; loose, rusty orange shirt with sleeves that ran down to his wrists; black shinobi pants and sandals, taped at the shin; and his hair. stayed in a lengthy braid against his back.

His new apartment held two rooms, a standard bathroom and open living. The kitchen was yet to be stocked with food and the apartment itself was bare of any personalisation. Hisato ran through design plans and a shopping list.

He set to cleaning the apartment after breakfast.

.................

Hisato spent the morning wandering around Konoha and absorbing all the sights. Everyone seemed light and cheery, full of something that he had not seen for years. Buildings were intact, not charred, not leaving behind a sea of burning embers.

A smile almost twitched on his face but Sakura's death lingered in his mind and etched for his attention. He turned away. Hisato's hands shook at his side, clenched into tight fists. It was an aftereffect of the war. Though he could stay hidden and unmoving when he needed to, they never ceased their trembling. Only when he worked on his seals did they stay steady.

Warm chakra spiked nearby. He glanced to the side. Kakashi had his face in Icha Icha Paradise, shoulders in their usual lazy slouch. The jounin didn't mutter a greeting.

They went on in silence, down the streets with no clear destination. It was a relaxing break. Hisato preferred it like this. He didn't have to use his shaky hands to sign, didn't have to listen and respond. Two antisocial shinobi together simply basking in the ease of the other's company.

Hisato let his mind wander. There were so many enemies out there, so many targets. Kill them and they cannot wreak a war upon the land. But kill them and he takes lives.

In his life as Naruto Uzumaki, he had gained a nickname through his brutal missions. He had staged massacres, killed thousands. Innocents, too. And because of that, people called him the Shinigami, the Death God. They feared him. They hated him and wished for his death. His hands are red, always red. He cannot see clean hands, for they weren't clean. And he hated that, hated himself.

Kakashi seemed to recognise the sudden melancholy, and glanced at Hisato. The redhead held such inner turmoil, but he paid it no heed, and kept his face blank. He kept the emotions off his face like he had for many years. To let them see is to hurt them as well. To let them see, is to let them know his weaknesses. They would only try to help, but he didn't want help, he wanted silence.

Kakashi turned away, and Hisato inwardly sighed in relief. He couldn't let his emotions hinder him from his goal.

The two had somehow ended up at Ichiraku Ramen. He composed himself as they walked in and sat at the bar. No one else had come in, and surprisingly, there was no little Naruto here for breakfast. He almost let a frown cross his face at that.

"What will you be ordering?" Kakashi's voice cut into his pondering. Hisato grabbed a menu and looked for the miso. He pointed to it so the Hatake could see.