THEY WILL CALL HER 'OLD WOMAN'.

In the nights of Konoha, stillness reigns, forced by ignorance and fueled by fear. Nights in Konoha were a privilege reserved for those civilians oblivious to the heat of battle, an opportunity to immerse themselves in restful sleep.

Perhaps for some they were beautiful nights, where men and women could close their eyes and let themselves be carried away by nightly dreams. But for others, peace was only an ephemeral illusion, and closing one's eyes meant facing one's own demons.

This night, as cold as the last, was enveloped in an almost palpable silence, which was unsettling. The accusing looks, full of terror, pierced the mind like arrows shot from a destructive bow.

Children, women, and animals watched in hopes of finding comfort. Debris could have fallen on them, crushing their bodies and reducing them to nothing; The ribs could have been exposed as the concrete pillars crumbled on what were once innocent beings. Those looks would always remain etched in the memory of those who survived the Konoha tragedy.

Surviving was an achievement, doing it with friends was a blessing, but abandoning those who could not move only served to increase the weight of guilt and horror.

In the darkest corners of Konoha's small apartments and most forgotten streets, the cold air mingled with fear, enveloping the creatures that dwelt there in an atmosphere of hopelessness.

Within the walls of this modest hearth, which acted not only as a defense against intruders, but also as silent witnesses to the stories told in barely audible whispers, three figures were gathered around a single candle on the wooden table.

In the dim light, the gazes of those present met, revealing a complicity that had been forged in arguments held in whispers during the hours when the children slept.

But beyond all that passed through the minds of the two ANBU and the Genin, one figure remained in the shadows, barely visible beyond the dim light cast by the candle.

From his position, he could only make out the back of the youngest of the group, whom he knew well enough to call her a "friend." The shadows barely allowed him to glimpse the figure of Sumire, whose back stood like a wall that hindered his attempt to observe.

Himawari, his small body almost fused to the wall that served as his shield, hardly dared to poke his head out, aware that any false movement could betray his presence. He knew, thanks to his parents' teachings, that no ninja should be underestimated, even if he seemed not to pay attention.

Despite her discretion, Himawari realized that even someone as incredibly formidable as her father could be defeated by someone with her luck. To live or die, he realized, depended not only on training or lineage, but also on fortune.

When his father was Himawari's age, he was considered little more than a nobody. From the moment of his birth, he was seen as a nuisance by the world. However, it was his determination and desire to protect his friends that ultimately earned him the respect of the entire Shinobi community.

But in the end, in the twilight of a stormy day, his father, the son of the Fourth Hokage and a descendant of the Uzumaki bloodline, was defeated on the battlefield.

Himawari curled up in his hiding place, holding back a gasp as he swallowed. His fingers trembled as they barely brushed the wall.

"We no longer have a choice." He heard Ro, the ANBU, whisper, clearly intent not to wake the children in the next room. "It's our only way out, there's no alternative."

"Oh yes? And what do you suggest we do to achieve this?" The ANBU woman replied, also in a whisper. "We can't expect anything from this place. The Hokage has already made its decision; We must not waste any more time in discussions."

"What are you implying, Hinoko?!" The scandalized whisper seemed to cool the atmosphere even more. 

From that moment on, Himawari could not hear any more. She was overwhelmed with despair and helplessness. The meeting, which was intended to be discreet, was beginning to slip out of their hands. Little Uzumaki could no longer bear to be plunged into the darkness of uncertainty. Just a week ago, things were difficult, but at least they were different.

Himawari slid his fingers along the wall, as a last contact with the meeting that was taking place in a corner of the apartment. Cautiously not to make a sound, he headed for the widest part of the place: the only room.

Inside, his friends were scattered on the floor, covered with blankets and pillows. Without beds, this was the only way to sleep under a warm roof.

He stopped, allowing his feet to stand next to each other. Like a soulless body, his eyes were coldly staring into nothingness.

To contemplate this scene, to live this life, to begin like this. They were simply resting at the expense of the death of others.

Many of his friends never managed to graduate from the academy. Others waited for Himawari, who never arrived, and unknowingly, they were saved unlike the companions with whom they shared a room on many occasions.

What did it mean to be a ninja? Now that was questioned.

The image of his father's back, waving the Hokage's cloak, was clearly etched into his mind as he formulated the thought.

What was the point of being a ninja if something would always go wrong in the end?

"I think that considering that possibility could also be a good option."

Down the short hallway of the apartment, he could hear the soft voice of the violet-haired Genin. Himawari looked over his shoulder, as if he could see the meeting through the walls.

The snoring and moaning of her friends, caught in nightmares, filled the space as Sumire cleared things up at the table.

The silence that followed was proof of the disagreement between the two Anbu.

"Everything is an option now." Sumire said. "We don't know how many survived out there. But we must do our part while they do their job."

Himawari's feet moved carefully. He crouched in the same place where he had been before, and concentrated so as not to miss any detail of the conversation.

She opened her eyes, attentive to visualize everything in her mind. He had captured information that had piqued his interest.

"There will be serious trouble if the people in this Konoha suspect us!" Hinoko could barely contain his whispered cry, tightening his throat. "Old Shikamaru wouldn't want that."

"You don't understand, Hinoko." The woman crossed her arms as Ro continued. "We don't know how long it will take. Besides, you and I know the danger out there."

"..."

Himawari joined the cold, ominous silence that filled the apartment. A heat accumulated on the sides of his head up to the back of his neck. The wait was brief, but Ro's words seemed to take years to reach his ears.

Finally, the voice of the Anbu returned, calmer than before.

"Our comrades who have survived are in danger there. If something happens to them, we will have no choice but to turn to Konoha in some way. It doesn't matter if they find out about us or not: This peace is temporary. It's only a matter of time before this reaches the ears of the Hokage."

"I know that." Hinoko reproached him in a whisper. 

"Then why are you opposed?!"

"You two..."

Sumire's intervention did not calm the protests.

"Hinoko!"

"I'm not like him." Anbu's voice sounded looser now, releasing the words she had previously contained. "That old man... If he had trusted us, we could have avoided all this. I won't make the mistake of hindering things only to have Konoha act in his favor without knowing it. They don't understand..."

Hinoko's tone seemed pleading, a departure from his usual attitude, as if he was seeking understanding.

The silence that followed gave him time to reflect. Although none of those present could see her thoughts, she thought of the children who had been summoned outside of Konoha.

"If we act now..." He began, shrinking in his seat, and staring into space with a worried expression. "The children who are with us... Who will protect them?"

"…"

"..."

"They can barely hold a Kunai." He added, noting the lack of response from his classmates. "We will be absent most of the time, not knowing what could happen to them. Is it safe to leave them alone for that long?"

Himawari felt a deep sigh. It was Ro's, who understood his partner's feelings, but was determined not to be selfish with people who were unaware of the impending danger.

"And you, Hinoko." He continued. This time, his calm tone attracted the Anbu woman's gaze. "Are you willing to ruin millions of children?"

Hinoko held back a gasp, almost slapping the table with his hands if not for Sumire's quick gesture, who put her arm around the woman's chest as a sign to stop.

Sumire was worried. His gaze went straight to the man who was speaking.

Himawari curled up even more in his hiding place.

"You'll be...! I never said that!" Hinoko defended himself. 

"In a way, that's what you're implying." Ro replied. "As long as we stand idly by, we'll be fine. But once danger arrives and we know it, it will be too late to protect Konoha."

"That..."

"You know that, Hinoko." Ro reminded him, with regret in his tone. "Me too. You and I, on Shikamaru-san's orders, have to help Sumire-chan come under the spotlight. You promised Shikamaru-san."

Sumire looked for explanations, she was paralyzed. At this moment, he could do nothing but listen, with an expression of astonishment.

"The priority now is to protect Konoha." Ro's voice dispersed like steam through the apartment, in contrast to the silence that Hinoko had wasted. "Let's continue with the discussion. If there was a meeting of the high command, then the clock is ticking."

"Oh yes, that's the best thing..." Sumire joined in the calm tone. With a grimace that tried to reflect seriousness and tranquility, he addressed the woman who was biting his lower lip. "Isn't that so? Continue..."

At the scene, there were no more words that Himawari could distinguish as audible or as roots of information. He went blank, staring at the floor and his bangs darkening his face.

"There are more survivors... But they'll give their lives out there so that we're okay."

With that idea repeating in his head, Himawari slowly rose from his hiding place. The possibility that his brother was alive was a bit high, considering how important he was for being the son of the Hokage.

He knew full well that she hadn't been saved by her exceptional skills with paper and scissors.

The murmurs behind him were fading, now forming part of a rather alien reality. Himawari couldn't deal with that thought, with that reality.

He had lost his parents, and the last thing he wanted was to lose his brother. Perhaps he was alive, but his fate was already sealed, and perhaps they would never see each other again.

Making his way through the lumps under the covers, Himawari found a corner of his own to sleep in the room.

Not even sleeping was a comforting option for her.

In his mind, memories of his brother appeared. He remembered all those times when, as a child, Boruto refused to sleep in a bed without blankets or on a futon without the pillows he preferred.

But Boruto had changed before his eyes since he became a Ninja. I was no longer as picky about where to sleep, as on missions they often had to lie down outdoors. He also didn't complain so much about the food, because he understood the importance of being well fed on a long mission.

However, now he wondered about it.

How good would Ninja's life be from his brother, knowing that he might never come home?