Chapter 5: The Goodbye

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or any of its characters.

Warning: child abuse and bullying (mostly mentions of it), some dark themes, too much fluffiness sometimes. A real rollercoaster (or, at least, it's supposed to be).

Author's note:

I'm sorry it took so long to update, but Word didn't want to open (urgh!). My classes start tomorrow, but I'll try to post another chapter as soon as possible. Thanks for the support, people, it means a lot to me.

Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter V:

The Goodbye

"Motherhood is the greatest thing and the hardest thing."

Ricki Lake

Cancer.

For all its absolute madness and incredible possibilities, this world was flawed.

I must say – there is something impressive in the way that your heart keeps beating inside your chest, strong, unwilling to give up, even after your mind has just stopped.

It wasn't like when Dad died, a few months short of it having happened three years ago. My tears didn't dry up as if shocked into silence this time. As soon as I heard the medic's words, I started sobbing. I had been sobbing earlier too.

I felt Minato's hand encircling my head, pulling me into his arms. His chest was trembling, but I didn't try to look at his face. If I saw his expression, I'd be too scared to move on. I needed someone strong in my life, even if it seemed selfish of me to keep believing him to be invincible.

He was muttering something in my ear, but I couldn't hear it – didn't want to hear it.

I should try not to be bitter about this kind of situation. Really, it would make things a lot easier if my heart didn't squeeze itself to death every time this sour lump took place in my throat.

"Kumi," Minato murmured. He kept repeating my name over and over again, I noticed.

Why did Mother die? Why did Dad die? Why did Mom… She couldn't be sick. Not this sick. Were all my mother figures destined to die from cancer? Would my next mother, in my possible next life, die of it too?

The world is an unfair place.

The realization hit me so suddenly that my knees gave out and I'd be on the ground had it not been for my brother's arms.

I had known everything about unfairness in my last lifetime. The past "me" didn't suffer from hunger, diseases or cold like many others had. It was psychological madness, suffocating loneliness.

But I had allowed myself to soften – to forget about hardships. I had perceived this world as a big opportunity, instead of seeing it for what it truly was: real life. In real life, you don't always have a happy ending or inspiring beginnings. There were struggles, and pain, and hurt.

Why had I forgotten this?

"What are you doing, Mom?" I asked the weak woman lying on the bed.

It was hard to believe that only two weeks had passed since I found her unconscious in the kitchen. She had been smiling that day, blond hair flowing around her face and lips curving into lines of perfect happiness.

She looked up from the piece of paper she had been writing over her food tray. I couldn't help but notice her beautiful was her smile, despite the bags under her eyes and unnatural paleness of her skin. I had overheard the doctor and Minato's conversation a few days earlier. Apparently, ninjas were much less inclined to develop cancer or any fatal diseases that somehow didn't involve chakra. Shinobi, through their training of said energy, were made of much sturdier material.

If only Mom was a ninja.

"I'm doing something meant to you and Minato," Mom whispered, as if it was a secret.

Her words startled me, though.

"I-It's not a will, is it?!"

Her chiming bells laugh calmed my beating heart.

"Of course not, sweetie," she assured me. "I'm planning a picnic to celebrate when I get better, so this is my list of food."

I put my hand over her leg as, since I was sitting on the end of her bed, it was closer to me than her hand.

"Can I see what you wrote? I'll buy it."

"Nope," was her cheerful response. "I want it to be a surprise. Don't tell Minato."

If her smile faltered for a moment, I pretended not to notice. I liked the picnic story too.

I ducked the spinning kick that Kihito directed at my head. My body was on autopilot, the regimen Minato had put together for me paying off. I put my hand on the ground before even realizing I'd done so and let my feet rotate in the air, until they connected with the Sarutobi's stomach. It was like dancing.

"That was a good one, Kumi-chan!" Ren congratulated me on my rare victory against Kihito. "Did you think it yourself?"

I nodded, not very enthusiastic about the whole thing. I had been searching for a Taijutsu stance desperately, wanting to distract my head from depressing thoughts. Though I had yet to tell anyone, I thought my decision had come to an end already.

I snapped out of my musings when a hand fell over my head – not hitting it or patting it, just resting. My eyes followed the arm and I saw Chitarō's face inches over mine.

"Huh?"

"We took you outside to relax a little, Kumi," he commented. I was just grateful that he hadn't said something silly like try to have some fun. I didn't feel like laughing.

"Sorry, it's just…" I stopped. I couldn't say it and Chitarō knew what I was talking about anyway.

Minato had forced me to get out of the hospital this weekend. The only hours I didn't spend there were during school hours and sleeping hours. He worried about my health if I stayed an entire night in the hospital, so he also made me go to the Nara's residence with Chitarō and Shikaku's invitation. Very reluctantly, I made my way to one of my best friend's house every day, wondering if Mom would still be there when I visited her before the Academy started.

I was juggling training, homework, friends and hospital visits every day. My grades were slipping and I got tired easily. I could tell that my brother and friends were worried about me, but I couldn't bring myself to stop pondering over Mom's situation.

The medic had given her four more months with treatment, which cut very close to Minato's graduation. I told him that I couldn't simply stay such a long time at the Nara's residence and would go back home soon. Most of the time, he ignored my logic.

Tsume's companion, Kuromaru, started barking.

"Eh, what is it, Kuromaru?" Said owner asked confusedly, sniffing the air to identify the supposed threat.

As we were in the park near my house, we weren't overly worried about who was approaching our not-so-visible hiding spot. However, Ren still took one step closer to Mikoto and Chitarō's hand fell from my head to my shoulder. Kihito tensed.

"Kumi-chan!" A voice called, startling us out of our silence. "Kumi-chan!"

I recognized Shiranui Airi's slightly high-pitched voice. She was my neighbor and had been so since I was a baby. Despite having a toddler at home and a husband who constantly went on missions, she still took her time to cook for us dinner and leave it at the hospital for me and Minato.

"Airi-oba-san?" I called back, unsure at her tone. She sounded somewhat desperate.

I ran out of our secluded spot, finding her near the swings. When I was younger, I hadn't connected her brown hair and surname with Shinarui Genma, the future senbon-user Tokubetsu Jōnin, but now that the kid was born, it was easy to see their similarity.

"Kumi-chan," she replied, relieved, when her eyes encountered mine. Her much bigger hand took mine and I frowned when her trembling fingers curled around my wrist. "Minato-kun asked to find you – your mother's condition has worsened."

My heart skipped a beat and I wondered how many times it could do that in such a short span of time before it stopped indefinitely.

"Wha–"

I stopped asking, because my rapidly growing tears were choking me.

My friends finally appeared, out of breath. Funny. I hadn't noticed how far away the swings were from our spot. I was panting too, but not for the same reason.

Ren took my other hand, getting my attention. I guess I was spacing out. Or fainting. The edges of my vision were darkening.

"Kumi-chan," he urged. "Move."

I thanked Airi-oba-san, but I didn't sound grateful. She probably didn't mind – her 'You're welcome' didn't sound as cheerful as usual too.

I was usually faster than my friends, even with less stamina. This time, however, they stayed in front of me all the way to the hospital and were gasping for air for much longer than I was.

The aisles of the hospital were light and clear, even though my mind was drowning in bad thoughts. The birds were chirping outside and it seemed unfair that today was such a sunny day.

Nobody tried to stop us – be it because of our desperate expression, be it because nobody had the time before we passed the nurses too fast for them to catch us. I only stopped when room 202 came into view.

The door was closed.

Minato was sitting on a chair in the corridor, his head resting on his hands. I stopped in my tracks and my pulse was the only sound roaring in my ears. I was used to seeing my brother composed – he was hard to anger and easy to befriend. Sitting there – with his heels barely touching the ground, his shoulders hunched in weariness – I was reminded of how young he really was.

The scene gave me a feeling of numbness – not peace, for I wasn't feeling relieved. I went closer to him, noticing how I was practically the same height as his sitting form. Minato looked up and I frowned at his eyes. They were softening and hardening at the same time, as if trying to be stronger at my sudden appearance.

"Onii-chan," I greeted and, though it sounded empty, I was relieved it also sounded calm.

His arms went around my waist, clutching me closer. A few minutes earlier, had I not seen his tired form, I'd say he did this because he wanted to assure me that everything would be okay. Now I knew he did that because he wanted to calm himself.

"Mii-chan," he replied, trying to smile.

I looked over my shoulders, searching for my friends, but they had given us privacy, disappearing into other corridors. Minato followed my glance.

"Did you come with someone?"

I nodded, "Un. But they must have gone home already," was my answer. I wasn't saying the truth. Minato knew I wasn't saying the truth. But we didn't call out on my lie. It was easier to think that my group of friends weren't waiting somewhere in the hospital, worried about our situation. It was easier to think we didn't have a situation at all.

Door 202 glared at us from the other side of the aisle.

"Airi-oba-san said you were searching for me," I said after a few minutes of silence. "She said Mom's condition…"

I stopped. Not only because I couldn't say it, but also because Minato's shoulders started shaking. His eyes found mine and I was unsurprised at the gleaming blue orbs I found. Technically speaking, my mentality was that of a 23-year-old man. Which meant that I should be able to handle some hours of waiting for the – bad or good – news. Observing Minato's nine-year-old eyes was the most nerve-wrecking experience since I was born in this world.

"Yeah," my older brother – my always strong and kind older brother – managed to choke out. He gathered me up in his arms, sitting me on his laps and burying his face in my hair. "Yeah."

If his eyes were red and my hair was wet ten minutes later, we didn't comment on it.

I was packing my things back into my bag when Chitarō's father stopped on the doorway. Like any Nara, his hair was tied in ponytail and his dark eyes were sharp. Shikaku's face was lot like his father, but Chitarō's had more traces of their mother Suzume, including her freckles.

"Going back home, Kumi-kun?" Nara Shikato questioned. He was the only one who called me –kun.

I nodded and turned in his direction to bow a little, "Yes, sir. Thank you for letting me stay here for such a long time."

He dismissed my formality with a wave of his hand, as always. The Naras weren't much into this kind of thing, after all.

"Feel welcome to come back any time," he said and went back into doing whatever he was. He didn't ask why I was going back home already. I found out that it was better this way.

Chitarō appeared into the room, eyeing the disappearing form of his father.

"Did he say anything?" He asked, handing me my clean pile of clothes.

I shook my head, deciding to shorten our conversation, "No, he just said goodbye."

Chitarō knew I wasn't saying everything, but he didn't press it. On our way to the front door, we found Shikaku sitting in front of a shogi board. He was playing alone, obviously creating new strategies for a different situation.

"Oh?" He eyed my bag. "Going home already, Kumi?"

Shikaku, like his brother, didn't bother adding a suffix to my name, saying it was troublesome, not to mention confusing. In his words, people calling me –chan would make others think I was a girl, which was trued enough with my looks.

When I asked him which difference it made if people thought I was a girl or not, he only told that, "I think you'd like to be recognized by what you are."

I nodded at his question.

"I can't stay here forever," I answered softly.

He observed my face for a few seconds, not doubt taking into account my too-bright eyes and my tense lips, before acquiescing.

"Tell Minato that I'll see him tomorrow at the usual place, yes?" He asked, not bothering on playing polite. Frankly speaking, after weeks of people walking on eggshells around me, straightforward honesty was very welcomed.

"Will do," I replied, waving goodbye.

Chitarō accompanied me to the front door and I turned around to thank him for letting me stay here for such a long time. How long had it been since I slept at home? Three weeks? A month? A little more? I had been uncertain about disturbing the Nara household for so long, but Suzume-san was more than happy to meet a friend of her son and Shikato-san didn't seem to mind the new guest.

"You know you can come back here if anything happens, right?" He asked before I could open my mouth. At my silence, he sighed. "I'm serious, Kumi. I know you – you're the type to suffer on your own."

I looked away at this. Chitarō rested his hand over my head as usual.

"Don't try to do everything alone. It's troublesome, not to mention trying. And Ren will just hunt you down until you confess all your fears, anyway," he smirked, dispersing the tension.

Life was a funny thing. Here I was, receiving a talk-down from an eight-year-old and feeling relieved from it.

"Thank you, Chita," I said. Really.

My Mom was the most beautiful woman I ever saw.

I lived two lifetimes, one shorter than the other, but never found a woman as beautiful as my Mom was. No blond managed to reach her locks, because no blond managed to have sun, gold and yellow in their hair. And nobody had eyes like hers, because nobody's eyes could reflect all the lights like hers.

She was amazing.

Her laugh was like chiming bells and her skin was like sweet milk. I remember her kindness and the smell of her cookies. I remember the days she'd sit down and read for me and my brother, even when she was worried about Dad or had worked all day long.

The room would light up when she entered it, just by walking in.

Her hugs were the best.

Differently from my first Mother, I could remember her face with glaring clarity. I could remember her smell of chamomile and her small hand caressing my hair and her voice whispering in my ear that everything would turn out okay.

When I came into this world, I had thought that – somehow – I'd have all the time in the world with my new mother. She went from my new Mother to Mother and to Mom faster than it should have been possible. And, then, she went to the hospital.

Mom died when I was seven. The same age as my first Mother. I tried not to wonder over the irony of this statement, if only not to feel bitter about it.

My memories and letters were the only thing I had left of her now. Photos could preserve moments, but never her smell, her laugh or her hugs. Minato assured me that I'd never forget any of this, but I wasn't so sure. I had forgotten my first Mother as well.

Mom had written letters her entire time at the hospital. Each letter had a date or an occasion to be opened, such as "First Kiss" or "Seventeenth Birthday". I was tempted to open them all and just read, but my love for her prevented me from doing so. Minato had also received a box with letters from the nurse taking care of my Mom, but I never asked him about his. They were his to read and nurture.

In a way, life went on after Mom died. Minato graduated and we moved to a smaller apartment after promising Airi-oba-san that, yes, we would visit her every week. I kept on going to the Academy and spending time with my friends.

It's funny, though – I never managed to bake cookies as well as Mom.

To my special child,

I love you.

I didn't know how to start this, since it means that I'm gone, but I just wanted to assure you – I love you. You and your brother were my proudest achievement and I know your Dad thought so too.

I wrote all those letters for you as a way of keeping up with your accomplishments despite not being physically present. Know, however, that I'll watch over you and Minato no matter where you go or what you do. You can read all the letters in a go if you want to. I promise I won't be mad if you can't wait in your grief, though I must say that there is one in the pile meant for when you are at your lowest.

I want you know that we won't be able to meet eye to eye anymore, but always heart to heart. So, please, be strong. Grandma died when I was young too and she used to tell me that all things are difficult before they are easy. You'll find your way, even if everything seems hopeless now.

Take care of your brother. He doesn't know when to stop and worries too much about being the perfect son. Remind him that it's okay to err sometimes and that you'll always be there for him.

Take care of yourself. I named you Kumi not only because you're the most beautiful person I've ever laid my eyes on, but also because you're the owner of a very beautiful soul. I know you'll do the right thing.

When I was pregnant with you, I was always worried about my ability to love. I had your Dad and your brother in life already and didn't know if I'd be able to love another being as much as I loved them already. When I saw you for the first time, I knew that my entire universe had shifted, because another incredible being belonged with me.

That's why, Kumi, I want you to be yourself. You're amazing just the way you are, no matter what others think or tell you. No matter what happens.

I'm proud of you.

I love you, sweetheart.

From your mother, with love,

Namikaze Torii.