Crucible's Children [Naruto] archive purposes
Chapter - 1: Homecoming
The Shodai Hokage did not merely create a forest. He created a vast repository of hundreds of medicinal plants, an abundant reservoir of renewable food resources, and carefully sectioned blocks of specific trees, each offering an uniquely useful form of wood. This new and novel Hidden Village he was creating would lack for nothing that he had the power to provide.
In this endeavor, he was aided by one of the few remaining lineages that had preserved something of the science of botany by passing down what fragmented knowledge and methodology had been retained from the prior age. The Yoshinaga clan was thus the first non-shinobi clan to throw in with the Senju's radical experiment.
-excerpted from The Miracle of Mokuton, by Inari Tsukino, Shiratori press, 1044 NE.
Sayuri Yamanaka sipped her tea as she considered her guest. Hiroko Haruno had once been a favored scion of the Shimizu clan, one of only three clans that were merchant houses rather than shinobi lineages among the charter families that had been Konoha’s core population at its founding. The Yoshinaga clan had since become a shinobi lineage in its own right, leaving only the Rokubungi and Shimizu as Konoha’s official “civilian” clans, entitled to openly wear clan insignia and retain land grants in the Great Forest despite their lack of shinobi members. It produced occasional grumbling from some of the smaller shinobi lineages, or from families with strong shinobi traditions but which were too small or obscure to count as a clan. They earned their tenancy in the bountiful Great Forest or their seats on the council by blood, with each generation, while the Shimizu and Rokubungi held theirs by contractual right passed down in perpetuity
Not that anyone could justly accuse Hiroko of not earning her due. Haruno Fine Crafts had grown from a few artisans to a booming business with over thirty master craftsmen and smiths in a mere half dozen years, despite the owner having a background in the textiles industry that the Shimuzu clan's businesses dominated, rather in metal or ceramics working. Hiroko herself rarely set foot in Konoha, busy completing her restructuring of the Shimizu holdings in Wind country and establishing a strong presence for Shimizu Mercantile in Lightning country, but her keen eye for talent had ensured that her own company back in Konoha prospered under the direction of capable managers. No, the unsubtle campaign of whispers and meaningful looks that had socially isolated her since her return to Konoha a few months ago had its roots in something else entirely. Doubt was cast on Haruno’s virtue and dignity, rather than her competence.
Sayuri had recognized that Haruno must be a formidable woman to accomplish as much as she had, but meeting her revealed the steel in her soul far more clearly than any impressions she previously had. There had been no need to ask about the rather vicious rumors that had swirled around the woman since her return to Konohagakure two months ago. Hiroko was easily astute enough to guess the motive behind the invitation to tea from her daughter’s new best friend’s mother. She knew that Sayuri wanted to gauge her character, to ensure that little Ino was not falling in with the unwanted child of an abandoned woman. She knew she was being judged, and she bore it with steadfast calm and dignity.
She spoke calmly and forthrightly, her voice neither challenging nor apologetic, as she recounted the years she spent away from her hometown, and the marriage that had strained her relations with her family to the breaking point. Hiroko had been sent to supervise the Shimizu Mercantile holdings in Wind Country, which had been, at the time, meant as an opportunity, not exile. It was her chance to show her worth as a Shimizu clan scion, and demonstrate her business acumen. She had performed splendidly, much as her family expected from the astute young woman, and seemed poised to move up to greater and grander things. Until, that is, she fell in love with a local, and decided to get married.
Hiroko was hardly the only impetuous young scion of a highly placed family that had become enamored with a lowborn lover. Indeed, in relatively egalitarian Fire country, it would hardly be worth commenting on, except for the poor timing of her return. Hiroko had shown up, newborn daughter in arms, just in time to arrive in a Konoha still wreathed in smoke from minor fires that had not been put out as shinobi and civilian relief efforts alike focused on saving lives in the wake of the Kyuubi's attack. Her arrival, with a small caravan packed with pottery, was welcome in the eyes of Konoha's beleaguered civil services, who pressed the vessels into service for water storage and delivery while repairs were being made to the village's extensive sewage system and water works.
It was less welcome in the eyes of her emotionally strung out family, who she hadn't told of her marriage, let alone her pregnancy. The screaming row the resulted when the reunion between the wayward daughter and her distraught parents occurred was the talk of a village relieved to have something other than the carnage left by the kitsune bijuu to occupy their minds. In the end, Hiroko had been shuffled off back to Wind country to save what little face the clan could.
Seven years later and she was back in Konoha, her daughter quiet and haunted, her husband nowhere to be seen. The Konoha rumor mill was in overdrive. Sayuri had heard at least six variations on "he's run off with another (younger) woman," with a range of appendices ranging from "the poor dear" to "hmph, this is what comes of ignoring the wisdom of one's elders."
But Hiroko's calm and dignified manner put the lie to such gossip. She hesitated and skirted the issue of her husband's death, but made it clear that he had died, and died honorably. She was not an abandoned wife throwing herself on the mercy of the family that she had once spurned, but a widow returning to the town that was her home, of her own accord, with no need for charity from anyone. There was no sign of irritation at the gossip, no petulance about the unfairness of it all, only carefully measured out grief, as politeness dictated - enough to make one’s feeling clear, but not enough to discomfit anyone else. Hiroko’s back was unbowed, and her eyes clear, ready to stare down any who would slander her husband, and declare that Yoichiro Haruno had died no less honorably or well than any of Kohona’s finest.
That was something Sayuri could respect. She knew that the Shimizu traditionally shied away from the pursuing the way of the ninja, preferring to expand their prosperous financial holdings and ever burgeoning library, but they could not help but soak up some of the attitudes of the ninja that dominated the village. Dying well was important for ninja, who knew that they might be called upon to spend their lives for the sake of their comrades or their village at any time. Their lives, the accumulated experience and skill they presented, were the village's most valuable resource, wealth not to be spent lightly. That was the among the first lessons a prospective ninja of the leaf was taught: that she must be prepared to lay down her life for her village, but that such sacrifice must be made for worthy ends in time of need.
Konoha invested much in its shinobi and kunoichi, and wanted them to live long enough to make the investment worthwhile. Konoha ninja would not be fodder to be cast heedlessly into the fire like the poor souls awarded headbands by some other villages. Iwa forgot its ‘lesser’ nin, and told its children the space was now open for the strong to fill; Konoha carved the names of its dead into stone and cherished their memory. It was a point in Hiroko’s favor that she understood the meaning of sacrifice.
In fact, Hiroko seemed to understand a great deal about military matters. Sayuri had taken the liberty of examining her financial records, public and otherwise, and noticed an interesting trend in her business dealings. Most merchants prioritized profit, wheeling and dealing to corner the market for a product or take advantage of supply and demand. Hiroko, on the other hand, seemed more interested in expanding Konoha’s economy, especially with regards to areas Sayuri herself had identified as needing development when she had worked in the logistics division.
Hiroko had arranged the immigration of pottery experts from Sunakagure to start a ceramics industry in Konoha, taking advantage of the excellent clay to be found on a few of the nearby rivers. She imported samples of freshwater crayfish that were cultivated along with rice in the terraced pond-fields of Rai no Kuni, and agriculturalists knowledgeable in their cultivation, giving Konoha yet another source of indigenously producible protein. Everywhere she went, she sought out people with skills and talents that might flourish in Konoha, and pointed them at its gates.
Sakura might be the first ninja from the Haruno clan in many generations, but Sayuri could see the strategic mindset of a veteran warrior in Hiroko’s actions. She was securing the logistical base for her home, expanding the economic base that was the root of her influence rather than settling for merely exploiting a niche in its markets, and turning a respectable profit in the doing, no less. Most of the shinobi she knew lacked that sort of acumen for strategic planning.
“You know, I worked in procurement during the Third Shinobi War. One of my biggest gripes was the lack of an indigenous source of high quality glasswork, since the ninja in the field were always asking for more binoculars. But you seemed to have fixed that nicely with the master lensgrinder you managed to convince to immigrate from Wind Country.”
Hiroko caught the implication immediately. “I suppose I can’t fault you for peeking into my financial transactions. I’ve always made sure to gather all the relevant information before discussing a deal myself. But please don’t make a habit of it.” She offered Sayuri a wan smile. “I’d like to think that we could be friends rather than business rivals.” She spread her hands, as if to say, ‘see, I came unarmed.’
Sayuri smiled back, acknowledging that Hiroko had won that verbal sally. “Old habits die hard I’m afraid. Though I must say I’m curious as to how you found the logistics department wishlist.” Never mind how ignorant civilians usually were, all too many shinobi lived at the point of the kunai, scarcely caring beyond that. Her talent for seeing the bigger picture was what won Sayuri her chuunin vest during the last shinobi war; the Hokage recognized her talent for logistics. She suspected that Hiroko could have done the job as well as she had.
“If I knew there was a wishlist, I would have asked to see it,” Hiroko told her. “My business strategy was to fill in all the unoccupied niches in Konoha’s indigenous industry. If I prioritized those trades which produced wares with military application, it was because those were the ones I could be most confident of succeeding in a hidden village.”
“Clever,” Sayuri said, “and more astute than most merchants. You’re creating long term economic growth, which in turn means a bigger market for other goods your clan has an interest in.” Certainly the several dozen new immigrants Hiroko had sponsored all loyally bought from Shimizu owned businesses.
Politeness would have dictated that Hiroko compliment Sayuri for her grasp of economics in turn. Instead, Hiroko looked out the window as if searching for something on the distant horizon, and her reply was in a softer voice than before. “Our economic independence has always been a pillar of Kohona’s strength. Mokuton gave Konoha not only the physical barrier of the Great Forest, but also defense against both scarcity and reliance on the patronage of others. Other hidden villages are not so fortunate. Iwa throws its children into the fire because there are plenty more of the desperate and destitute waiting their turn. Mizu nurses its children with blood, because they’ve no mothers to breastfeed them. Even Suna puts its children to harsh tests because they must struggle against the unforgiving desert. As it stands, only Konoha and Kumo can afford to indulge in giving their children a childhood.”
It was poetic, how she pared down the economic situation of the five major hidden villages to a few phrases. Sayuri found herself intrigued by the insights offered by Hiroko's unique way of thinking about the situation. “So you’re a patriot.”
“After what my husband told me about life in the badlands of Wind country, after what I saw in Suna, after what I personally experienced in Lightning. . .” Hiroko looked back at her host. “How could I not be? This is a place of beauty, a place where justice is not set aside for cold necessity, where people have the margin to pick ourselves back up after mistakes.” She looked out the window again, this time towards the garden, where Ino and Sakura were playing. “Where children have the chance to be children.”
“A rare thing in our world as it is now.” Sayuri agreed. “Though I’m not sure we can ascribe it all to having a good economy. I’d like to think that the moral character of our founders and our shinobi contribute something to it.”
Hiroko nodded, acknowledging both the point and the clever parallel to her own words. “Of course. In the end, that’s what matters most, isn’t it? That the people with the power to level cities and bring down nations remain ethical, sane, and content. Trying to make sure that they eat well and feel safe at home is my contribution.”
“Well, I for one thank you for it,” Sayuri told her. “And also for that fine silk kimono. Ino was beside herself with glee.” She smiled at the thought of her daughter. Ino loved to dress up, and befriending the granddaughter of a textiles magnate had made her giddy with the opportunities to be had for expanding her wardrobe.
“It was far too small a gift for what she’s done for Sakura,” Hiroko demurred. “No one else was willing to stand up for the new girl. And Sakura’s never been able to make friends easily. Just Ino being there has done her a world of good.”
“It must be difficult for Sakura, without her father,” Sayuri offered, dangling that observation out to fish for more intelligence on the mysteriously tightlipped girl.
Hiroko’s composure faltered for the first time since she’d stepped across the threshold of the Yamanaka’s home. Though they would be subtle in other circumstances, the almost imperceptible flinch and the sudden tightness of her fingers on her teacup were positively jarring against the unblemished mien she had previously maintained. “She watched him die. I wanted to leave but she wouldn’t move, and I didn’t dare draw any further attention to us. She saw the whole thing; watched without a sound, without a flinch, without a tear. Not until we were safely back in Fire country did she even allow herself to cry.” She set down the teacup, staring down into it as though the tea might offer her an answer.
“I used to be so proud that my daughter was so precocious, so mature for her age.” That was punctuated by something that was at once a bitter laugh and a sob. “Now I wish she’d had more time to be a child.” She finally looked up again, meeting Sayuri’s eyes. “Ino’s gotten her to speak more in a week than I have in several months. She’s done a better job of comforting my daughter than I have.” Her gaze fell again. “And a better job of protecting her.”
“You weren’t the one to take her father from her, Hiroko. You can’t blame yourself for that.” Sayuri set her own teacup down and took Hiroko’s hand in her own. “There is only so much that lies within our ability to affect.” She spread the other woman’s clenched fingers with her thumb, cupping the hand with her own. “These hands can protect our daughters from reaching out to touch a stove, but cannot prevent them from being curious. And however much we protect them, they must leave the nest eventually.”
She let go of the other woman and gestured out the window, to the garden where their daughters had gone to play. “I worry sometimes, about readying Ino for the kunoichi ranks. I wonder if she’ll thank us for it, ten years down the line, when she’s attended the funerals of too many friends and washed the blood out of her clothes far too many times. But in the end, it’s her choice to make, and if she walks that path, I’ll make her as ready as I can.” Sayuri shook her head. “You were a merchant factor, and surely traveled where danger lurked quite often. I was a kunoichi, and danced a perilous line alongside death for years. Yet here we are, drinking tea, and worrying about our daughters, while many others who chose safer lives died as girls, from sickness, or as young women from accident, before they could even consider having daughters of their own.”
Sayuri’s fingers traced the scar across her right forearm, the sole feature that marred her smooth white skin. “Your husband died for what he thought just. It’s a better death than many in this village had. I think Sakura recognizes that, already. She’s a bright girl.”
Hiroko was still for several moments, then finally whispered, “I know that Sakura understood why he died. I was just afraid she’d decided to follow his footsteps too closely. That she’d decided that she had to sacrifice herself to live up to his legacy. But you’re right. It’s a choice for her to make.” She cleared her throat, her voice returning to firmness. “Sakura told me today that she wants to go to the Academy.” There was no need to say ‘Ninja Academy’; in Konoha there was only one ‘Academy.’ Her gaze locked with Sayuri’s. “Would the Yamanaka Clan be willing to sponsor her for the Accelerated Training Program?”
That was a bit of a surprise. Most civilian families were content to enroll their children in the standard curriculum. ATP entry required that the prospective entrant already meet certain criteria, largely composed with the children of ninja clans or families in mind. “Has she had any prior training?” Sayuri asked, wondering just what else had gone on in Sakura’s childhood.
Hiroko nodded. “She’s studied basic martial arts. Not true taijutsu, but the one of the styles used before shinobi learned to use chakra. More an exercise regimen than anything you’d use in a fight, but it should help. She picked up basic chakra molding through observation while we were in Suna -not enough to do anything with, but it’s there, or so I’m told. Extensive study of strategy; but almost everyone in the Shimizu clan does that, since it’s not so different at the bargaining table and on the battlefield.”
“She learned chakra molding by observing the odd shinobi while in Suna?” That merited raised eyebrows. Sayuri had figured out chakra molding only after extensive tutoring from her kunoichi mother. And if the Shimizu clan was teaching it’s scions military strategy, alternate uses aside, they were definitely more martially minded than they appeared to be. She made a mental note to ask her old friend Suzume about any Shimizus on the academy rolls. Everyone knew that neither of the civilian clans had members serve as ninja, but apparently that didn’t mean they were fully divorced from the arts of warfare.
Hiroko had the good grace to appear embarrassed. “She was always a precocious child.”
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The precocious child had just pricked her finger on one of the rose bushes in the Yamanaka family’s garden. Most girls her age would have cried out, or announced that she had an “owie.” Sakura simply sucked the blood from her finger and spat it out onto the ground, and would have gone right back to work on cutting the stem had not Ino taken notice.
“Rose bushes aren’t poisonous,” Ino told her companion. “You don’t need to do that.”
Sakura looked at her, then shrugged and simply said “Habit.”
Ino blinked. “Where’d you learn a habit like that?”
“Wind Country.” Snick! went the stem as it came off. Sakura carefully placed it in the bucket, and turned to the pansy plant next to the roses.
Ino’s face scrunched in mild annoyance. Sakura almost never spoke more than short phrases, except when being polite to adults. Dragging any detail or explanation out of her required a lot of prodding. But still, she had such interesting stories, so the effort was generally worth it. “Are there a lot of poisonous plants there?”
“There are a lot of poisonous everythings there.” The tone was flat, but given how precise Sakura was about everything, that mangling of grammar could only be deadpan.
Ino grinned broadly. “Sakura! You made a funny!” She laughed, gleefully. “I was starting to think you didn’t know how.”
[]-----------------------------[]
The two women turned to the window, hearing the laughter from the garden. Sayuri saw tears forming in her guest's eyes.
"It's been months since I heard Sakura laugh," Hiroko said, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand. "I'd almost forgotten what it sounded like."
"I'm sure she'll have more smiles to share when you give her the good news," Sayuri told her, smiling comfortingly.
Hiroko nodded, but hesitated. “What was it like for you, as a kunoichi? I can't really worry for the innocence Sakura has already lost, but. . .” She gestured helplessly.
Sayuri shook her head. “They didn’t throw us out into the world with kunai and orders to kill at age eight, whatever you may have heard. In a way, the instructors at the Academy tried to prepare us and protect us at the same time. It didn’t always work out how we would have liked. But life brings you what it will. The academy trained me to be strong enough for those challenges when they came." She put a hand on Hiroko's shoulder. "I'm sure both our daughters will be strong enough."
[]-----------------------------[]
The Shodai Hokage did not merely create a forest. He created a vast repository of hundreds of medicinal plants, an abundant reservoir of renewable food resources, and carefully sectioned blocks of specific trees, each offering an uniquely useful form of wood. This new and novel Hidden Village he was creating would lack for nothing that he had the power to provide.
In this endeavor, he was aided by one of the few remaining lineages that had preserved something of the science of botany by passing down what fragmented knowledge and methodology had been retained from the prior age. The Yoshinaga clan was thus the first non-shinobi clan to throw in with the Senju's radical experiment.
-excerpted from The Miracle of Mokuton, by Inari Tsukino, Shiratori press, 1044 NE.
Sayuri Yamanaka sipped her tea as she considered her guest. Hiroko Haruno had once been a favored scion of the Shimizu clan, one of only three clans that were merchant houses rather than shinobi lineages among the charter families that had been Konoha’s core population at its founding. The Yoshinaga clan had since become a shinobi lineage in its own right, leaving only the Rokubungi and Shimizu as Konoha’s official “civilian” clans, entitled to openly wear clan insignia and retain land grants in the Great Forest despite their lack of shinobi members. It produced occasional grumbling from some of the smaller shinobi lineages, or from families with strong shinobi traditions but which were too small or obscure to count as a clan. They earned their tenancy in the bountiful Great Forest or their seats on the council by blood, with each generation, while the Shimizu and Rokubungi held theirs by contractual right passed down in perpetuity
Not that anyone could justly accuse Hiroko of not earning her due. Haruno Fine Crafts had grown from a few artisans to a booming business with over thirty master craftsmen and smiths in a mere half dozen years, despite the owner having a background in the textiles industry that the Shimuzu clan's businesses dominated, rather in metal or ceramics working. Hiroko herself rarely set foot in Konoha, busy completing her restructuring of the Shimizu holdings in Wind country and establishing a strong presence for Shimizu Mercantile in Lightning country, but her keen eye for talent had ensured that her own company back in Konoha prospered under the direction of capable managers. No, the unsubtle campaign of whispers and meaningful looks that had socially isolated her since her return to Konoha a few months ago had its roots in something else entirely. Doubt was cast on Haruno’s virtue and dignity, rather than her competence.
Sayuri had recognized that Haruno must be a formidable woman to accomplish as much as she had, but meeting her revealed the steel in her soul far more clearly than any impressions she previously had. There had been no need to ask about the rather vicious rumors that had swirled around the woman since her return to Konohagakure two months ago. Hiroko was easily astute enough to guess the motive behind the invitation to tea from her daughter’s new best friend’s mother. She knew that Sayuri wanted to gauge her character, to ensure that little Ino was not falling in with the unwanted child of an abandoned woman. She knew she was being judged, and she bore it with steadfast calm and dignity.
She spoke calmly and forthrightly, her voice neither challenging nor apologetic, as she recounted the years she spent away from her hometown, and the marriage that had strained her relations with her family to the breaking point. Hiroko had been sent to supervise the Shimizu Mercantile holdings in Wind Country, which had been, at the time, meant as an opportunity, not exile. It was her chance to show her worth as a Shimizu clan scion, and demonstrate her business acumen. She had performed splendidly, much as her family expected from the astute young woman, and seemed poised to move up to greater and grander things. Until, that is, she fell in love with a local, and decided to get married.
Hiroko was hardly the only impetuous young scion of a highly placed family that had become enamored with a lowborn lover. Indeed, in relatively egalitarian Fire country, it would hardly be worth commenting on, except for the poor timing of her return. Hiroko had shown up, newborn daughter in arms, just in time to arrive in a Konoha still wreathed in smoke from minor fires that had not been put out as shinobi and civilian relief efforts alike focused on saving lives in the wake of the Kyuubi's attack. Her arrival, with a small caravan packed with pottery, was welcome in the eyes of Konoha's beleaguered civil services, who pressed the vessels into service for water storage and delivery while repairs were being made to the village's extensive sewage system and water works.
It was less welcome in the eyes of her emotionally strung out family, who she hadn't told of her marriage, let alone her pregnancy. The screaming row the resulted when the reunion between the wayward daughter and her distraught parents occurred was the talk of a village relieved to have something other than the carnage left by the kitsune bijuu to occupy their minds. In the end, Hiroko had been shuffled off back to Wind country to save what little face the clan could.
Seven years later and she was back in Konoha, her daughter quiet and haunted, her husband nowhere to be seen. The Konoha rumor mill was in overdrive. Sayuri had heard at least six variations on "he's run off with another (younger) woman," with a range of appendices ranging from "the poor dear" to "hmph, this is what comes of ignoring the wisdom of one's elders."
But Hiroko's calm and dignified manner put the lie to such gossip. She hesitated and skirted the issue of her husband's death, but made it clear that he had died, and died honorably. She was not an abandoned wife throwing herself on the mercy of the family that she had once spurned, but a widow returning to the town that was her home, of her own accord, with no need for charity from anyone. There was no sign of irritation at the gossip, no petulance about the unfairness of it all, only carefully measured out grief, as politeness dictated - enough to make one’s feeling clear, but not enough to discomfit anyone else. Hiroko’s back was unbowed, and her eyes clear, ready to stare down any who would slander her husband, and declare that Yoichiro Haruno had died no less honorably or well than any of Kohona’s finest.
That was something Sayuri could respect. She knew that the Shimizu traditionally shied away from the pursuing the way of the ninja, preferring to expand their prosperous financial holdings and ever burgeoning library, but they could not help but soak up some of the attitudes of the ninja that dominated the village. Dying well was important for ninja, who knew that they might be called upon to spend their lives for the sake of their comrades or their village at any time. Their lives, the accumulated experience and skill they presented, were the village's most valuable resource, wealth not to be spent lightly. That was the among the first lessons a prospective ninja of the leaf was taught: that she must be prepared to lay down her life for her village, but that such sacrifice must be made for worthy ends in time of need.
Konoha invested much in its shinobi and kunoichi, and wanted them to live long enough to make the investment worthwhile. Konoha ninja would not be fodder to be cast heedlessly into the fire like the poor souls awarded headbands by some other villages. Iwa forgot its ‘lesser’ nin, and told its children the space was now open for the strong to fill; Konoha carved the names of its dead into stone and cherished their memory. It was a point in Hiroko’s favor that she understood the meaning of sacrifice.
In fact, Hiroko seemed to understand a great deal about military matters. Sayuri had taken the liberty of examining her financial records, public and otherwise, and noticed an interesting trend in her business dealings. Most merchants prioritized profit, wheeling and dealing to corner the market for a product or take advantage of supply and demand. Hiroko, on the other hand, seemed more interested in expanding Konoha’s economy, especially with regards to areas Sayuri herself had identified as needing development when she had worked in the logistics division.
Hiroko had arranged the immigration of pottery experts from Sunakagure to start a ceramics industry in Konoha, taking advantage of the excellent clay to be found on a few of the nearby rivers. She imported samples of freshwater crayfish that were cultivated along with rice in the terraced pond-fields of Rai no Kuni, and agriculturalists knowledgeable in their cultivation, giving Konoha yet another source of indigenously producible protein. Everywhere she went, she sought out people with skills and talents that might flourish in Konoha, and pointed them at its gates.
Sakura might be the first ninja from the Haruno clan in many generations, but Sayuri could see the strategic mindset of a veteran warrior in Hiroko’s actions. She was securing the logistical base for her home, expanding the economic base that was the root of her influence rather than settling for merely exploiting a niche in its markets, and turning a respectable profit in the doing, no less. Most of the shinobi she knew lacked that sort of acumen for strategic planning.
“You know, I worked in procurement during the Third Shinobi War. One of my biggest gripes was the lack of an indigenous source of high quality glasswork, since the ninja in the field were always asking for more binoculars. But you seemed to have fixed that nicely with the master lensgrinder you managed to convince to immigrate from Wind Country.”
Hiroko caught the implication immediately. “I suppose I can’t fault you for peeking into my financial transactions. I’ve always made sure to gather all the relevant information before discussing a deal myself. But please don’t make a habit of it.” She offered Sayuri a wan smile. “I’d like to think that we could be friends rather than business rivals.” She spread her hands, as if to say, ‘see, I came unarmed.’
Sayuri smiled back, acknowledging that Hiroko had won that verbal sally. “Old habits die hard I’m afraid. Though I must say I’m curious as to how you found the logistics department wishlist.” Never mind how ignorant civilians usually were, all too many shinobi lived at the point of the kunai, scarcely caring beyond that. Her talent for seeing the bigger picture was what won Sayuri her chuunin vest during the last shinobi war; the Hokage recognized her talent for logistics. She suspected that Hiroko could have done the job as well as she had.
“If I knew there was a wishlist, I would have asked to see it,” Hiroko told her. “My business strategy was to fill in all the unoccupied niches in Konoha’s indigenous industry. If I prioritized those trades which produced wares with military application, it was because those were the ones I could be most confident of succeeding in a hidden village.”
“Clever,” Sayuri said, “and more astute than most merchants. You’re creating long term economic growth, which in turn means a bigger market for other goods your clan has an interest in.” Certainly the several dozen new immigrants Hiroko had sponsored all loyally bought from Shimizu owned businesses.
Politeness would have dictated that Hiroko compliment Sayuri for her grasp of economics in turn. Instead, Hiroko looked out the window as if searching for something on the distant horizon, and her reply was in a softer voice than before. “Our economic independence has always been a pillar of Kohona’s strength. Mokuton gave Konoha not only the physical barrier of the Great Forest, but also defense against both scarcity and reliance on the patronage of others. Other hidden villages are not so fortunate. Iwa throws its children into the fire because there are plenty more of the desperate and destitute waiting their turn. Mizu nurses its children with blood, because they’ve no mothers to breastfeed them. Even Suna puts its children to harsh tests because they must struggle against the unforgiving desert. As it stands, only Konoha and Kumo can afford to indulge in giving their children a childhood.”
It was poetic, how she pared down the economic situation of the five major hidden villages to a few phrases. Sayuri found herself intrigued by the insights offered by Hiroko's unique way of thinking about the situation. “So you’re a patriot.”
“After what my husband told me about life in the badlands of Wind country, after what I saw in Suna, after what I personally experienced in Lightning. . .” Hiroko looked back at her host. “How could I not be? This is a place of beauty, a place where justice is not set aside for cold necessity, where people have the margin to pick ourselves back up after mistakes.” She looked out the window again, this time towards the garden, where Ino and Sakura were playing. “Where children have the chance to be children.”
“A rare thing in our world as it is now.” Sayuri agreed. “Though I’m not sure we can ascribe it all to having a good economy. I’d like to think that the moral character of our founders and our shinobi contribute something to it.”
Hiroko nodded, acknowledging both the point and the clever parallel to her own words. “Of course. In the end, that’s what matters most, isn’t it? That the people with the power to level cities and bring down nations remain ethical, sane, and content. Trying to make sure that they eat well and feel safe at home is my contribution.”
“Well, I for one thank you for it,” Sayuri told her. “And also for that fine silk kimono. Ino was beside herself with glee.” She smiled at the thought of her daughter. Ino loved to dress up, and befriending the granddaughter of a textiles magnate had made her giddy with the opportunities to be had for expanding her wardrobe.
“It was far too small a gift for what she’s done for Sakura,” Hiroko demurred. “No one else was willing to stand up for the new girl. And Sakura’s never been able to make friends easily. Just Ino being there has done her a world of good.”
“It must be difficult for Sakura, without her father,” Sayuri offered, dangling that observation out to fish for more intelligence on the mysteriously tightlipped girl.
Hiroko’s composure faltered for the first time since she’d stepped across the threshold of the Yamanaka’s home. Though they would be subtle in other circumstances, the almost imperceptible flinch and the sudden tightness of her fingers on her teacup were positively jarring against the unblemished mien she had previously maintained. “She watched him die. I wanted to leave but she wouldn’t move, and I didn’t dare draw any further attention to us. She saw the whole thing; watched without a sound, without a flinch, without a tear. Not until we were safely back in Fire country did she even allow herself to cry.” She set down the teacup, staring down into it as though the tea might offer her an answer.
“I used to be so proud that my daughter was so precocious, so mature for her age.” That was punctuated by something that was at once a bitter laugh and a sob. “Now I wish she’d had more time to be a child.” She finally looked up again, meeting Sayuri’s eyes. “Ino’s gotten her to speak more in a week than I have in several months. She’s done a better job of comforting my daughter than I have.” Her gaze fell again. “And a better job of protecting her.”
“You weren’t the one to take her father from her, Hiroko. You can’t blame yourself for that.” Sayuri set her own teacup down and took Hiroko’s hand in her own. “There is only so much that lies within our ability to affect.” She spread the other woman’s clenched fingers with her thumb, cupping the hand with her own. “These hands can protect our daughters from reaching out to touch a stove, but cannot prevent them from being curious. And however much we protect them, they must leave the nest eventually.”
She let go of the other woman and gestured out the window, to the garden where their daughters had gone to play. “I worry sometimes, about readying Ino for the kunoichi ranks. I wonder if she’ll thank us for it, ten years down the line, when she’s attended the funerals of too many friends and washed the blood out of her clothes far too many times. But in the end, it’s her choice to make, and if she walks that path, I’ll make her as ready as I can.” Sayuri shook her head. “You were a merchant factor, and surely traveled where danger lurked quite often. I was a kunoichi, and danced a perilous line alongside death for years. Yet here we are, drinking tea, and worrying about our daughters, while many others who chose safer lives died as girls, from sickness, or as young women from accident, before they could even consider having daughters of their own.”
Sayuri’s fingers traced the scar across her right forearm, the sole feature that marred her smooth white skin. “Your husband died for what he thought just. It’s a better death than many in this village had. I think Sakura recognizes that, already. She’s a bright girl.”
Hiroko was still for several moments, then finally whispered, “I know that Sakura understood why he died. I was just afraid she’d decided to follow his footsteps too closely. That she’d decided that she had to sacrifice herself to live up to his legacy. But you’re right. It’s a choice for her to make.” She cleared her throat, her voice returning to firmness. “Sakura told me today that she wants to go to the Academy.” There was no need to say ‘Ninja Academy’; in Konoha there was only one ‘Academy.’ Her gaze locked with Sayuri’s. “Would the Yamanaka Clan be willing to sponsor her for the Accelerated Training Program?”
That was a bit of a surprise. Most civilian families were content to enroll their children in the standard curriculum. ATP entry required that the prospective entrant already meet certain criteria, largely composed with the children of ninja clans or families in mind. “Has she had any prior training?” Sayuri asked, wondering just what else had gone on in Sakura’s childhood.
Hiroko nodded. “She’s studied basic martial arts. Not true taijutsu, but the one of the styles used before shinobi learned to use chakra. More an exercise regimen than anything you’d use in a fight, but it should help. She picked up basic chakra molding through observation while we were in Suna -not enough to do anything with, but it’s there, or so I’m told. Extensive study of strategy; but almost everyone in the Shimizu clan does that, since it’s not so different at the bargaining table and on the battlefield.”
“She learned chakra molding by observing the odd shinobi while in Suna?” That merited raised eyebrows. Sayuri had figured out chakra molding only after extensive tutoring from her kunoichi mother. And if the Shimizu clan was teaching it’s scions military strategy, alternate uses aside, they were definitely more martially minded than they appeared to be. She made a mental note to ask her old friend Suzume about any Shimizus on the academy rolls. Everyone knew that neither of the civilian clans had members serve as ninja, but apparently that didn’t mean they were fully divorced from the arts of warfare.
Hiroko had the good grace to appear embarrassed. “She was always a precocious child.”
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The precocious child had just pricked her finger on one of the rose bushes in the Yamanaka family’s garden. Most girls her age would have cried out, or announced that she had an “owie.” Sakura simply sucked the blood from her finger and spat it out onto the ground, and would have gone right back to work on cutting the stem had not Ino taken notice.
“Rose bushes aren’t poisonous,” Ino told her companion. “You don’t need to do that.”
Sakura looked at her, then shrugged and simply said “Habit.”
Ino blinked. “Where’d you learn a habit like that?”
“Wind Country.” Snick! went the stem as it came off. Sakura carefully placed it in the bucket, and turned to the pansy plant next to the roses.
Ino’s face scrunched in mild annoyance. Sakura almost never spoke more than short phrases, except when being polite to adults. Dragging any detail or explanation out of her required a lot of prodding. But still, she had such interesting stories, so the effort was generally worth it. “Are there a lot of poisonous plants there?”
“There are a lot of poisonous everythings there.” The tone was flat, but given how precise Sakura was about everything, that mangling of grammar could only be deadpan.
Ino grinned broadly. “Sakura! You made a funny!” She laughed, gleefully. “I was starting to think you didn’t know how.”
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The two women turned to the window, hearing the laughter from the garden. Sayuri saw tears forming in her guest's eyes.
"It's been months since I heard Sakura laugh," Hiroko said, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand. "I'd almost forgotten what it sounded like."
"I'm sure she'll have more smiles to share when you give her the good news," Sayuri told her, smiling comfortingly.
Hiroko nodded, but hesitated. “What was it like for you, as a kunoichi? I can't really worry for the innocence Sakura has already lost, but. . .” She gestured helplessly.
Sayuri shook her head. “They didn’t throw us out into the world with kunai and orders to kill at age eight, whatever you may have heard. In a way, the instructors at the Academy tried to prepare us and protect us at the same time. It didn’t always work out how we would have liked. But life brings you what it will. The academy trained me to be strong enough for those challenges when they came." She put a hand on Hiroko's shoulder. "I'm sure both our daughters will be strong enough."
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