(In)Difference drabble (2015-03-12)

She makes plans, has arrangements waiting in the wings, to leave. But she holds, because she doesn’t want to do so in the dark night, like a secret. She’s not running away, fleeing like a criminal, like prey, but it is leaving. She lets her friends know, murmurs it to them in between snippets of normal conversation. She states her intentions, because she is not going to be convinced otherwise. But there is one person whose blessing she needs, whose word would make her postpone but not completely forgo her plans.

Her eldest son is six years old, a child still, but with knives in his hands and an even more dangerous mind. Technically, with that stamped metal plate tied around his head, he’s a soldier and so an adult. But he’s just a boy, and while she knows he can do amazing things without her, she’s not just going to abandon her son.

The twins are only two, too young to fully understand, and though it breaks her heart, they may not even remember her (but their eyes gleam with that same cognizant genius that allowed her eldest to skip years ahead of the pack). Her eldest, though, he may see her leaving as betrayal, as her picking his newest baby sibling over him.

She goes down on her knees before him. Ostensibly to put them at similar eye levels, but it feels almost supplicant. They are at home, at the house so large and protected, like an empty shell; they can speak freely because no one is there to eavesdrop. She is sometimes struck with the thought that she tried to fill it with children, only to have doomed them to rattling around this prison with her.

But her eldest darling boy understands too well, has tried to do the same with pups of every breed. He listens and, after a tense silence, acquiesces. He is envious, but he knows it is too late for him and for the twins.

It is the last time they see each other for a decade.

A caravan of civilians are making their way out of Konoha, among their number is a black-haired woman breast-feeding a similarly black-haired baby. In the comfort of their own home, the gate guards are lax and as squeamish as any single man–they do not look at her closely; and anyway, two groups behind the caravan is the Sannin Tsunade, scowl on her pretty face and as frightening as ever.

The Yondaime Hokage is told that his wife and unborn child died during labor. He hasn’t seen her in three weeks, so accepts it as true.

A/N: Geez, why do I keep wanting to write the end of (In)Difference? This is some serious terrible marriage shit, why am I doing this to Sakumo? He’s supposed to be a nice person, right? Oh, yeah, context: in (In)Difference, OC is Kakashi’s mother and makes it so that Sakumo chooses the mission over his teammates… meaning he doesn’t commit suicide and eventually leading to him being the Yondaime right before the Third(? Second? Whichever one Kakashi is alive for) Shinobi World War.

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