Chapter Text
I have tasted rain
I have felt the moss so soft
And the stone so cold
Her hair was greasy and matted from days of neglect, her clothing torn and sweat-stained, and the kunai and tanto strapped to her mother's body painted bruises into her legs as she was jostled on her back; a necessary discomfort as she was too little to keep pace with too little chakra to water walk. But when Nanami saw the sun, bold and sure and warm and radiant, finally strong enough to break through the mist that had hung over her all her life, she had never felt such fluttering joy.
They had made it to the Land of Honey. With little food and even less sleep, Izumi Chiyoko fled with her daughter.
She ran. Ran across Mizu, darted through marshland and river deltas, skated across the steely green gray sea for miles, heart in her throat until she found a shabby fishing boat on which to stow away. She had slipped through the paint peeling cabin windows, huddled between netting and crates of fish, the odor of rot and salt pungent, clutching her sleeping daughter, eyes wide, tracking every creak and hum of the vessel, waiting to be discovered, forced to run, forced to fight.
And now, as blistered feet touched upon the lush shores of Honey, Nanami's gasp at the gold of the sun and the blue of the sky cut through Chiyoko's labored breaths. Even though they were still not safe, would probably never again be safe, Chiyoko didn't protest as Nanami slid down her back, and took a few light steps towards the sun-dappled tree line. She sank to the ground cross legged, and ran her small hand through the sand, letting the grains fall through her fingers like powdered sugar through a sieve. Large eyes peered up at the skyline, savoring the heat and humidity that warmed her skin and the light breeze that cooled the sweat from her brow, and for the first time in a long time, Chiyoko’s solemn daughter smiled.
She met her mother's weary face, and with the tentative smile still on her lips, stood up, brushing the sand from her trousers. Nanami took Chiyoko's callused hand in her own, rubbing her thumb against her mother's palm, and leaned against her arm, and for a moment the tension in Chiyoko's shoulders seeped out and she brushed a kiss on the crown of her daughter's head. They stayed hand in hand for a few quiet minutes, listening to the waves gently lapping the sand and the susurrus of the leaves until Chiyoko slipped her hand free, and stepped into the gnarled greenery of the mangroves.
Nanami watched in silence as her mother calmly removed her hitai-ate, the first time in over a week, and scratched a steady, deep line through the symbol of the Mist.
——
"It's a girl." The medic dully informed.
Chiyoko nodded faintly, eyes never moving from the gloomy window view, a shroud of gray only broken by the ugliness of heavy, brutalist concrete buildings. The fluorescent bulbs that plague all hospitals cast a harsh light on Chiyoko, reflecting the sheen of sweat that dampened her body and plastered her dark hair to her face and neck. Both the medic and new mother remained silent as the infant girl's cries turned to whimpers.
Chiyoko made no move to hold her.
Soundlessly, the medic cleaned the baby and placed her in the crib beside the hospital bed before she stepped out of the room, the door closing with a heavy 'click'. The baby was asleep. The only sound in the room was the hum of the lights and Chiyoko kept her eyes firmly on the window beside her. She was afraid to look.
She wouldn't cry, as a Kiri nin, she wasn't sure she was even able to anymore, but she tilted her head up out of habit to stem any possible tears. Would the baby look like him? What if she didn't? Which possibility was worse? An image of a wiry, magnetic man, dressed in Kiri pinstripe, messy hair brushing over bright eyes crossed her memory.
"Ryou…"
Their units had never been based on any long-term familiarity, but rather on necessity and determined skill set. This in turn resulted in very few lasting working relationships, and even fewer deeper connections.
However, as one of the few third-caste jonin, Chiyoko often led the high-risk missions forced upon the ninja from families captured in battle or annexed into the village; missions meant to keep them too busy or too dead to revolt. Ryou, a long-range specialist chūnin, was often under her command. The Sano clan, just as the Izumi, had fought and lost against the forces of Mist, and that miasma of resignation and defeat had never left the psyche of the conquered clans.
But not Ryou.
Like a moth to the flame, Chiyoko was drawn to the charismatic man who was full of life in a way she had never before encountered. He was vibrant in a world of muted grays. He had asked her to dinner shortly upon their return from a two month recon mission together. Startled at his confidence -she was his commander after all- she stuttered out a "sure".
After eight months of dating, Chiyoko stood in front of Ryou with a shy smile and a positive pregnancy test. He had laughed in delight, and kissed her stomach with a smile like sunlight.
But sunlight couldn't last long in a world of mist. The extra assignments to make up for her pregnancy leave. A mission he didn't come back from. A small funeral with no body.
The newborn started to cry, startling Chiyoko out of her reverie. She looked to the door in alarm, hoping the medic would come in and take care of the crying infant. But when the reedy wails became louder, and it was clear no one was coming to help her, Chiyoko steeled herself and with a slight grimace of pain, turned to look at her daughter.
She was Izumi. Barely minutes old, the baby already had the clear characteristics of her clan. Pale skin that would burn then freckle if it ever saw sun, large, wide set eyes, and she already had a full head of cocoa brown hair that would surely softly wave like the rest of their clan. As she held her to her breast, the baby's crying stopped and she opened her infant blue eyes that would grow darker with age. Searching her face for any sign of Ryou, Chiyoko's gaze lingered on the baby's nose. The slight aquiline shape caused her breath to hitch and heart to clench.
There was Ryou. He was still there.
"Welcome to the world, baby. Welcome to the world…Nanami."