Chapter 32: To Konoha

Chapter 32: ''To Konoha"

The smoke had long cleared. The trees stood quiet again, as if the forest was trying to pretend nothing had ever happened. But the silence wasn't peace—it was the kind that followed a scream.

Juro stood still for a long moment, his one visible eye scanning the treetops. Behind him, the last of the makeshift graves had been covered. Small stones were placed atop the soil, not as markers—there were no names—but as a way to say, "You were here. You mattered."

Ren stood before two of those graves.

His legs were still wrapped tightly with cloth strips, reinforced by chakra suppressants and painkillers Juro had given him. Every step was a dull fire in his bones. But that wasn't what kept him frozen in place—it was the weight of what he couldn't change.

"I couldn't save either of you…" he whispered, kneeling as he placed a single carved wooden chip between the graves. It was rough, uneven. He'd spent half the night shaving it with a kunai, his hands trembling, eyes burning. Two stick figures etched into the wood. Smiling.

Behind him, Kota stood quietly. He hadn't spoken much since that day. Not out of shock—Ren could tell that. It was something else. Observation. Reflection. Like he was recording everything with cool precision.

"We should go," Juro said finally, voice low but firm. "It's not safe to stay any longer."

Tetsu, walking stiffly but alive, began guiding the small group of civilians forward. The elderly and the young—those who remained. A ragtag train of survivors.

Ren stood slowly. His knees buckled, and Kota moved instantly, offering a shoulder. Ren blinked.

"You're smaller than me," he muttered.

"Still stronger than you right now," Kota replied without expression.

That almost made Ren smile. Almost.

---

The forest road ahead wasn't a road at all—just winding dirt trails carved by animals and wanderers. Sunlight filtered through thick trees, casting long shadows. The scent of smoke still lingered on their clothes. No one had the energy to talk, not really.

Ren walked near the middle of the group, Kota to his right. He noticed the boy had taken to glancing at every tree branch, every bush. Not like a scared child—more like a soldier watching for snipers.

"You always this paranoid?" Ren asked.

"Alive, aren't I?" Kota said simply. Then added, "I watched how Aki fought. And Taro. They weren't weak. But they hesitated."

Ren didn't answer. Not right away. The memories still played behind his eyes like a cursed movie reel. The way Aki had smiled through the blood. The way Taro had reached for him, whispering something that never made it out.

"I won't hesitate next time," Kota said, more to himself.

Ren finally looked down at him. "Don't lose the part of you that feels, Kota. That's the real trick. Being sharp and still human."

Kota didn't reply. But Ren caught the flicker of emotion in the boy's eyes.

---

Juro led them quietly. His strides were strong, but Ren noticed the stiffness in his shoulder. The wound from the jonin's attack hadn't healed fully, despite chakra treatment. And he hadn't spoken more than a few sentences since they buried the dead.

As they passed through a narrow valley, the wind shifted. Juro's hand went up in a silent command. Everyone froze.

He scanned the trees again. Nothing moved.

After a long pause, he murmured, "False alarm." But Ren saw the way Juro's hand hovered near his weapon pouch for the next half hour. He hadn't forgotten the battlefield. Neither had anyone else.

---

Later that evening, as they made camp near a shallow stream, Ren sat beside a tree, trying to stretch his legs without crying out. Kota sat nearby, carving a stick with a kunai. Not for play—just to keep his hands busy.

Juro approached. His shadow fell over both of them.

"We're three days from the outer patrol routes of Konoha," he said. "If we keep pace, we'll meet them safely."

Ren looked up. "And after that?"

"You'll be registered. Evaluated. Maybe put into a new orphan program. Your chakra control will be tested." He paused. "They'll see you have potential."

Ren didn't ask what would happen to the civilians. He already knew: housed, but forgotten. War had a way of turning people into numbers.

"You did well," Juro added, softer this time.

Ren gave a hollow laugh. "They're dead."

"And you kept twenty others alive," Juro said. "That's more than most genin squads manage in war. More than some jonin."

Ren didn't reply.

Juro crouched beside him. "You asked me once how to carry the weight of killing. You'll carry it forever. But it shouldn't crush you. It should shape you."

Ren nodded slowly, biting back the sting in his eyes. "I just don't want to lose more people."

Juro looked at him for a long moment, then turned toward Kota.

"Watch his back," Juro told the younger boy. "He doesn't realize yet how much he'll need it."

"I already do," Kota said, still whittling his stick.

And for the first time that day, something close to peace passed between them.

- - -

The camp was quiet, too quiet. The graves of Aki and Taro were not far from the fire, the freshly turned earth still raw with the weight of their loss. Ren sat beside the flame, his eyes focused on the flickering orange light, though his thoughts were far away. It had been a day since they had buried Aki and Taro—his friends, his comrades. The emotional exhaustion of the last few days pressed down on him like a heavy weight, but there was no time to grieve. Not yet.

Kota sat beside him, silent, his small hands folded in his lap. The boy hadn't spoken much since the burial. His eyes were tired, though there was a hardness to them that wasn't there before. Ren could see the toll the war had taken on him. He was young, far too young for this kind of loss, and yet it had already hardened his heart in ways Ren couldn't yet fully understand.

Juro came into view from the shadows, his figure imposing even in the dim light of the fire. He had just finished checking the perimeter of their camp, ensuring no one had followed them. His posture was straight, but there was an unmistakable weariness in his eyes. The weight of the past few days, of the children he'd lost, was wearing on him more than he let on.

He stopped a few steps away from Ren and Kota, his voice gruff. "We need to talk," he said. It wasn't a question, and Ren knew this was the conversation they had been avoiding.

Ren looked up at Juro, his heart heavy. "About what?" He already knew the answer. They were leaving. The words had been hanging in the air ever since they had buried their friends.

"About moving forward," Juro replied. "There's nothing left for us here. We need to get to Konoha. It's our only option."

Ren nodded slowly, his heart sinking. Konoha. The Hidden Leaf Village. It was the one place that could offer them safety, the one place they could finally find some semblance of peace. But it was also a long journey, and it was still surrounded by danger. The war was everywhere, and it wasn't like the Leaf Village was untouched.

"Are we ready for that?" Ren asked quietly. The question wasn't just about the journey—it was about everything. About the future, about what was waiting for them once they reached Konoha. Would they even be accepted? Or would they be seen as just more refugees, displaced by war?

"We don't have a choice," Juro answered firmly, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "We keep moving forward. For Aki. For Taro. For everyone we've lost."

Kota looked up at that, his voice soft but determined. "We'll make it," he said quietly. "We can't let them down. We have to keep going."

Ren turned to Kota, his throat tight. The boy had a strength in him that Ren had only just started to recognize. Maybe it was the war that had forced him to grow up so quickly, or maybe it was just who Kota was. Either way, Ren found some comfort in the boy's determination.

Ren nodded, his voice thick with emotion. "We will."

Juro gave a small nod, his face stern. "Good. We leave at first light. Gather your things. We've got a long road ahead of us."

The three of them sat in silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. The flames flickered in the wind, casting dancing shadows over the grave of Aki and Taro. Ren could feel the weight of their presence, their loss. But there was something else too—a determination to honor them by continuing on. They couldn't afford to fall apart. Not now.

Kota stood up first, breaking the silence. "I'll get the supplies ready," he said, his voice still soft but carrying a quiet authority. He turned to Juro. "Do you want me to scout ahead?"

Juro looked at Kota with a faint smile. "You're not a scout yet, Kota," he said, though there was pride in his voice. "But if you want to help, just get ready. We need to move quickly."

Kota gave a quick nod before heading to the supplies. Ren and Juro watched him go, and for a moment, the weight of their situation seemed to lift—just a little. There was still hope, even in the darkest moments.

Ren stood up, his body aching but his resolve firm. They had to keep moving. They had to get to Konoha.

As the night settled in around them, Ren glanced one last time at the graves of Aki and Taro. He whispered a quiet promise to the wind. "I'll make sure we get there. For all of us."

- - -

The journey to Konoha had been long, arduous, and fraught with danger. Ren, Juro, and Kota had pushed themselves further than they ever thought possible, each day drawing them closer to the Hidden Leaf Village. There had been close calls—enemy patrols, wild animals, even a few near-fatal accidents—but through it all, they kept moving forward.

Now, as the sun began to set on their second week of travel, the silhouette of Konoha's towering gates finally came into view. The sight brought a rush of relief, but it also carried an undeniable weight. What would they find beyond those gates? Would they be accepted, or would they face more rejection? The unknown loomed, as it always did.

Kota was the first to spot the familiar architecture of the Hidden Leaf's gates, his small frame practically bouncing with energy. He had been unusually quiet during the journey, but now his eyes sparkled with excitement and something else—hope. Ren couldn't help but smile at the boy's enthusiasm.

"Is that...?" Kota began, his voice soft with awe.

"It is," Juro said, his voice tinged with something that might have been relief. "We're here."

They approached the gates cautiously, with Kota leading the way. As they got closer, Ren could feel the tension in the air. Konoha's security was tight, especially with the ongoing war. There was no guarantee they would be welcomed—no guarantee that they wouldn't be turned away at the gates.

"State your business!" a voice called from above.

Ren tensed. Juro, however, remained calm, stepping forward. "We're refugees from the conflict," he called out, his tone firm but respectful. "We seek refuge within Konoha's walls."

There was a pause, and Ren could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Would they be allowed entry? Would they be turned away like so many others?

The gates creaked open slowly, and a group of guards descended from the walls. Their expressions were stern, but not unkind. One of them, a tall man with a scar running across his face, stepped forward.

"You're lucky you found us," the man said, his voice low but authoritative. "The village is on high alert. We can't afford to take in just anyone." He looked at Juro carefully, scanning his face, as though judging whether he could trust him.

"We've lost too much already," Juro said quietly. "If you turn us away, you risk more lives than you know. We've seen the worst of it out there." His voice carried the weight of truth, and the man hesitated.

After a long moment, the guard nodded. "You'll be escorted to the village's refugee camp," he said. "We'll have someone look over your situation. If you're deemed a threat, you'll be dealt with accordingly."

Ren stepped forward, a quiet determination in his eyes. "We won't be a threat," he said softly. His voice cracked slightly, betraying the exhaustion and emotional toll of the journey, but the words still carried. "We just want a place to rest. A place to rebuild."

The guard studied Ren, and after a long pause, he gave a reluctant nod. "Follow us. No funny business."

Ren felt his muscles relax as they were led through the gates and into the village. The path ahead was uncertain, but they had made it this far. Konoha. The place where they could hopefully find some semblance of safety and a future.

As they passed through the streets of the Hidden Leaf, Ren took in the sights. It was a far cry from the war-torn lands they had just come from. People bustled around, going about their daily lives—parents talking to their children, vendors selling wares, groups of shinobi walking past with purpose. The village seemed almost untouched by the horrors that had been waged across the country.

"This is Konoha," Ren murmured, almost to himself.

Juro nodded. "Yes. And it's the place where you'll decide what kind of life you want to live now."

Ren glanced at him. Juro's eyes held a weight of experience that was impossible to ignore. They had both lost so much on this journey. And yet, here they were, standing at the gates of Konoha, uncertain of what would come next but holding on to the hope that things might be better.

But for now, that would have to be enough.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the village, Ren felt a quiet sense of relief. They were here. And maybe, just maybe, this would be the start of something new. Something worth fighting for.