Chapter Text
Exhausted from another day of rebuilding Konoha, Yamato wandered home to his small apartment. Home is a strong word, his apartment was bare except for the essentials, but it’s hard to know how to make a home when you’ve never felt like you had one. Sticking his key in the lock he sighed as he entered and put his happuri down and surveyed the small room and thought about what it lacked.
Not that he had many personal effects before Pain destroyed the village, he had precious little now. Even his characteristic cat mask from his days in the ANBU had been a victim to the destruction. Nothing to hide behind now, and a name that fit fine most days, it had been months since the war, winter had passed uneasily and now that the weather had warmed again his skills were once again in demand in the rebuilding. He hadn’t had the time to recover from the aftermath of being kidnapped, being used as a weapon against his allies, and trapped in a dream too good to be true, let alone accumulate knickknacks and other signs of a life being lived.
His home didn’t have a lot to say about him, but he supposed there wasn’t much to say. Of the few things that he had, everything was in its place. His bed neatly made, his clothes neatly packed in his dresser with nothing on top, a desk with a few writing implements, a couch, a table with two chairs and a small kitchenette, framed on every side by bare walls. The tiny living space felt too big.
Perhaps I should commission Sai for some art to liven up this pitiful living space, he thought to himself.
In some ways it seemed like he went from being a tool of destruction to a tool of construction, always striving to be of use but never any time to put into himself. He had the finest service record of any shinobi alive and had run himself ragged in the attempt to rebuild the village. He understood that everyone was trying to get life back to normal, but the lack of acknowledgement of his effort in pouring his entire self into the village still smarted a bit.
As he got home he went through his routine that felt nearly mechanical, fitting for the man who feels like a machine. Fixing himself a meal that, like his surroundings, felt more utilitarian than comforting. He bathes and looks at tired brown eyes in the mirror and gets ready for bed so he can be up early to do it all again.
Y/N was out wandering the woods surrounding Konoha. She often wandered the woods by the light of the full moon, and found clearings to count stars on the new moon. Home was a difficult place to find in this strange “after.”
Having grown up in the village, she missed the way the village looked in the moonlight, the way the leaves the village was named for cast shadows on the ground, the way they danced. The bare ground the village was being rebuilt in felt sterile, she darted through the trees by the light of the Flower Moon, a time for new beginnings and transformation, but she didn’t feel it.
Another victim of the village, Y/N was brought up as a shinobi with her peers from childhood. Calling her a healer would be a stretch, healers took oaths to do no harm, she had taken no such oath and had taken enough lives in the Fourth Shinobi War to feel the balance of her deeds tipped towards harm.
She spent her day rehabilitating those who had survived the war with injuries. Using blood soaked hands to mend the wounds of those who had made it home.
Home was a strong word for the village that had been ravaged by Pain, Y/N thought.
Home was less a place to her, and more the people you’re with, and many of her comrades had lost their lives in the war. Those who made it back had been changed, physically, mentally, emotionally. Y/N included. By day Y/N tended to the wounds of the body and soul, and by night, she wondered if anyone cared enough to tend to hers. She put her whole being into alleviating the pain of others, so she didn’t have to think about hers.
By the light of the moon she hand pieced fabric to make into a quilt, her collection of quilts were collateral damage, and sometimes she felt if she could piece these disparate pieces of fabric into something useful, she could do it to herself. She fell asleep in the trees under the full moon, waiting for the next day to start to do it all again.
Yamato rose before the sun the next day, if sleep wasn’t easy before the war, it was nigh impossible after. Each night he was taunted by the vision of a life and companionship that seemed ever out of reach with the burdens placed on his shoulders.
He liked to train on the training grounds in the morning, one part of Konoha that had mostly been spared by Pain. He could ask Kakashi for some reprieve, he knew his friend would oblige him, but everyday on his way back into the village he passed the tents serving as temporary shelter for displaced residents with a pang in his chest as there were still so many. He dragged himself to the worksite of the day, it was uncharacteristically warm for spring in Konoha and the sun was bearing down.
Using his wood release was taxing, but he pushed himself to the point of exhaustion thinking of the tired faces he passed on his way into town. So focused on the mission at hand, it was easy to lose sight of himself.
Yamato began to tire, building after building. One more building done, several families housed, rinse and repeat. The heat was a distant thought, as he brought a large apartment complex to life with a matter of hand signs Yamato realized he might have pushed beyond his limit. He swayed on his feet. Yūki, one of the planners he had been working with shouted as he fell, blackness overtaking his vision.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he hears as he blinks his eyes open. He takes in his surroundings, blessed air conditioning, scratchy blanket, his limbs and the hawk-like gaze of the kunoichi in a medical uniform in front of him impossibly heavy.
Hospital, then. His mind supplied.
His voice was scratchy from disuse. “How did I get here?” he rasped.
“Your friend brought you in when you passed out at a job site," she checks his chart. "Yamato?" he nods. "I’m Y/N, I’ll be the physician overseeing your recovery for today. You’re chakra exhausted.” She paused and regarded him with sharp eyes and a wry smile that had his heart stuttering in his chest. “Tell me, how does one get chakra depletion at a construction site? It’s quite an unusual hazard for that kind of work.”
Yamato chuckled and blushed, feeling exposed under her gaze. “Well, um, it’s a long story as to how, but I can use wood release, I’ve been rebuilding the village.”
Her interest piques, and a look of awed surprise lights her face. If her wry smile made his heart skip a beat, the full smile that stretched her face just about stopped it.
The thought rose unbidden: I want to taste that smile.
He shook the thought as if he could physically dislodge it.
“You must be the one who is responsible for the quick pace of recovery then,” she said.
Not quick enough,
his mind supplied. He just smiled at her bashfully, words stuck in his mouth. She took pity on him and continued speaking.
“You gave us quite a scare, I’m afraid you’re going to be stuck in the hospital for a few days. You need nourishment, water and lots of rest, but we need to keep an eye on you because you’re still having trouble moving,” he opens his mouth to protest but she shoots him a sharp look. “No arguing, and you have to take it easy and I’ll dismiss you when I feel like you’re stable, but you really overdid it, it could be quite a few days before you get out of here.”
He groaned and thanked her for her time. She showed him how to summon a nurse in case he needed help and as she left the reality of his impending boredom came crashing down on him. He sighed and contented himself knowing that the beautiful medical nin would be back to round on him later.
Y/N took a centering breath outside Yamato’s hospital room. His eyes had captivated her, and she smiled to herself thinking about how earnest and bashful he was when revealing that he was the cause for the progress of the village being rebuilt. Too modest, he was. But he definitely overdid it, he is a shinobi, but she hadn’t run into him before. Curious about the handsome ninja, she checked his file, but there was almost nothing about him in it. Or rather, there was plenty there, but it had been almost completely redacted. She had seen enough of those files to know that he probably worked in covert operations. Which meant he was dangerous too, she smiled to herself.
I like a little danger.
The hours dragged on, word of his collapse must have reached the Hokage, as Pakkun had arrived with a note from Yamato’s senpai that he heard he was in the hospital. He sent his well wishes but expressed regret that he was tied up and Shikamaru wouldn’t let him escape and promised he would try to visit when he could.
Y/N rounded on Yamato before she went home for the night. Wearing that half smile that made his stomach flip.
“Is there anyone I can call on to tell them you’re in the hospital? Anyone you want to have visit? It’s a little empty here, could I bring you a book or some cards?”
Yamato smiled at her care, but it felt more like a grimace. He was almost always alone, but something about being alone in the hospital seemed unbearable, but he didn’t want to be a bother to anyone. “I’ve got no one to visit me, but a book might be nice,” he said blandly.
Her smile turned down into a frown noticing his change in tone, and Yamato’s stomach dropped, thinking he’d disappointed her. “No visitors? I’ll tell you what, tomorrow is my day off, what do you say to a little company?”
He was about to jump at the chance, but he didn’t want to appear desperate for her company, despite how badly he wanted it. An idea hit him, “only if you promise to bring something good to eat, I don’t know how I’m supposed to recover with the bland hospital rations.”
She looked at him with an amused smile and assured him she’ll be back in the morning in time for visiting hours.