A/N: I'm never good at first person P.O.V since I've never written anything like it before. My English homework this weekend was to annotate and do a close reading then essay on Suzanne Berne's Ground Zero. I personally hate annotating but in this case, I'm glad I did. It was my inspiration for the story.
It's short but I didn't want to fluff it out. Spur of the moment type writing.
I was only a little girl when my mom first told me the story (I learned later it was not a story) about the Kyuubi and the destruction it caused when I was not yet one. Her words drew, of what I thought, a haunting image of a little fox with nine small tails sticking out from behind, breathing fire on the village. Her soft voice echoed in my ears that day when she told me Yondaime gave up his life to protect the village. I realize now that it still echoes. I recall her melodic voice softening slightly when she mentioned that an infant had been cursed with the burden of the fox within him. She told me that that little boy would one day become the biggest hero of Konoha and would take the title of Hokage. Then, she told me the destruction that the Kyubbi had brought down was the biggest devastation to hit Konohagakure as of yet and then softly she whispered to me that it surely was not going to stay the biggest.
I remember being confused by her words at first but being six; I did not bother more with the subject. I was soon to experience one myself that needed no explanation.
It was disappointing to know that the second destruction cast upon Konoha, I was unconscious for more than half the time—the result of trying to protect a stronger team member than myself from a half-human half-monster boy. That day, Uzumaki Naruto (a teammate of mine) saved my life (as well as many others, now that I've considered it). My mother's words came back to me and briefly I imagined the Hokage's hat settling on top of my teammate's head and the designated Hokage's robe draping across his shoulders. That day, I learned that my dream might have been beyond my reach but his wasn't.
When I came home that evening with more than a bruise or two on me, my mother spoke to me about the ordeal between Konoha and Orochimaru. It felt like I was being told a story again, despite the fact that I was there.
Yes, I lived through the distraught of the second destruction and yes, I helped rebuild the village day by day but I could not say that I lived it. And that was something I've always regretted in my life.
What came next was the biggest destruction of all in Konohagakure. This time, I was able to say that I lived it. I lived the prime devastation that washed through Konoha but somehow, I felt as if the devastation was directed towards me more than anyone else. I was the victim; experiencing first-hand and for the first time betrayal. Even Naruto would not be able to save me from this because it was time that I learned to save myself.
When I came home that morning with a tear-stricken face and swollen eyes to match, my mother closed her eyes and let me tell the story.
That day, I set a new dream for myself.
And as I stand here now with Uchiha Sasuke (after having to break both his legs and jaw to drag him back to Konoha) the newly appointed Rokudaime (ironically, or not, Uzumaki Naruto)—seven years after the biggest desolation of my life—I realize that tonight when I come home, I'll have another story to tell my mother. Except this time, it will not be of destructions in or about Konoha but of a succeeding dream.
Mom, you won't be hearing of any destruction about Konoha for a long time.