Naruto: Starting By Saving Mikoto

She nodded slowly, but the doubt lingered in her eyes. "I know… but it's hard not to wonder. What if I had spoken up for myself? What if I had fought harder for what I wanted?"

Hiro's hand moved almost instinctively, reaching out to gently grasp hers.

The warmth of his touch startled her, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she found herself gripping his hand a little tighter, as if seeking comfort in his presence.

"You're stronger than you think," Hiro said softly.

"You've been through so much, and you're still here, still fighting. That says more about your strength than any decision you made in the past."

Mikoto looked at him, her heart catching in her chest. The sincerity in his words, the way he saw her—truly saw her—made something inside her stir.

She had been alone with her guilt and regret for so long, but now… now there was someone who understood, who was willing to share the burden.

"You're not alone, Mikoto," Hiro continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "Whatever happens, whatever you're carrying, I'm here. We're in this together."

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, a soft smile forming on her lips. "Thank you, Hiro," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I… I needed to hear that."

They sat there in silence for a moment, the connection between them deepening with each passing second.

Hiro's hand still held hers, and for the first time in a long while, Mikoto felt a flicker of hope, a sense of possibility she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years.

As the last rays of the sun disappeared, casting the village below in shadow, Mikoto turned to Hiro, her voice soft but firm. "Maybe… maybe it's time I stopped looking back. Maybe it's time to start thinking about what I want… now."

Hiro met her gaze, his heart pounding. "And what do you want, Mikoto?"

She hesitated, her mind racing with thoughts she had long suppressed. But as she looked into Hiro's eyes, she knew the answer, even if she wasn't ready to say it out loud just yet.

"I'm still figuring that out," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "But… I think I'd like to find out with you."

soon they returned to house as hiro comfertabley sat down thinking about the progess they made in the year 

They returned to the house, the comfort of its familiar walls wrapping around them like a protective cocoon. As they settled in, Hiro allowed himself a moment to reflect on how far they had come in the past year.

Hiro leaned back against the wall, his mind wandering. His chakra levels had surged over the months, edging closer to the strength of a Jonin. 

Mikoto, already a seasoned Jonin, had regained her previous strength and more. 

She had taken it upon herself to teach him, guiding him through the rigorous training needed to master the Uchiha clan's formidable techniques.

The weight of what lay ahead pressed heavily on Hiro. He had mastered nearly all the Uchiha clan's techniques to a level he could be proud of, but he knew that it wouldn't be enough to face what was coming.

He couldn't stay hidden forever. The threats were too great—the Otsutsuki clan, Madara, Zetsu—all of them loomed over this small shinobi world like a storm waiting to break.

A year had already passed since the massacre. Hiro knew he had only four to five years before the main plot would begin, if his memory served him correctly.

The massacre had occurred when Sasuke was just seven, and the plot would begin when he was around twelve or thirteen.

Hiro's thoughts were interrupted as Mikoto entered the room, her presence a calming balm to his troubled mind. She had been his anchor.

Over the past year, they had lived in relative seclusion, hidden away from prying eyes, relying on each other to survive in a world that had been mercilessly torn apart.

Mikoto, once the proud and graceful matriarch of the Uchiha clan, now carried an air of quiet resilience.

But there was a softness to her now, a vulnerability that she only allowed Hiro to see. She approached him with a gentle smile.

"You're thinking too much again," she said softly, her voice soothing.

Hiro forced a smile. "Just trying to figure out our next move. We can't stay hidden forever."

Mikoto's smile faded slightly as she moved closer, sitting beside him. "I know. But for now, we're safe. And Sasuke… he's safe too."

 ...

"Still no traces found?" Danzo's voice was laced with barely restrained anger as he glared at the Root ninja kneeling before him.

Almost a year had passed since the last team he sent to find and kill Mikoto Uchiha had gone missing, and still, there were no signs of her.

"No, Danzo-sama," the Root operative replied, his tone measured and emotionless. "We've scoured every possible location, but she has completely vanished."

Danzo clenched his fists, the only outward sign of his mounting frustration.

To the world, Mikoto Uchiha was presumed dead. But he knew better. He had never been convinced of her demise, and his instincts had been right.

The fact that she was still alive—and out of his reach—was an infuriating thorn in his side.

"Continue the search," he ordered coldly. "I want her found, no matter the cost. If she's still alive, she poses a threat to everything we've worked for."

The Root ninja bowed low before disappearing into the shadows, leaving Danzo alone with his thoughts.

His fingers drummed impatiently on the armrest of his chair as he contemplated the implications. Mikoto's survival wasn't just a loose end; it was a potential disaster.

She knew too much, and if she were to align herself with the wrong people, it could unravel years of carefully laid plans.

He would not allow that to happen.

Danzo's eyes narrowed as he considered his options. The Root's resources were vast, but they had limits.

He needed a new approach, something that would flush Mikoto out of hiding. And if he couldn't find her directly, he would target those she might seek out for help.

The Uchiha clan might be gone, but their legacy, their bloodline, still lingered in the shadows.

 ...

Far from Konoha, Konan stood on a high cliff, overlooking the vast, rugged terrain of Ame no Kuni (The Land of Rain).

The rain fell steadily, as it always did in her homeland, soaking her blue hair and drenching the cloak she wore. 

She barely noticed it anymore; the rain was as much a part of her as her own heartbeat.

Her gaze was distant as she considered the latest developments within the Akatsuki. 

The organization had grown stronger, their ranks filling with powerful, dangerous individuals, each with their own motives and ambitions. 

But it was their shared goal—peace, through any means necessary—that bound them together.

Yet, Konan couldn't shake the unease that had settled in her chest. 

The Akatsuki's methods had become increasingly ruthless, and the lines they were willing to cross seemed to blur more each day. 

She had always trusted Nagato's vision, believed in the necessity of their actions, but something deep within her had begun to stir, questioning the path they were on.

Recently, troubling news had reached her through her network. There were rumors of Uchiha clan survivors—specifically, one named Mikoto Uchiha, the mother of Itachi Uchiha. 

If the information was correct, Mikoto had survived the massacre and vanished that very night.

The name Uchiha carried immense weight, a legacy of power, blood, and betrayal that ran deep in the veins of those who bore it. 

If Mikoto had indeed survived, she could be a valuable asset—or a dangerous enemy. Konan knew the potential in such a figure, and the implications of her existence were not lost on her.

As she turned away from the cliff's edge, heading back toward the hidden base, Konan's mind raced with possibilities. 

Should the Akatsuki be the ones to find Mikoto, to see if she could be persuaded to join their cause? Or would it be wiser to leave her hidden, away from the growing storm that threatened to consume everything in its path?

Konan knew she would have to discuss this with Nagato.

But for now, the rain continued to fall, and she moved through it with the silent grace of someone who had long since accepted the weight of her burdens, even as new ones loomed on the horizon.