POV: Orphanage Head
I settled into my worn wooden chair, the familiar creak grounding me as I faced the towering stack of paperwork on my desk. The Nine-Tails' attack had left Konoha in ruins, and the orphanages bore the weight of its aftermath. So many lives were lost, and those who survived carried scars—some visible, others buried deep. The influx of children had stretched our resources thin, and my heart ached for them.
As an orphan myself, I understood their pain, but my experience differed. I never knew my parents, never felt the warmth of their love. These children, though, had known that joy, only to have it ripped away in a single, catastrophic night. Most were beginning to heal, their laughter slowly returning as they played in the courtyard. But one child worried me: Yuji Takemura.
Yuji was retreating further into himself, his smile a fragile mask. He busied himself helping with chores—carrying water, sweeping floors—but it felt like a distraction from his grief. In the past two weeks, his training had intensified. Before, he'd practiced diligently, driven by a dream to become a shinobi. Now, his workouts bordered on obsession, as if he could outrun his pain through sheer effort. I watched him from afar, unsure how to reach him. What could I do to help a boy so determined to carry his burdens alone?
A sharp knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. Yui, one of our newer workers, peeked in, her expression apologetic. "Sorry to disturb you, Haruko-san, but someone's here to see you."
"Oh? Who is it?" I asked, setting down my pen.
"Haruki Sakamoto," she replied.
My pulse quickened. "Send him in," I said, my voice sharper than intended. Yui nodded, sensing the urgency, and hurried out.
Haruki Sakamoto was the orphanage's most generous benefactor, a man whose donations kept our doors open. Moments later, the door swung open, and a tall figure in his fifties entered, his presence commanding yet warm. His dark eyes carried the weight of a seasoned shinobi, but a faint smile softened his features.
"I hope you're doing well, Haruko-san," he said, settling into the chair across from my desk.
"I'm managing," I replied, offering a polite nod. "You didn't need to come all the way here. If you wanted to discuss something, I'd have visited you."
He waved a hand dismissively. "No need. The Nine-Tails' attack has burdened you enough. I didn't want to add to your plate." He leaned forward, his tone shifting to one of purpose. "I'll get to the point. I'm here to adopt a child."
Straightforward, as expected of a jonin. My heart lifted at the prospect—one child could find a home, a chance at a better life. "That's wonderful news," I said, clasping my hands. "Do you have any preferences? Age, gender, or any specific qualities?"
"I want to train them in the shinobi arts," he said, his voice steady. "Someone young, mature for their age, and sharp-minded. A child with potential."
I nodded, my mind already racing through the children under my care. Many dreamed of becoming shinobi, Yuji among them. "There are several children who fit that description," I said. "But I think it's best if you meet them yourself. You'll know who's the right fit."
Haruki's smile widened slightly. "Exactly what I was thinking. Let's arrange it."
As he spoke, a flicker of hope stirred within me. Perhaps this was the opportunity Yuji needed—a chance to channel his pain into purpose under the guidance of someone who could understand his drive.