Work Text:
Your Tears are Mine
Konoha is always quiet at night, a stark difference from bustling Tokyo. Lanterns glowed along the main streets, golden light flickering across the darkening sky. From other homes came the scent of simmered broth and grilled fish, the comfort of ordinary dinners resuming after extraordinary loss.
Miyako Tanaka, now in the persona of Kaede Morita, carried a small basket in her arms: vegetables from her grandmother’s garden, rice she had cooked herself, grilled mackerel wrapped neatly in paper, and a small jar of pickled daikon that she made with her grandmother’s guidance. Her grandmother and mother in this second life teased her about cooking food. They know that she is a sweet girl who loves sharing snacks with others but seeing her make a full meal seems like it’s something beyond generosity. She vehemently denied it with a blush on cheeks. She is just being a concerned friend and comrade for someone who just lost a father.
From the house that she now considers her home in this second life, she started seeking Asuma's chakra signature. After he went back to the village, she started memorizing his chakra. It was to find him easily when the time comes when she will save him from his canon death.
As she contemplated while walking towards the direction of his chakra signature, she could feel the lingering weight pressing in her chest caused by the memory of the Third Hokage’s funeral this morning. The dull ache feels like hidden wounds of guilt. She wanted to save Hiruzen or give him a hint so he could seal Orochimaru completely. But she can’t. Orochimaru is important for Sasuke’s character development, and Hiruzen’s death is necessary so Tsunade becomes the Fifth Hokage. Kaede needs her desperately so she can request to be her apprentice. She has worked hard so she will be deemed worthy of Tsunade’s time to train her and to ensure that she will truly be able to save Asuma.
Before she knew it, she found herself at his apartment door. The building where he lives is hushed. She could feel a sense of solitude that seemed deep… perhaps deeper than before.
She knocked on the door twice and waited patiently. As he opened the door, his brows shot up in surprise. He has changed from his mourning clothing into a black shirt with the long sleeves rolled slightly and a pair of trousers.
“Kaede?”
She raised the basket that she is holding.
“Aniue, I brought dinner.”
He blinked, then let out a tired chuckle.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know, but I wanted to.”
He looked at her for a moment as processed the fact that someone took the time to make dinner for him. A small smile curled his lips he stepped aside to let her in.
She removed her shinobi sandals after she spoke the usual courteous words.
“Pardon the intrusion.”
His apartment is simple and modest yet clearly lived in. A clean low table sat in the center of the living room. In it, traces of his habits can be seen: a stack of mission scrolls in the corner and a folded shogi board sits near the window. The air barely has the scent of tobacco and summer air drifting in from the open pane. She knows that in canon, he stopped smoking when his father died and when he found out that Kurenai was pregnant.
Kaede set down the basket, rolling her sleeves as she laid out the food. He watched with a bemused warmth as he quietly noticed with a hint of surprise that she seemed to naturally fill the space.
He muttered; his tone tinged with surprise and amazement.
“You’re full of surprises, Kaede.”
“I thought… you might not have eaten much today. And it’s better not to drink on an empty stomach.”
Her eyes flicked toward the unopened sake bottle on the shelf, causing him to let out a low laugh while rubbing the back of his neck.
“For a teenager, you sound like an old woman.”
She shot him a look.
“Better than letting you drink yourself sick.”
As they started dinner, he ate with steady appetite. With each bite, the tension in his face eased. The harsh lines softened in the lamplight as they ate in silence.
Their silence didn’t feel uncomfortable. Instead, it felt companionable. She took her time as she sipped the tea that he served. She glanced at him every now. The lingering heaviness in her heart that was caused by the funeral was soothed as she saw the way his shoulders dropped as the meal went on.
At one point, his hand almost unconsciously to his pocket where he keeps his cigarette pack. In a heartbeat, he withdrew his hand. She noticed because she knew. She knew of his habit and the restraint that he exercised on the day of Hiruzen's death and funeral. Despite the prior knowledge, the absence of tobacco lingered louder than its presence ever could have.
To break the silence and to let him know that she noticed him, she spoke quietly.
“You’re not smoking today.”
Asuma glanced at her, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. Then he shrugged.
“Didn’t feel right doing it after...”
He sighed, not finishing his sentence. Her chest tightened. She spoke softly.
”Aniue.”
Her term of her choosing for him since they met years ago fell into the air. Her tone was soft and deliberate with a gentleness meant to invite and not demand. She gave it to someone who was not asking for not expecting strength from him. It is a tone that expresses that she encourages him that it’s okay to lay down the armor of smoking and nonchalance.
His voice came, low and rough, words he had never spoken to anyone else.
“…I don’t think I was ever enough for him.”
An ache thudded in her chest as she heard his words. The hidden pain felt sharper than any blade.
His hands curled at his sides as he continued.
“Everyone else saw the ‘Third Hokage.’ The Professor. The God of Shinobi. But I…”
His voice sounded like his throat formed a lump. He swallowed hard before expressing himself once more.
“He is my father. And still… I couldn’t reach him. I left the village. I argued with him more than I listened. When he told me to protect the King, I… I still don’t understand what he meant.”
He let out a hollow laugh as he shook his head.
“What kind of son am I, to be here now, still wondering what the hell his last lesson meant?”
His jaw clenched as grief and frustration flickering across his eyes. Despite the attempt to not sound like he is emotional, she felt the weight of unshed tears pressing like a storm beneath the surface.
She wanted to tell him: you were enough. Hiruzen loved you, even if you didn’t see it. You will eventually understand the metaphor. But she decided not to. Some truths couldn’t be spoken for him for them to be more meaningful and to have more impact. She knows that eventually, he will find the truth through his own steps. Instead, she decided to speak words that come from the heart.
“Aniue, you don’t have to carry anything by yourself. I am willing to lend an ear. I won’t say words that you might think are empty or simply said to placate you. I just want you to feel that someone believes in you, that someone will never judge you if you decide to lay down your armor and temporarily tuck away the walls.”
He looked at her as his shoulders slowly relaxed while a genuine smile formed on his lips.
“For someone who is ten years younger than me, you really are mature.”
She let out a chuckle as her inner thoughts formed in her mind. Technically, I was 19 when I got reincarnated. So, now that makes me the same age as you Asuma. Before she could respond, he spoke again.
“Thank you, Kaede. Truly.”
She returned his smile with a warm smile.
—-
Eventually, he decided to lighten the mood and shifted from the heavy talk. She talked about how her grandmother would excessively fuss on her despite being healthier now, her brother teasing her about cooking rice too carefully, the way Konoha smelled fresher after rain. He asked if she ever played shogi. She admitted she hadn’t in years, but she’d watched her father and brother play. She meant the ones from her first life, but of course she won’t say that out loud. His eyes lit faintly at that, as if some part of him wanted to invite her to try a match.
Reflective silence occasionally punctuated their small talk. He sipped his tea as he stared at the clock or the empty space across the room, and she let the quiet stand. As the silence gets broken and he returns to the moment, his eyes reflected the faintest look of relief, as if her presence had made the silence bearable.
By the time the hands of the wall clock reached nine, she straightened her jacket as she stood up reluctantly.
“I should go. You know how it is with my fussing family.”
He leaned back as he nodded in understanding. He studied her with unreadable eyes.
“Thank you, Kaede. For today. For… being here.”
A faint smile curled her lips.
“No need to thank me, but you’re welcome. Just remember what I told you because I meant it. You don’t have to carry everything alone. If you need someone, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’ll listen.”
He looked at her for a long time. Long enough that warmth stirred in her chest, almost too much to bear. Then he exhaled and nodded.
“…Alright.”
She held her basket that has now-empty containers. She took her jacket from the coat hanger and wore her shinobi sandals back on at the door. She glanced back and saw that he was still at the table, one arm braced on the wood, his eyes following her with something caught between grief and something softer.
“Goodnight, Asuma-niisan. Until next time.”
“Goodnight, Kaede.”
And with that, she stepped into the cool night, the echo of his voice lingering like embers long after the door closed.
—-
Before she went to sleep, she wrote once more in her diary — words that she cannot tell anyone, the secret that she was reincarnated in this world, that she knows the flow of the story. She filled the pages of her diary since she was six years old, not as Kazehara Kaede but as Tanaka Miyako. She learned how to do a basic sealing jutsu to protect her privacy, in case someone ends up finding her diary.
Today was the Third Hokage’s funeral.
It rained for a little while, then the sun came out again. That felt unfair. The world shouldn’t have the right to shine on a day like this.
I ended up standing beside Asuma. In the anime, I only saw him for a few seconds at this funeral: his brows furrowed, his jaw tight, Kurenai whispering that it was raining before the frame shifted away. I don’t even know who was standing beside his right side. In this world, I was on that side. I saw more beyond what the anime and the manga panels. I saw his tightened jaw and furrowed brows more closely, noticed how he sort of held his breath, as if it could betray him and show his emotions.
I placed a white chrysanthemum before his portrait, just like every shinobi. His face was serious in that frame — the Hokage everyone knew. But I remember his last expression, the one no one else here saw. He died smiling. That smile hurt more than anything today.
Then I saw him walk forward and offer his flower. I saw him linger when everyone else left. Details that were never shown in the anime nor in the manga. It’s still surreal even if it has been years.
Tonight, I cooked for him. Without any prompt, he told me words he never spoke in the story — that he didn’t think that he was ever enough.
I wanted to tell him the truth, that he was enough, that his father loved him. But those aren’t my words to give. All I could do was stand there and promise that he doesn’t have to carry it alone.
I stayed until 9 PM, and then I left reluctantly so my family wouldn’t worry. He thanked me. He doesn’t need to. I just want him to know I’ll be there whenever he needs someone to listen.
Someday, when the time comes, I will be stronger. I will learn everything Tsunade can teach me. And I will save him.
I promise.
—Miyako