A tall man in red shinobi pants and a sleeveless flak vest stood by the edge of the platform, arms crossed, head slightly bowed to avoid the drizzle. The metal plate on his forehead protector gleamed even in the dark.
Midori recognized his outline before she saw his face. She exhaled slowly. She was used to meeting him.
She approached him with the weariness of someone who had run out of patience.
"What do you want now?" she asked, keeping her voice low but firm. "I've already met the quota."
The shinobi turned slightly, revealing a narrow face with deep-set eyes. He wasn't much older than Hayami.
"Of course, Midori-sama," he said with a polite dip of his head. "You have not only met the quota, you've exceeded expectations with the quality."
Midori didn't smile. Praise was always the curtain hiding a blade.
He continued, "However, after the Great Stone Purge a year ago… our situation has changed." His tone flattened, like he was reciting a memorized order rather than speaking as a human. "We're under enormous pressure from our enemies. Lord Tsuchikage has issued new directives. I've been sent to inform you."
Midori didn't need him to finish to know she wouldn't like it.
"Your quota has increased," he said. "And the age has been reduced to three."
Midori froze.
Her hands tightened around the bag. "Three?" she repeated. "Three years? That's too small."
He nodded, unbothered. "These are desperate times."
"Desperate doesn't mean monstrous," she snapped. "Most of the men have already been pulled to the front. Families are hanging by threads. You raise the quota now, and you'll get nothing but half-starved with the leftover men—"
"That will be a problem," he cut in, still calm. "So there's an additional measure."
"What measure?"
"To maintain quality, any woman who's crossed sixteen is to be reassigned to the cattle." He said it like he was talking about moving grain sacks. No hesitation. No disgust.
Midori stared at him, horrified.
"You can't be serious."
"Our shinobi need morale," he said. "Especially with the losses stacking up. This will help keep them… invested. And it ensures quota counts remain stable with quality."
Her voice rose despite herself. "This is too much. Lord Tsuchikage would never approve something like this. Not this."
The shinobi looked at her in a way that made her stomach turn... pity mixed with tired amusement.
"This is an S-Rank directive," he said quietly. "It determines whether Iwagakure survives the next two winters. Lord Tsuchikage approved it personally."
The world felt colder than the rain.
Midori had lived long enough to bury her illusions about shinobi, about war, about leaders. But even then… this? She didn't know whether to scream or collapse.
The shinobi lifted the small crate at his feet. "This month's supplies."
He handed it to her as if she should be grateful... a dozen milk bottles, some herbal medicine, and two ration bars. Barely enough for a week.
Midori took the crate anyway. What choice did she have? People depended on her. Babies. Mothers. Widows. If she refused, they would simply replace her with someone worse. Or arrest her. Or burn her home.
She tightened her grip on the crate, jaw clenched.
The shinobi gave a shallow bow. "We trust your… resourcefulness. Expect updates next month."
He disappeared into the night with the same indifference he arrived with.
Midori stood there alone under the thin drizzle, the weight of the supplies suddenly feeling like stones. Her knees wanted to give out. The night pressed against her chest like a hand.
Three years old.
She whispered it under her breath, again and again, as if repeating it would make it less cruel. But it didn't. It made it worse.
A faint image flickered in her mind... Hayami asleep on the mat, her newborn tucked against her heart, their breaths rising and falling as one.
She turned and started walking back, her steps slow, the rain sticking to her eyelashes.
Outside, the village felt heavy and silent... like the entire place was just waiting to break. The times will change.
When she reached her door, she paused, pressing a trembling hand to the wood.
Inside, Hayami and the baby slept peacefully, unaware of the orders that had just been handed down. Unaware of the danger already unfolding around them. Unaware that the world outside did not care who lived or died, only who could be counted.
Midori opened the door quietly. The oil lamp still glowed faintly. Hayami hadn't moved.
She set the crate down beside the stove.
Then she sat beside the sleeping pair, watching the rise and fall of the newborn's tiny chest. His face looked calm, almost serene... like he was dreaming of something kinder than this world.
Midori's eyes burned.
She whispered, so soft it barely carried through the room, "Little one… stay alive long enough to choose your own fate."
--
Morning came quietly. The clouds still hung low, bruised and swollen, but the downpour stopped just long enough for the village to breathe. Midori slipped out of her futon long before the sun finished rising. Her joints complained the way they always did. She ignored them. Habit made it easy.
She moved through her small wooden room with the practiced silence of someone who has lived too long under the same pressures. First the ledger, then the tools, then the cloth satchel. She checked her jars one last time—water, herbs, a few dried roots. Supplies were always low, but now they were worse than low. And the new orders…
She didn't let herself think about them. Thinking made everything heavier.
Hayami and Deidara were still asleep. Hayami curled protectively around the baby. Deidara's tiny face was peaceful, the faintest bubble of milk dried on his lip.
Midori watched them for a moment longer. She knew exactly how this story would play out. Hope always arrived first, bright and blinding. Then hunger. Then compromise. Then the quiet slide into something darker.
She had watched more women than she cared to count walk that path. Some ran straight into it. Some fought. Some fell. But everyone arrived there. Hayami… well, she still had that stubborn spark. The kind that made you want to shake her and protect her all at once.
--
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