"They found him," he said.
Then Jiro stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind him. The wood clicked closed, quiet and final.
Shinji just stood there. His heart didn't beat faster. His mind didn't race. He just stood, very still, watching the door like something might come back through it.
"They found him," Hana whispered. "That means he's…"
She stopped.
Shinji sat down slowly, legs folding under him without much thought. He didn't know what he felt. His hands were cold. His head was hot. Everything inside him was mixed up—like someone had taken all the thoughts and feelings and shaken them like a jar of nails. He stared at the floor.
Goro was gone.
That didn't feel real.
Not gone like "left the village" or "went away for work." Gone like they found him. Gone like not breathing. Gone like never coming back.
He tried to picture Goro's face, but the image wouldn't stay still. Sometimes it was when he was smiling, hammer resting on his shoulder. Sometimes when he was frowning at Ren, arms crossed and smudged with soot. Sometimes he was just a shape, a tall figure in the smoke.
Uncle Goro had always been there. Louder than most people. Bigger than life. And now he was gone.
"They're going to bring him back to the square," Hana said. She stood near the window, but her shoulders were tight. Her hands were clenched in her sleeves.
Shinji stayed where he was. He didn't want to go. But he knew he had to.
By the time they stepped outside, the morning mist had thickened again. The village was quiet, but not the usual morning kind of quiet. This was something else. Heavy. Like the fog was trying to hold all the sounds down.
People were already gathering.
No one talked much. Just short murmurs. Slow steps. In the center of the square was a cart. It looked small. Too small.
Masato stood nearby, arms folded. His face was hard, but his eyes weren't. Shinji held Hana's sleeve as they walked. She didn't pull away.
No one lifted the cloth right away. Everyone knew what was under it. A few people tried to act busy. One of the older women brought incense and set it down gently. Someone else brought a folded white sheet.
Ren wasn't there. Shinji's stomach twisted at that. He wanted to find him. To drag him here. To tell him he had to be here. But he also didn't want to see his face when he came.
Masato finally reached for the edge of the cloth. Only a few people leaned in to look. Shinji didn't. He turned his face into Hana's arm, even though she was shorter than him. He didn't want to see. He didn't need to.
The people who looked didn't say anything. But Shinji heard one of them suck in a breath.
Another said softly, "At least he was facing it. He didn't run."
That didn't help. It made it worse. Jiro came to stand behind them. His hand rested lightly on Shinji's shoulder, solid and warm, but it didn't steady anything inside him.
Then someone whispered, "It's Ren."
Shinji turned. Ren had come into the square barefoot. His hair was a mess. His shirt was too thin for the cold. He walked slowly, but without looking up, like the world was a dream he wasn't convinced was real.
He stopped a few steps away from the cart and just… stood there.
He didn't cry.
Didn't move.
Didn't blink for a long time.
Then he reached out and lifted the cloth himself.
No one tried to stop him.
Shinji wanted to look away, but he didn't. Not this time. He owed it to Ren.
Goro didn't look like Goro anymore. There was blood dried into the cloths they'd used to cover the broken parts of him. His hands were still clenched.
Ren stared down at him.
His face didn't change.
Then he put the cloth back.
Turned around.
And walked away.
No one followed.
Not even Hana.
Later, back at the house, Shinji sat on the porch steps with his knees pulled up to his chest. He didn't cry. He wasn't sure why.
The tears were there. His throat hurt. His head pounded. But nothing came out. Hana sat beside him, elbows on her knees.
Her eyes were red.
"He didn't even say anything," she whispered. "Not to Goro. Not to us."
Shinji didn't know what to say. He stared down at his hands.
"I wanted to say goodbye," Hana continued, her voice thin, like it might crack if she spoke any louder. "But it didn't feel like a goodbye. It felt like something got stolen."
Shinji said nothing. He couldn't. But what she said made something tighten in his chest. Not in a painful way. More like when a string got pulled too hard and didn't snap—but just stayed stretched.
That sounded right.
He didn't feel finished.
He felt like the ground had cracked under him, but only a little. Just enough to make everything tilt slightly. Like walking across the floor in the dark and not noticing it's uneven until you stumble. Enough to lose balance. Enough to never quite feel steady again.
"I keep thinking he's still out there," Hana whispered. "That if I wait long enough, I'll hear his hammer again. That heavy clang. Like thunder. Like everything was fine."
Shinji glanced at her, but she wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were somewhere else.
"I used to think nothing could hurt him," she said. "Not even a ninja. He was like a wall."
"He was bigger than everyone," Shinji said quietly. "But not in the way that made people afraid."
Hana nodded slowly. "He made people feel safe. Just by being loud."
Shinji thought of Ren. Alone in the forge. Sitting in silence.
"I don't want anything bad to happen to Ren," he said.
Hana didn't answer right away. She blinked, slowly.
"It already did," she finally said.
The way she said it didn't sound bitter. Just sad. So deeply sad that it didn't need to be loud. Like it had sunk into her bones and just lived there now.
They sat there for a long time.
Only the stillness of grief between them. The kind of silence that wasn't empty. It was full—of memories, of questions, of all the words they didn't know how to say yet.
Shinji rested his chin on his knees.
"I wish we were older," he said after a while.
"Why?"
"Because I'd know what to do."
Hana gave a faint, broken laugh. "Adults don't know either. They just pretend better."
That made him smile a little, though it didn't last.
"I keep thinking about how fast it happened," Hana said. "How we were sitting by the river two days ago talking about practicing more chakra stuff… and now…"
She didn't finish. She didn't need to.