DISCLAIMER: All copyrights are held by Masashi Kishimoto and other rightsholders.
Credit – The idea for this story started when I replied to shyguysteve on the Kametsu Forums. Thanks!
Prologue
IT was dark and cold. A stiff breeze blew through the trees, chilling the small group. On the ground, lay two bodies.
The first was of a short elderly man, with a helmet and wearing black armour. Close to his left hand lay a long black staff.
The other body was also dressed in black armour. However, what was striking about his appearance was his mask. A full face mask, orange in colour, with a flame motif. There was a gap in his mask, from where a piece had fallen off during the short but brutal fight.
One of the group bent down to the old man and, with a gloved hand, gently closed his eyes. He caressed a cheek for a moment then slowly stood back up. His golden hair was ruffled by the breeze. Shivering, he looked up at the sky.
"Not a cloud in the sky", he whispered. "Day like this...should be a storm. Rain, hail". He heard something, looked over at the sole woman in their group.
She was crying, partially. A few tears slid down her expressionless face and she sniffed for a moment. A delicate hand reached up to her face. She wasn't surprised: the only person allowed to touch her person was her life-long team-mate, the red haired man to her right. He gently wiped away the tears, then fished around in his pockets for a tissue. The woman smiled one of her famous barely visible smiles. After wiping away the rest of her tears, she allowed the man to wrap his arm around her and pull her close.
Another man stepped close, his orange hair clashing with the woman's blue. He put one hand on each of his friends' shoulders.
"He won't be forgotten, Konan, Nagato. He will be remembered. Right, Minato-kohai?"
The blonde man nodded. Like the other three, he had great respect for the old man.
"Sarutobi-sama will be remembered. But...why did he do it? Why use that jutsu?" He half-whispered the question. He didn't really expect a response, but the red-haired man, Nagato, let go of the woman, Konan, and stepped up to him, gripping him hard on the shoulder. He looked Minato in the eye.
"You already know the answer, Minato-kun. I won't bother explaining it, it would just be wasted breath".
Minato nodded. That was how the older man operated and lived, only doing that which was necessary. He answered questions only when the answer wasn't obvious and an explanation was surely needed.
Soft footsteps were heard, and the four of them immediately had weapons to hand. Origami birds flew about Konan's head; Yahiko reached behind him and gripped his katana; Nagato blinked and his usual grey eyes were now a light purple, with a ripple like pattern. He needed no weapon, as did Minato: for they were weapons themselves.
The footsteps stopped a few feet from the group. Their owner revealed himself as a young man wearing grey armour. A porcelain animal mask hung to the right side of his face, and a bloodied katana was held in his hands.
The young man was immediately hugged by Konan, who ran to him and held him close. Tears fell down her face, having started again once she had caught sight of his weapon.
"Oh, Itachi-chan! I'm so sorry! I...we all are!" She continued crying.
After a hesitant moment, Itachi slowly returned the hug and clung to the woman. He breathed in deeply, inhaling her scent.
A few minutes passed, then Nagato coughed. He clearly did not want to break the two of them up, but he needed to know.
"ANBU! Report your mission!"
The words had the desired effect. Itachi immediately let go of the woman, who had by then stopped crying. He stepped away from, walked to his red-haired superior and saluted.
"ANBU Boar reporting, sir. Mission complete: the...targets are dead". He said it simply, and but for the small hesitation, without emotion.
The simple report had a drastic but subtle effect on the group of older ninja. Konan's eyes widened, almost threatening to leak tears again, but didn't. Yahiko cursed and walked away a few steps, muttering some choice swears under his breath. Nagato frowned, but he wasn't surprised. Minato breathed in deep, looking around for a tree. He desperately wanted to destroy something right now.
Nagato spoke up.
"We can't decide anything right now. We must consult with Homura-sama and Koharu-sama. Konan, wrap the bodies and take them with us". Paper immediately flew around the bodies, until they were completely wrapped up. The blue haired woman made a gesture with her hand, and the bodies rose up, as if lying on a flat surface. The group then walked smartly back to the village.
Three days later...
Minato stood quietly, in front of a large stone. In his hands were a hammer and chisel, and newly written on the stone was 蒜山 サルトビ. In the old tongue, it was written as "Hiruzen Sarutobi".
Only two other names on that list meant as much to him, but today wasn't their day. They had died long ago and he had mourned for them.
He turned around, and was surprised to see Nagato there.
"I must be losing my touch, Nagato-san. I never heard you coming".
The older man nodded, fingering something in his hands. His actions drew Minato's gaze, whose eyes widened. He dropped his tools.
"I thought for sure Yahiko-sempai...He is well liked by the people".
Nagato gave a quick laugh and a small ironic grin. In a different context, what had just happened would have made him happy. But, now...
"Well liked isn't the same as respected, Minato-kohai. Yahiko is a charmer, but my actions during the last war garnered me much respect. If we weren't around, you surely would have been chosen, but experience and ability do count, and in the end, that left only me".
Minato swallowed. Since a young age, he had chased his dream, but now, his path was blocked. Still, his life belonged to the village, and he wouldn't harbour any ill-will. He saluted and looked back down.
In Nagato's hands was a tri-corner hat.