Moonlight glancing off a shining
blade, so sharp it makes not a sound as it slices through the air. He
saw it, she didn't. He couldn't warn her, didn't have time, wouldn't
be able to reach her, not in time. She didn't even have time
to scream. The only sound that broke though the night was a
sudden sickening squelch ans crunch as flesh was punctured and bones
crushed. He watched silently as his blonde haired wife fell from the
branch into the undergrowth below. She didn't stand a chance. He
stays where he is, crouched in his own tree, silent, motionless,
impassive. She's not his wife right now, right now she's his
teammate. He'll mourn her later. Moonlight glancing off the
blade which falls to the ground. More blood, so much blood, killer
and victim lay side by side, dead. He leaves her, fleeing from
the scene, leaping through the tree canopy, the scroll clutched in
his sweaty hand. He's been close to death before, but now he couldn't
feel the death he knew was creeping up on him. The scroll
slipped from his fingers and fell through the trees below. A dark
shadow shot across below him. His foot slipped on the branch and he
fell through the canopy, grabbing blindly for a branch amid the
darkness where the moonlight didn't pierce. The branch cracked
below his fingers and he closed his eyes tight,. waiting for the bite
of cold steel he knew was inevitable. His body free fell
through the trees and hit the muddy ground with a
thump.
"Genma-kun."
The dark haired boy didn't look up, his hazel eyes fixed firmly on the floor, hand wrapped tightly around the headband he had been given. His mother's headband.
The Yondaime sighed and crouched down in front of the child. Not even a ninja yet and he was already faced with the experience of loosing someone close to him. Eleven was too young to loose one's parents. He put a finger under the boy's chin and pushed his head up, meeting the red rimed eyes and pained expression.
"W-where's dad?" The young boy choked out, rubbing his eyes and wiping away the tears that had finally stopped.
Minato sighed. How did you tell a child his father is missing, presumed dead, when he has already lost his mother?
"I'm on my own, aren't I?"
The blonde man nodded sadly and let go of the boy's chin, placing the hand on a shaking shoulder instead. He saw a tear run down the boy's cheek, half hidden by the dark bangs which hung over his eyes.
For a long while they stayed like that, the Hokage crouched motionless before a silent academy student.
*************************
A month passed and he grew used to his life with Hayate, the ill boy becoming his anchor when the world began to overwhelm him. When he awoke screaming in his sleep, or cried out for his parents at night, Hayate was there, always a comfort in the darkness, always awake the moment Genma was.
He grew used to life with Hayate's family, his father's work as a Tokubetsu Jounin, his mother's love for curry, his older sister sitting before the TV polishing her weapons. She had begun to teach Hayate to use a katana. She's tried to teach Genma too, but he'd turned out to be lousy. Instead he'd taken up spitting cocktail sticks at a pin board to vent his frustrations. Hayate's father was now teaching him to use senbon.
Over time he became integrated into family life, and by the time the graduation exam came around he was more than ready.
******************
"Genma-kun, henge if you would."
He nodded, hair falling in his eyes as he did so, the dark bangs obscuring his hazel eyes for a few brief seconds.
"Henge no jutsu." A perfect replica of the black haired Yukari-sensei appeared, the only difference in the way Yukari-Genma's black eyes were hidden by the spiky Uchiha black bangs. With a pip he was himself again, hands in the pockets of his black pants and the senbon twitched in his mouth.
"Congratulations," she handed the dark haired boy a headband. He took it silently, smiling at the sensei. It was forced and painful, but he couldn't bring himself to smile like he felt it.