Time's Spinning Gears

Chapter 1- Awake, Alive, Aware

Warnings: Mild Violence, Possible Swearing, AU

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. This is a nonprofit work.

--o0oOOOo0o—

When Minato woke, the first thing he saw was a fuzzy white blob that might have been a ceiling.

He watched the blob, bemused, as it changed forms from rabbits to cats to distorted faces, and finally, a certain student's mop of irrepressible grey hair. That was a bit much. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, allowing the sharp corners and contrasting gray shadows of the walls to come into focus. He breathed, finally smelling the scent of antiseptic that permeated the air. He was in the hospital.

Minato shivered against the air that swirled around him, snuggling deeper into the white sheets. He was perfectly content to lay here, warm, comfortable, and alive.

It hit him then.

He was alive. Not a dead soul in the Shinigami's stomach, not a mere ghost of what he was, but a living, breathing human boy. Alive.

It was a strange concept, Minato mused, especially after being dead for so long. He inhaled the warm air, reveling in the sensation. He could breathe again.

He listened carefully for the hustle and bustle of the hospital, absorbing every new sound, smell, and touch like a starving man. He no longer walked in a black, empty, silent void; he instead lay in the relatively peaceful silence of his room in Konoha General Hospital. It was only four, bare white walls with one door, a boring brown table, a dull tan chair, and a cold gray filing cabinet, but Minato couldn't be happier.

"I'm alive..." He whispered. It was like a dream. He trailed a hand along the brushed metal railing of his small hospital bed, about the size of a large cot. An IV bag filled with a clear liquid hung on a movable stand next to him, letting his (Naruto's, he insisted) body get the liquids it needed. He poked at the needle in the vein of his right arm, wincing at the sharp, burning sensation. Pain, his mind told him.

It had been a long time since he had encountered any real physical pain, he reflected- Blood, his mind sang, and the red liquid coated the ground and the Iwa nin's bodies, and flowed out of the wound in his side, covering everything in a heavy fog of crimson- a fox chuckled malevolently, tearing down Konoha, bodies bubbling from the heat of its corruptive chakra, frail as the ash that choked the sky. He slammed down his mental barriers, calling on a power he didn't know he had. A pale yellow seared behind his eyes, blocking off the red demonic chakra and the fox's howl of rage, cursing its sealer. Kekkai Genkai, his traitorous mind supplied. So that was it, he thought dully. The Shinigami's gift.

He honestly wasn't sure whether to be grateful or not. On one hand, he had never wanted to be alive again in the first place, getting a second chance when Naruto could not. On the other, he wanted- no, needed this closure.

For twelve years, ten months, ten days, eleven hours and twenty-seven minutes, he had remembered, suffered, and never allowed himself to forget. Kushina. Naruto. Jiraiya. Sarutobi. Kakashi. The five people he left behind, whom he treasured most. He missed Kushina, her bright, beautiful scarlet hair and her twinkling green eyes and her cheerful optimism, and when she died, the sky faded to an ashen grey in his world. He'd failed Naruto, when he found that the village treated him like trash to be tossed out on the streets. Then Naruto was stolen into the void, too, and the sun vanished. The Sandaime stayed alive, mired in a sea of politics and black treachery. Jiraiya was still wandering, lost after the death of his student. And Minato cried for Kakashi, when the boy refused to do so himself. Cold, stoic, and utterly broken, hidden away behind a mask so fragile that if anyone cared to look, it would shatter into a million pieces. He was twenty-six, now, was it? And still as stubbornly dense as ever.

Kakashi clung to his guilt and insecurities the same way he clung to his carefully constructed shields. Beneath the outer, porcelain shell there was an even stronger one beneath. If you got too close, saw his true feelings, a stony, solid wall rose and harshly shoved you away. He would reject you, drive you away until you were blinded by anger, and you no longer cared. He lived for the people in the past, for his promises to the dead, and for his obligations in the present. The only ones to ever make a door through this last defense, who persevered and prevailed, were Obito, Jiraiya, Kushina, and Minato himself. Minato hated masks. He was sick of them.

Every time he used them, or someone precious to him used them, a deep, aching pain buried itself in his chest and worked its way into his throat until he couldn't breathe and nearly choked on his words. It never showed, though. He was the Hokage. He was a shinobi.

It hurt the most when Naruto used the masks.

Minato closed his eyes.

Naruto.

His cover was a completely different one than Kakashi's; then again, he was a completely different kind of person. It was far harder to see.

The only way Minato knew about it was because Kushina used to have the same one. Kakashi had exchanged his cold façade for this one as well. Minato used it himself, when he had been alive.

It showed in Naruto's bright grin, blocking out anything else you might have seen.

It stood out in the false cheeriness of the sky-blue eyes.

The façade crumbled when Naruto slumped at the ramen stand, disheartened and disillusioned by the villagers. Iruka slowly ground away the obscuring hard stone, revealing soft gold beneath when tears pricked at the corners of Naruto's eyes, even when the boy was grinning madly, willing the pain away. Iruka knew Naruto's pain, and helped him through it. Minato was grateful for that comfort, at least.

It hurt him more than Naruto would ever know.

Minato vowed to change the way the villagers saw Naruto. He would make them accept the Kyuubi jinchuriki, and they would swallow it, the bitter pill, like it or not. He reminded himself, again, that killing the various citizens of Konoha would not endear him to them- the fox jumped forwards and offered terrible power, scenes of bloody carnage flashing before his eyes as Konoha was set aflame by demonic chakra- Minato forced the fox back again, a wave of yellow sweeping away the scene, as if it had never been there.

Minato settled back into his pillows, exhausted. Holding the fox's mind back took a lot out of him. He looked at the seal now imprinted on his stomach; it had weakened ever so slightly. Minato sighed, relieved. At least Naruto had never had to deal with this.

He cursed the fox, cursed the stupidity of humanity in general, and cursed Uchiha Madara to an eternity in hell. It was all the man deserved. He finally turned his thoughts in a less violent direction, wondering exactly where the hell Jiraiya was, anyway. He had been named Naruto's Godfather, so where was he?

Minato jumped, abruptly startled out of his reverie when someone knocked at his door and entered. His senses were far below what they used to be; he'd have to work on that.

The nurse there smiled kindly, and pity was the only emotion apparent in her eyes. Minato remembered her; she was the one who treated Naruto after he was beaten. He forced himself to recall that not all citizens deserved to die a painful death.

"Naruto?" She questioned gently. Her voice was soft, kind, and reassuring, with no trace of deception.

Minato blinked and turned to face her, surprise and relief overtaking the nurse's features. "Nurse-san?"

"You're awake!" She smiled happily. Her nametag read, Yumi Namiko.

"What happened?" Minato inquired.

"You were beaten again, during the festival." Namiko explained. She held a clipboard, with Naruto's stats and injuries written out for her to read.

Again. Had it really happened enough to be a regular occurrence? Minato stayed silent.

"You were in a coma for three days," she continued, "with extensive bruising, and mild internal bleeding." A hint of venom entered her voice. "They were executed, as per the orders of the Sandaime."

Minato, once more, remained quiet. He wasn't sure how Naruto would react to this situation. He always cut the connection to the living world whenever Naruto was beaten.

"Are you alright?' Namiko asked. Normally, the boy was much louder, and more exuberant.

Minato's thoughts ground to a halt. The first thing he blurted out was, "I missed three days of ramen?!" It exactly matched the incredulous and shocked tone Naruto might've taken. Minato was half-surprised at how well he imitated Naruto's actions.

The nurse laughed, wondering why she ever worried in the first place. That was what he'd noticed? Naruto was absolutely fine. "Okay, I'll bring some ramen up for you to eat soon. Your 'old man'," Her eyes twinkled mischievously, "will be coming over to take you home later." Her amusement gained by calling the Hokage an old man was obvious.

Minato pouted, following the actions of a body he didn't really know. "I'll take that hat from jiji one day! Believe it!" It felt so… foreign to have those happy, naive words pass through his mind. He'd been a Kage before, and he was prepared to do it again, if only to help Naruto… and maybe Konoha.

She chuckled softly as she checked his heart and brain activity monitor, removing the IV and handing him a glass of water instead. "Drink," she ordered. He did so obediently.

He'd had the ire of the hospital staff brought down on him one time when he had Hiraishin'd away from the place. Needless to say, Minato didn't do it again.

The nurse left, to go buy some Ichiraiku's ramen, he assumed, and Minato was once more left to his thoughts.

--o0oOOOo0o—

Hiruzen Sarutobi.

The Sandaime Hokage, leader of Konohagakure.

He was old, and weary, and tired. Age spots decorated the wrinkled skin, the crinkles around his eyes and the frown lines around his mouth showing like on crumpled paper. White hair hung hidden by the wide brim of the Hokage's hat, and the fabric draped beneath it. He was stooped, hunched over, and decrepit, but nothing reduced the piercing intensity of his gaze. The Professor, indeed.

Namiko reported. "Hokage-sama, there seems to be no lasting repercussions of this incident, despite the coma. He is acting as he usually does."

Sarutobi nodded, trusting her. She had been the most understanding medic nin of the Hospital at the time, so he had assigned her to the care of what many referred to as, 'the demon brat'. She met his expectations and treated Naruto with kindness, and later, sympathy after she learned of the many injuries he acquired over the years.

"Perhaps I'll come in to visit later, after I finish this report." He said, gesturing at the lengthy scroll partially unrolled on his oak desk. "Meanwhile, has Ibiki finished the interrogations yet?"

"Yes, he has, Hokage-sama. One was found to be an Iwa-nin spy." The first two had had answers quickly wrested from them, then were quietly executed and their bodies returned to their families. However, the third put up an inordinate amount of resistance for a seeming civilian, and was put through torture designed to break shinobi. He had been given a mission to kill the Kyuubi Jinchuriki, and had been the one to strike the near-fatal blow that left Naruto into a coma.

The Sandaime nodded, wearily. "I know. That is what this report is about. Apparently, Iwa has been more active than we would like."

She inclined her head. "Indeed."

"Well, inform me of anything that might indicate the seal breaking. The coma could have weakened his mental state, allowing the Kyuubi through. Behavior like sudden temper, hate, and resentment appearing is to be reported immediately. Anything else could be because of his coma." Sarutobi ordered. "Thank you. You may leave now."

Namiko disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Sarutobi scanned the scroll, noting that the Iwa chunin's named backup, when investigated, showed that no one was actually there. It worried Sarutobi that Iwa would go so far as to send a chunin on a suicide mission for seeming revenge, especially as the Iwa plant had only been there for a few days. He would have been caught within the week by ANBU; he had been on the watch list. If the chunin had managed to get any word back to Iwa that the Kyuubi jinchuriki looked like a clone of the Yellow Flash… The Tsuchikage would put two and two together, knowing the character of the Yondaime, and send ninja after ninja to kill the child of Iwa's Bane.

The Sandaime wrote out a scroll that authorized upped security and more ANBU patrols. He wasn't about to fail Minato or the boy he loved like a grandson now.

--o0oOOOo0o—

Minato glanced around the plain room, sighing. How long did it take to go buy ramen? Definitely not thirty minutes. At most, twenty. The ramen stand was only a few minutes away, after all. He considered escaping, but then rejected the idea. While the doctors and nurses he saw coming in and out of the room only looked at him with pity, it was still dangerous, Minato thought bitterly. Best to stay in the room.

He hated hospitals.

Ninja in general hated hospitals, and that included Minato.

To the poor medic nin having a bad day, it seemed that everyone hated hospitals.

It was half true.

Civilians saw one side. They saw the part that healed, that comforted, that always had a cure. Civilians didn't die daily. They didn't have a class-three burn covering seventy-five percent of their bodies. They didn't have their guts pouring out through a stomach wound. But even they were uncomfortable if family members had to stay. They got worried.

Ninjas…saw black. They saw hopelessness, despair, death, and darkness. They were reminded again and again, of their own mortality, and faced it. Every. Single. Day. Friends died, comrades died, people lost their lives in the sterile white rooms. When ninjas went into the hospital, often the only way they came out was in ashes or a coffin. That was the reality ninjas believed in, and battlefield medic nins understood that. They still dragged ninjas back to the hospital, though, despite all resistance and insisted perfect health. It was their job to keep them alive, and they would damn well do it.

Minato laughed each and every time Kakashi escaped, and he chuckled wistfully every time they dragged him back, drugging him with a level of morphine that non-trained people would have died from.

He stared, eyes blank, body shaking with suppressed grief and rage, when they took Naruto into the white building. And he would relax fully for the first time in ages when he finally scampered out again, bouncing cheerfully in front of an amused Sandaime... off to go get ramen.

Minato glanced at the clock, noting the time. Forty minutes past one. He was hungry, he noticed, when his stomach started to growl.

A click of the lock on the door told him someone was coming in, and honed instincts said to hide. He stayed still, however, when Namiko appeared, holding a bag of takeout. "Sorry," she apologized. "The line was really long."

"It's all right, Nurse-san." Minato said quietly. He was preoccupied, and so didn't see the narrowed glance Namiko sent his way when Naruto's usual exuberance was lacking from his words.

He eagerly wolfed down the miso ramen. He liked the stuff, no matter how much it drove up his blood pressure. Kushina had loved it. It was a miracle, in his opinion, that she hadn't had a heart attack in the twenty-some years she had been alive. He ruthlessly squashed the pang of sadness that rose, constricting his throat.

Namiko sat there for awhile, watching him, a contemplative look in her eye, until she glanced at her watch, gasping at the time. "I have to go now, Naruto. Bye!" She left hurriedly, and the door shut with a loud slam behind her.

Minato put down his chopsticks, bewildered. Glancing up at the clock, he noticed that it was time for the night shift to come, and for the day shift to leave. Namiko probably had a date, or something. He laughed at the thought.

If it was this late already, Minato mused, Sarutobi would be coming soon. Or, at least he hoped so. If he had to stay another day here, awake and perfectly healthy, then he would leave, whether they liked it or not.

He finished his ramen, drinking the rest of the broth and placing the bowl on the bedside table. He twirled the chopsticks in his hand absentmindedly, staring at the door.

When Sarutobi finally arrived, Minato leapt out of the bed and flung his arms around the old man. "Jiji! Finally! Can I go home now?" The happiness he felt was real, and genuine not just an act. He was truly glad to see the man alive and well, leading Konoha. It had been so long…

"Naruto, I think you can let go now." The Sandaime chuckled softly, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately. Minato sighed letting go of the man's robes, reminding himself that everyone saw him as a child. An eleven year old boy. A freakin' kid. Yay, he got to live through puberty again…

Sarutobi mistook the scowl on Minato's face for irritation. Naruto must really dislike having his hair ruffled, he thought. Ah, well, the Sandaime mentally shrugged. As long as he was around, Naruto would have to put up with it. "So, are you ready to go now?"

Nodding enthusiastically, as Naruto was wont to do, Minato dashed through the hospital, knowing its ins and outs by heart. The Sandaime trailed him, eyes twinkling in amusement at the boy's excitement.

When they got outside, the Sandaime took hold of his hand protectively, which Minato thought was odd until he noticed the hate-filled glances the occasional villager gave him. When a drunken man threw a sake bottle at them and screamed obscenities at them, a silver-haired ANBU dropped from the roofs and incapacitated him, cheerfully (if it was possible to do so) saluting the Hokage and whisking the body away. Minato sniggered under his breath. Good ol' Kakashi.

Walking up to his apartment, which was only a few blocks from the General Hospital and the Hokage tower, the Sandaime bid him goodbye as he fumbled with his keys. Minato entered the small room, locking the door behind him. He had noticed traces of graffiti on the walls outside, but no remains of rotten fruit or other unsavory objects. So the hate wasn't as bad as it could have been, with the Sandaime's decree.

The apartment was very small, with only three rooms. One kitchen, with the basic appliances; a stove, oven, toaster, and microwave. The laminate countertops were littered with stacked ramen cups, and the tiled floor was sticky. A rough wooden table stood in the center of the kitchen, with two chairs pushed next to it. In the living room, the carpet needed vacuuming, but was otherwise clean. A grey sofa sat off to the side, and an empty bookshelf stood against the far wall. Decent. Not clean, but not messy either. A typical apartment for an orphan, Minato thought.

Entering the bedroom, the first thing Minato noticed was the dirty clothes scattered across the room. A faded white long-sleeved shirt lay crumpled on the edge of the bed, contrasting sharply with the dark blue covers. Eventually, as Minato started forwards and began gathering the dirtied clothes up, dumping them unceremoniously into a corner. He sidestepped the scattered scrolls and Academy textbooks, and peered underneath the bed to see anything he might have missed. That was when he noticed the loose flap of carpet and lifted floorboard. Minato crept forwards, peeking into the revealed hole.

There was money. A good amount of it. This was where Naruto stored his savings, where no one else would care to look. Minato sneezed and rubbed furiously at his nose. Damn dustbunnies. He pulled the floorboard back into place, rolling the flap of carpet back over it.

He pulled himself out from under the bed, still rubbing at his nose, and walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth. That finished, Minato crawled into the bed and tried to plan out what he wanted to do. It didn't help his worries, and Minato found that he was far more exhausted than he thought when he fell asleep almost instantly.

--o0oOOOo0o--

Edited February, 2010

Author's Notes:

To my new readers: I hope you have enjoyed my story so far.

To my old readers: I plan on rewriting all the chapters from here on. I will continue working on a new chapter, but updates might be slower.

What do you guys think about this? Would you prefer the old chapter, or this one? I prefer this one, as I think the writing quality is higher, but it also has a slightly darker tone and less forgiving Minato.

Please Review.