It has been 4 years. I have no excuses, except that my inspiration disappeared for quite sometime. But here it is again! I believe I would like to end this story on this chapter, so this may very well be the final installment. Though I could see another chapter after this. But for now, I like this ending.
Disclaimer as usual; If Naruto were mine, I would go to jail for my pairings. But it isn't, so how cool is that huh ?!:D
Warnings; detailed sex with a minor, along with angst.
Happy reading :D
Love Will Suffice
III
He deserves this. He knows he does.
She doesn't.
At 14, the world is topsy-turvy-euphoric for young girls in love. Maturing, experiencing feeling things they never thought existed. For Rin, everything spirals.
Dreams of a face she knows so well, no longer soft…contorted and hardened, eyes that rival the bluest of skies darken like the abyss of seas where only the most wretched of monsters rest. When her eyes open, there is a wetness on her cheeks and she can't tell if they are hers or those of her offender.
But she knows who her offender is. Who it has always been. And what they've been doing to her body.
So at 14 years old, when she knocks on the door of her Hokage, he knows what she wants to ask.
He knows that it is over.
She questions her flashbacks, her dreams and wonders why he shed tears in those moments.
Why he sheds tears now.
Her eyes hold the weight of realization of what has been done to her by the person who protected her the most. It is enough to get her angry. But she doesn't break. She needs to know; why.
Why.
"I love you."
..
….
"Its because I love you…"
There is no other answer he can give but the truth. His truth.
He tells himself whether it be believable or considered falsified, its for him.
If it isn't already so fucking selfish.
His eyes meet her face, but cant meet her eyes, so they stumble down the contours, down the hill of her neck where a darkening spot lies.
"Who…Who gave you that?.."
"I think you know very well who."
There's pride in the knowledge that it could only ever be him.
But guilt is a reoccurring visitor. When it sets in, he feels it.
"Look at me, sensei."
It isn't a plea. His body warms in shame, embarrassment. There's a burning in his head and he's desperately trying to focus on everything but the guilt.
Guiltguiltguilt-crushing-breaking
"I said look at me."
And though it weighs him down, his eyes then, can't help but to look up at her.
She stands above, composed in every sense, but in her eyes are hurt, denial, humiliation. Her eyebrows crease against her will and for a second he swears her eyes are glazed.
For a second.
He shudders.
Even in pain, she is perfection.
He is breathless, not that he would've been able to speak if he was granted permission.
"…I want you to tell me everything that you did to me….starting from that night…I need to know. It is my right to know."
He tells her of origins;
He tells her about when he first began to fancy her, of when he first started having dreams that she had no right to be the focus of, of the times when his composure was never enough for him to let go of the memories of her scent after those days of painstaking training. He tells her, of origins.
Then he tells her of the nights she would not know about. The ones by which, the next day, she would wake up, pain between her thighs, unexplainable exhaustion, specs of blood when there shouldn't be none, even though he had cleaned her as best as he could. On those nights he had her underneath him, gasping for breath, calling his name, moaning and groaning as he thrusted deep inside of her with willingness to cum, only to ejaculate in the rubber that separated them.
On those nights, he told her, he would cry for what was naught, for what could never be, but also for what would suffice. He would lightly suck on her tongue, swallow her spit, gently massage her breasts, tell her how much he loved her, how that love would suffice; aftercare he named it.
He tells her everything, even the things he didn't know about. Thoughts rising, conceptualizing as he comes to terms once again with the sin he has committed. This time he knows though, that he can never deny it again. He waits for an answer if one may come, but is left with silence. It is loud and lasts for some time. Then;
"Put me on the upcoming mission with Kakashi. I cannot be here in this village right now."
Minato cannot battle against it. He knows he has no right. He only responds, weak, feeble"
"….I'll do what I must."
Later on that night as he reminisces…he notes that Rin never cries.
He ponders and ponders on what she may feel, how she may feel. But he knows he will lose his mind if he does.
He knows that right now this is what she needs, that when she gets back, they can walk it through, that love will suffice as it always has.
He knows it.
Even if it is just for him.
He leaves the autopsy in an emotionless state.
The ability to feel anything at all is no longer his. All he has ever felt was because of her. And now she left with it.
He deserves this. He knows he does.
She doesn't. Neither does Kakashi. But the ninja world will be anything but fair.
He wasn't either. If he was, she would've still been here.
She, that set his heart ablaze, that turned his world into the dystopian fantasy that he long accepted to be his way of life. In turn, he gave her nothing but bloodshed. Agony and suffering that he guarantees she kept until her very last breath.
In this moment, like all the others, the guilt comes knocking at his door. He forces it open, willing the feelings to crush him once more. It does not. Instead, guilt is a polite guest and sits quietly near a window where winds, soft, light are heard and seen moving through the pastures of his mind. Flowers bloom not there, at one point they did.
Guilt leaves him to his own devices, occupied in this corner of the room. It doesn't do its job of rendering him completely disabled, not this time. So Minato can do nothing but think about every thing he has done. The only thing he truly is grateful for, is that when she died, she took his heart with her.
At her funeral, he sheds no tears.
Two years
Two years pass and Minato the fourth, loved and praised by all, is blessed with news of his wife's pregnancy. He thinks, for the first time in a long time, he feels something akin to happiness. It is enough to create a bubbling in his chest and a fluttering in his stomach. By impulse he has Kushina, high in the air, tight in his arms, thanking her for what she has giving to him, knowing full well that he couldn't love her the way she deserved. She accepted him anyways, and gave to him a gift, that only the one who captured her heart deserved. She loved him, unconditionally.
That night, he's dragged out of the house, away from the warm embrace of his wife and unborn, to a pub where Kakashi, Jiraiya, and Gai take him out for a little celebratory fest. They share their congratulations, hopes for him and his future family and boost him up with some edible delights and sake, but not too much. For the while, Minato feels content.
The celebration lasts long enough that Gai is a staggering drunk and Jiraiya has two women on his shoulders. They both go their separate ways, Kakashi and Minato walk in the same direction home. The walk is in a chosen silence before Kakashi speaks up.
"Its good to be like this again sensei." He doesn't look away from his place on the ground beneath. "Things have been different…since that day"
It could be one of two days, but Minato knows Kakashi doesn't speak about Obito. Even after that day, there was always something there to pick up the pieces. Someone.
"Do you miss her?"
He doesn't skip a beat.
"I do. A lot."
"At her funeral, you didn't cry….Why?"
Why were you crying, Sensei why?
"I didn't deserve to….it was my fault."
"She loved you."
When Minato looks at Kakashi, he is staring straight in his face, eyes barring, and yet, there is something in them that goes past the line of sadness, or even anger. But he can't comprehend it, nor the words Kakashi spoke after.
"She loved you and she wanted you to know that when she died. And that, she'd always love you, regardless."
Minato stops in his tracks, stares right back into Kakashi's eyes. His student continued.
"I was going to tell you. She told me to tell you. But, you…you looked so unbothered, unaffected by her death. I know if was wrong, I shouldn't have done it….but I'm telling you now. She loved you…and she would be happy for you."
He doesn't remember telling Kakashi anything, but he remembers changing direction and heading no where near his home. Kakashi continues walking on his own.
When he arrives, he is standing in front of her grave. It's in need of a flower change, but it is still particularly neat. He has only ever been here once before, but it feels like he has been here over a thousand times. In dreams? Nightmares? It is difficult to truly recall, he doesn't remember. All Minato can think about are the words Kakashi spoke to him, in jealousy, as he can now put a name to it, and it makes him shiver, to know that he also took a love away from him in a sense only so far from physical.
A feeling rises.
He can't explain it, the opening of wounds he closed. Were they ever opened in the first place? After she had died, he shut her life, her memory away, even from the recesses of his mind, unable to visit them willingly. He believed it to be punishment, for what he did. If only he knew what true punishment was 2 years ago, then he would've been able to compare. This feeling went beyond guilt, shame. But the effects are similar and has Minato falling to his knees, unable to stand under the weight of truth that Rin, even after all he had done, still loved him. Still chose to love him.
His mouth is opened and he screams, screams and screams. Tears are coming in unwanted successions and there is a thought in the back of his mind of waking the neighborhood, waking the dead but he can't shut it down, he knows he can't. Minato is on the ground wailing for a half hour before he feels something tangible, familiar, soft hands wrapping around his neck, a gentle "Shhh, it's alright. It'll be alright.". Even in the darkness, he can see burning red strands falling to cover his shoulders and oh how he desperately wishes they were maroon. Kushina holds him through the waves and as he cries next to the grave, he realizes something. Of all the shame and remorse he thought he had, the feeling of guilt cannot compare to sorrow.
And sadly, not even his love, her love, is enough to suffice for this unbearable sorrow.
Thank you all once again for reading. Reviews are gladly accepted.
Rhiley :D
