Author's Note: Wow, I'm on a roll today. Sorry about the super-short chapter, everyone, but I simply couldn't make this fit anywhere else. On that note: I'm not sure if I like what I've done with this fic so far. I'm still trying to strike that balance, you know? I want my shinobi to be part trained killers and part human beings, so they can't be too cold (yes, Kakashi, I'm looking at you), too pragmatic (Minato) or too emotional (Rin). Maa, I don't know... the struggle goes on.
Chapter Four
Home
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Sensei's pale eyes flitter between her face and the rubble below – once, then twice – and she hardly dares to breathe. But sensei doesn't say anything. He doesn't ask her to repeat herself, doesn't ask her to explain exactly what she means by what she has just said. He doesn't even ask, is she sure?
And in spite of herself, Rin almost wishes that sensei would.
She is sure. She is so, so sure, because Konoha is at war and Rin is a medical-nin, and medical-nin can't afford to make mistakes when the village is at war. Because if she wasn't sure, then Rin would be by his side, healing, soothing and helping, and surely Minato-sensei knows that. Because Rin was there to feel the last of his chakra slip away, and she was the one to gorge out his eye.
Minato-sensei wasn't there, and sensei shouldn't be aware of the Sharingan in Kakashi's skull just yet. But even so she can tell that sensei somehow knows.
"Rin."
Sensei's eyes are wide and alert, but they have closed themselves to her all the same and Rin realizes with a pang that this must be how Minato-sensei grieves.
She never knew.
(And already she wishes that she didn't.)
"This isn't safe." Sensei's voice is clipped but steady. "Rin, we have to move."
She nods mechanically. They have already stayed for far too long.
Then something dark and heavy is slung over her shoulders, and she instinctively struggles against sensei to get away. But he is a jounin to her chuunin, and Konoha's Yellow Flash and sensei; and when she finally gives up, she finds herself pressed against the rough folds of his flak jacket.
This feels awfully familiar, she thinks and inhales his scent greedily. Minato-sensei smells so much like the village and home that she for once doesn't mind it when her vision grows hazy.
And when sensei bends down to hoist something white and limp over his shoulder, she tightens her grip around his sleeve, because this is the only safety she has left.
"Don't worry. I've got you."
Sensei's voice is distant, and then they are off.