The Girl from Whirlpool

Chapter Six: Growing Apart

It was tempting to say that the next thing Minato knew, he was waking up in a hospital bed, but it was not nearly as simple as that.

For a long time he drifted on the edge of consciousness. He was aware of the moment his sensei lifted him up off the sand and put him on a stretcher, and he'd heard his sensei hurriedly telling the medic that he was unconscious. Minato remembered thinking this wasn't really true. He was perfectly conscious, he just couldn't seem to be bothered opening his eyes or responding to all the irritating people who kept calling his name and shaking him when all he wanted to do was sleep.

Then after that he was aware of lying in a bright room as lots of very professional sounding people continued to paw at him, taking off his clothes and attaching things to him that he didn't care about. He remembered the needle going into his hand – a prick of pain that barely registered compared to the gaping hole in his side, and then for a long time there was nothing but blissful darkness. Apparently they had finally respected his wishes to sleep.

Not much penetrated that darkness. The low murmur of a medic's voice here. A flash of light in his eyes there. At one point he recalled rousing and feeling something uncomfortable pressing down on his face, and he'd lethargically struggled to push it off. Then a softly-spoken woman had appeared some unknown time later to gently scold him and right the oxygen mask once more and then left him.

When the cotton wool wrapped around his brain finally began to fall away, Minato sort of wished it hadn't. With clarity came pain. Gradually, when he opened his eyes they stayed open and he could take a good long look at his surroundings; from the beeping monitors, to the peeling paint on the ceiling, to the red-haired girl snoozing in the chair by his bed. Exhausted by even this small perusal, he closed his eyes and slept again.

The next time he woke he finally felt like himself again. The muggy haze of exhaustion no longer numbed his thoughts and he lay in the pristine white bed, smelling of five kinds of disinfectant and feeling distinctly sorry for himself. There was no one in his room. That was awfully inconsiderate. He'd obviously been badly hurt. Didn't anyone care?

Besides his solitude, the other thing he first noticed upon waking was his amazingly dry mouth. He remembered all that sand on the floor of the stadium and wondered if this was what it felt like to swallow a few gallons of the stuff. He looked around for some help and saw a jug of water and an empty glass on the nightstand. That would probably do. Now if only he could get his shaky hands to cooperate and grab that heavy jug without making a catastrophic mess.

The door creaked open and Kushina walked in, stifling a yawn. "What are you doing?" she asked, seeing him engaged in battle with the water jug. "Want me to do that?"

He sagged back to the bed, because that was far easier. Some unseen stitches in his side were aching like hell now and he was only too happy to let Kushina pick up the jug and pour him a fresh glass of gloriously clear water. He licked his dry lips at the sight.

"The medic said you have to drink it slowly," she warned him as she handed him the glass – and she had to wrap her fingers over his to make sure he didn't drop it as he took his first grateful sip in what felt like a year. "How are you feeling?" she asked after his parched sigh of relief.

So far Kushina didn't seem all that surprised to see he was awake and making a nuisance of himself. She didn't give him wide watery eyes either as if she was even remotely worried about him. This was reassuring.

"Ok, I guess," he said vaguely. He didn't feel great, but his level of discomfort seemed appropriate for the injury he'd sustained, so he couldn't complain.

"Do you remember what happened?" Kushina asked curiously.

He nodded slightly. There were obviously a lot of gaps in his memory and his understanding of what had happened, but he didn't feel too concerned about chasing up details right then. "Why are you here?" he asked instead.

Kushina just looked at him and shrugged. He wondered if he'd made that sound like she should be somewhere else. "Were you worried about me?" he asked.

"No." She scowled like he'd said something lewd.

"Where's Jiraiya-sensei?"

Kushina looked sideways, mouth twisting awkwardly. "He's gone," she said. "They sent him out yesterday – they sent a lot of people out yesterday. He said 'sorry he couldn't stick around to wish you congratulations when you woke up, but it was kind of urgent'."

"Congratulations?" he echoed. For what? Landing himself in hospital?

"For passing the chunin exam," she supplied.

"Oh." He thought. How expected. He looked up at Kushina's closed expression and tentatively asked, "Did you…?"

"No," she said shortly, and scowled again like this was his fault… and it probably was. "It was actually kind of lucky you were hospitalised, or they would have sent you out too. They've already deployed everyone else who passed; Uchiha Kisuke, the Hyuuga twins, Chichi, Akimichi, Nara, and Yamanaka."

"Wait… what?" Minato wheezed. "Deployed where? Why so soon?"

"We're at war with the rain country now," she said with a shrug, as if this was inevitable. "Almost every chunin and jonin in the village has gone to fight."

"How long have I been asleep?" he demanded. "Since when were we at war with the rain country?"

Kushina raised her eyebrows at him. "Since… they tried to have you assassinated?" she said slowly. "Duh. I thought you said you remembered."

He definitely didn't remember that bit. "I know I got hurt. I thought it was an accident."

She gave him a slightly pitying look. "You're so naive," she sighed. "You just stood there like a lemming and this guy in a weird mask came out of nowhere. Everyone thought you were dead… you just weren't moving, Minato. You're sensei was so fast – I mean… not as fast as my sensei, but he still saved you. If he hadn't got to you, that weird guy would have stabbed you right through the heart."

And Minato had never even noticed any of it coming. The assassin, the weapon, the killing intent… he'd missed all of it. Hell, he'd been on the ground under his sensei for several seconds before he'd even realised he was hurt.

It humbled him to remember he still had a long way to go before he reached the level of a jonin. Why would the rain country bother assassinating a boy who couldn't even see a hit like that coming? Was he really so much of a threat?

He gestured for the glass of water again and Kushina obliging held it out for him, cradling the back of his head as he took another sip. When it proved a little too ambitious for his poor throat he began to cough – and Kushina was right there with a paper tissue to mop his chin. Minato eyed her warily. She could give the most hardcore tomboy a run for her money, but her motherly nurturing side seemed pretty competent too.

"What about you?" he asked her.

She blinked at him.

"You didn't seem too well during the exam," he recalled. "Are you... better now?"

Minato was discovering he quite liked making Kushina go red, especially when she couldn't hit him. "A gentleman shouldn't ask a lady about such things," she muttered.

"Ok." He didn't really understand all the secrecy about this topic. Even his sensei had been unfortunately vague when Minato had asked him what this 'Period' business was, and the best reply he'd got was that it was a thing that happened to most girls once a month, during which time they became unstoppable killing machines.

If that was true, Minato had been very fortunate indeed to escape with his life, but it was most likely that his sensei was doing his usual thing of masking discomfort with humour. He didn't want to ask Kushina straight out either, since she tended to mask her discomfort with violence, and even if he was hospitalised right now he didn't want to push his luck. Maybe once he got out he'd go find a book about it or something…

"Still," he said. "You're ok now, right?"

She smiled ever so slightly. "Yes. Thank you. But you should probably be feeling more sorry for yourself."

"I am," he assured her. "Because it seems you're the only one who bothered to visit me."

"Oh, I wasn't the only one," she said quickly. "Your dad came by. At least I think he was your dad."

A cold sensation swooped through his stomach at this news. It was even more chilling to hear than the news that he'd single-handedly started a war. "He did?" he asked flatly. God help him, it sounded like Kushina had actually met him. How did he even begin to apologise? "Did you speak to him?"

"A bit. He seemed nice."

Seemed nice? She had to be joking.

"He left this for you," she said, picking something up from the nightstand that had been previously hidden behind a bouquet of flowers. Minato glanced at it once and froze over. That was Mr. Nose, the bead-filled toy elephant he'd had since he was five. The beads in the trunk had of course poured out long ago through a tear in the tip, leaving behind a flaccid scrap of cloth that had seen better days. Actually, all of him had seen better days. His ears definitely hadn't been seen in years.

"I think it's some kind of anteater," Kushina said, turning the lumpy, grey blob with dangly legs over in her hand.

"Ah – hah," Minato forced an embarrassed laugh. "Why did he bring that? He probably thinks I still sleep with him."

This was not to say that Minato didn't still sleep with Mr. Nose. It was just that he'd rather die than let Kushina know it.

Kushina, apparently convinced that Minato didn't share his bed with something so grubby, set Mr. Nose down and began to fiddle with the flower petals of the bouquet. A little card propped between two daisies showed they were from Ai's mother, who had probably sent them very much against her daughter's wishes.

"Once you get better, I think they're going to send you out too," Kushina said sullenly.

If what she had said before was true... "I guess."

"Stupid," she grumbled. "What did you have to go and pass for?"

"I'll be alright," he said. In fact, the thought of jumping into the thick of war was quite an exciting prospect – not because he revelled in the violence of warfare, but because he had a feeling in his gut that he could make a difference. If he could start one, surely he could help finish one too?

Kushina shot him a glare. "You almost died," she pointed out. "The guy who did that to you… that's the level of people they're asking you to fight out there. You won't stand a chance."

He was a little affronted. "Why not?"

"Because you just existing annoys people, obviously. They nearly succeeded in killing you in your own home village, in front of dozens of jonin and the Hokage himself. They'll try again, and out there you won't stand a chance."

Minato thought about this carefully. She was actually right. He was perhaps far more likely to be killed than any other much weaker chunin for the simple fact that he would be a high priority target for the enemy. And still...

"What should I do then?" he asked. "Stay home and hide under the bed?"

She rolled her eyes and looked away. Maybe that was exactly along the lines of what she'd hoped.

"You're as much of a ninja as I am. You wouldn't run from a fight," he pointed out.

She shook her head. "Knowing when to run is why I'm still alive, Minato," she said.

"I'll know when to run," he said, placating her. "But that isn't now. People's lives depend on war. We have to do everything we can-"

"Why isn't your life important?" she demanded.

"Of course it is," he said with a shrug. "If one life can save a hundred, there's nothing more important."

"And if you get killed before you can help anyone?"

He was silent for a moment, wondering if that was possible. To be killed without ever making a difference? That was a pretty sorry fate and one he planned to avoid at all costs. "I'll be fine," he said simply, because he didn't know how else to communicate to her that everything would be ok. This experience hadn't shaken him and made him doubt his abilities... it had only strengthened his resolve to do better – be better. He would make sure that no one, not even a jonin, could catch him unawares ever again. And even though he couldn't explain it, he knew that he would live.

Kushina hadn't been kidding about the war or the cause of it. How odd to be the reason why the streets were so quiet and the hospital so full. Once the medics allowed Minato out of bed - and they did so within days because they wanted to give said bed to someone else – he hobbled about on crutches feeling lost. His sensei had gone off to fight. Most of the genin he'd hung out with were on missions, or else were graduated chunin now stationed on a distant frontier, and even the civilian population seemed subdued. Too weak to go back to work and too fit to stay still, Minato was stuck in limbo.

He dedicated his mind and body to two tasks. First: he needed to get better. This task was coming along quite nicely as Minato spent many a night literally naval-gazing and poking at the interesting scar developing below his last rib where his stitches were rapidly dissolving and the tender flesh hardened and scabbed. His medics managed to turn his body's natural metabolic processes into another reason to praise him personally. After all, a normal person would be out for at least three months with a wound like that, but Minato was already able to run a few laps around the training field with barely a twinge of pain after only three weeks – and surely this was because he was a ninja prodigy rather than because he was young and healthy and a little hard-headed.

His second task was to train. As soon as he could run, he ran. As soon as he could jump, he jumped. As soon as he could perform ninjutsu again, there was no stopping him from going back to work on the original jutsu he'd been working on for years, which he decided to dub 'Rasengan'.

What else could he do? Even Kushina had vanished with the rest of her team now that the workload for regular genin had increased tenfold. He supposed he could have spent more time with his father, but that was always a risky venture. Most parents might be a little surprised that their child had instigated an international war, or at least a little concerned. But not Minato's dad. The man seemed perplexed and suspicious of him more than anything. The medics had charged him with the care of a sick son who, they said, needed a lot of care and attention right now, yet this same son was doing star-jumps the moment he rolled out of bed in the morning and rock-climbing every other day. Minato's father appeared to have decided that if he couldn't understand his son, he probably shouldn't bother trying, and they left each other alone.

But Minato did not escape everyone's notice. During his fourth week of 'R and R', and the third week of the rain country conflict, he was approached by a pair of ANBU to be informed that the Hokage wanted to see him. Minato felt a little leery. His first thought was that he was in trouble, though he rarely did anything to deserve a reprimand off anyone, let alone the Hokage. But what if this was about Jiraiya's hinting about becoming the next Hokage? This thought made him quail even more. He didn't really want to be getting wrapped up in such serious business, and something about the Sandaime made him feel weirdly shy when in his presence. The man had such overwhelming gravitas. Minato, on the other hand, had none. Why would anyone think he was Hokage material?

As it turned out, he'd gotten a little ahead of himself. When he arrived in the Hokage's suite, which was like a lavish penthouse in the administration building, the Sandaime said nothing of leadership nominations. "Please have a seat," he gestured to a soft looking recliner set at an angle to a formidable looking armchair. "I understand you've been healing well, but I'd still like you to be comfortable."

Minato perched on the recliner awkwardly as the Hokage took the armchair. That seemed about right. Formidable man; formidable chair. Most people described the Hokage as a kindly old grandfather, but then the Hokage viewed most people as charming grandchildren. It was Minato he viewed differently – as a potential successor that needed vetted and guiding, so it was Minato who saw another side to the man... the one who, unbeknownst to children like him, was tired and jaded by dealing with would-be usurpers and secessionists and friends who smiled to his face and whispered mutinous words behind his back. In his eyes, Minato could grow up to be just another power-hungry dog snapping at his heels, eager to push him into his grave, or the greatest hope the world had for peace.

So Minato wasn't being totally paranoid when he thought the Hokage's stare was a little too intense to be comfortable. "How are you feeling these days?" the Sandaime asked.

"Ok," Minato said, hating the weak, squeaky sound of his voice. The fact that his voice had begun to break recently only revealed itself when he was nervous.

"The village appears to be on tenterhooks with regards to your recovery. It's been a long time since we've had someone pass the chunin exam with a perfect score... longer still since anyone tried to assassinate a genin. I imagine that this has been a turbulent experience for you, but the medics assure me that you haven't been adversely affected."

"They said it was just a flesh wound," Minato said.

"I meant your mind, boy. Being struck down like that at the very beginning of your career as a chunin might have destroyed someone else's nerves. Yet you seem unfazed."

Minato stared at the Hokage, searching his wrinkles for some sign. Was it bad that he wasn't particularly traumatised? Should he have been? Did only idiots walk away from things like this with a whistle?

The Sandaime smiled at him. "I see no reason to keep you confined to the village any longer. If you wish it, I shall send you to the border. I know many jonin who would be glad to have a chunin of your calibre under their command."

Minato's heart leapt. "I can join Sensei?" he asked hopefully.

"Jiraiya is engaging Hanzou's forces on the rain country border," the Hokage said. "For now they are holding out well... meanwhile the conflict with Kiri needs fresh blood. I'd prefer to send you there."

The war with Kiri was the oldest of all the conflicts raging around the world. It had started fifteen years ago and had claimed hundreds of lives on both sides. Minato understood the need for revitalising the fight out there once in a while, but he had really been hoping to work alongside his sensei again...

The Hokage sensed his disappointment at once. "Minato, a good ninja must learn to forge new bonds and work with new comrades. In order to grow, you must let go of your dependency on your mentor. Also, I've had complaints from the other jonin about how much Jiraiya keeps you to himself. This will be a wonderful opportunity for everyone."

"Yes, sir," Minato mumbled. What the Hokage hadn't elaborated was that mist country border was the furthest and most remote of all the warzones and it was a conflict with no sign of ending any time soon. There were people who had been sent there ten years ago who were still there. If Minato went... how long would he be there?

"You'll be dispatched in a week with Team Mitarashi," the Hokage informed him. "I believe she was one of your examiners during the exam?"

Oh god, that was the strict one, wasn't it? Minato gulped.

But at least that was all the Hokage wanted to discuss with him, and he was quickly released back onto the street to figure out for himself how to prepare for his most crucial mission yet. His first thought was to tell his sensei, or Kushina, or even Ai, or Saburou, or Ai's mother – or even just the milkman. However, since none of these people were available, he went to tell his father instead.

"S'nice, son," slurred his father, who was mostly passed out on the couch when Minato found him. At least he wasn't accusing him of lying this time, but Minato didn't think his father had quite grasped that this meant he was leaving, possibly for a very long time.

Resigned to the fact that he probably wouldn't see his friends for a very long time, Minato decided to write some letters to them instead, explaining where he was going and that they shouldn't worry about him. His letter to Jiraiya turned out pretty long. To Ai and Saburou, it was more like a brief note of courtesy. To Kushina...

Well, he couldn't really think what to say to Kushina. Knowing full well of her opposition to him being called up, it was hard to frame his mission in a positive light. Besides, he felt strangely self-conscious. What if she thought his comments stupid? What if she thought the whole idea of writing a letter to her was stupid?

In the end, Minato didn't manage to come up with anything. Perhaps he would write once he was at the border where there would be all the time in the world to sit around and think of things to say to this girl? How irritating that it should be this hard to write a letter to this one particular person? No one else made him feel quite so much like a bumbling idiot as Kushina did, and she wasn't even in the village! How was that fair?

It turned out, however, that he needn't have given himself a headache over the matter, as the day before he was scheduled to leave, Kushina returned with her team.

When Minato heard Hatake Sakumo was back in the village and at the hospital, he dropped everything he was doing – all the scrolls and weapons he was packing into a large rucksack – and raced over. This was not because he had any particular desire to see Hatake Sakumo, but because he knew that if her sensei was back, then Kushina would surely be back too.

The man in question was standing in the immediate foyer, standing with a group of senior-looking medics, one of which was talking in that slow explanatory way that meant something serious was going on. Minato hesitated. He didn't want to interrupt anything important, and he still had some lingering wariness of Kushina's teacher left over from the academy days when the children had talked about which jonin teachers they wanted to be placed with, and most decided Hatake was far too fierce for their liking.

So with great trepidation, Minato approached. "Um, excuse me... Hatake-sensei?"

The speaking medic was the one who noticed him first, and only when he stopped talking did the white-haired man turn to look at him, as if looking for the source of the interruption instead of recognising he was being addressed. It probably took a lot of work to become that frosty. Minato didn't know what he'd done to offend Hatake Sakumo but there was no running away now. Under that horrible blank stare, he somehow managed to fire his inquiry. "Um. Kushina. I mean, do you know where she is?"

After a painfully long pause, like he wanted Minato to suffer, the jonin finally pointed. "Room forty-five," he said.

Minato took a sharp breath. "Did she get hurt?"

Hatake Sakumo shook his head slowly – no – and turned back to the medic, interruption resolved and over with. Minato quickly slithered away, quite glad that was over, and hurried on down the corridor that had been pointed out. It branched off in several places and crossed multiple wards, a route which Minato felt had warranted more than just a pointed finger from the jonin, but he steadily counted the door numbers until he managed to find number forty-five. It was open, probably to allow all the medics and nurses to stream in and out freely – and there were a lot of them – giving him a direct view into the room where Kushina was sitting.

For a brief moment he thought her sensei had lied. Kushina looked more shocked and pale than he'd ever seen her, and his first thought was that all these medical workers were attending to her. It took him several seconds to realise there was someone else lying on the bed in there, making awful whimpering sounds. Kushina was clasping this person's hand tightly. Minato only realised why she was staring at them in such obvious horror when the medics shifted aside a little and he got a glimpse of bright red, scorched flesh. It covered all of the boy's arm, most of his chest and a great deal of his face. A lot of his hair was gone. If it was someone Minato knew, he couldn't recognise him.

Whoever it was appeared to be in shock. Despite the massive burns to his face, he was still talking... or rather, rambling. Minato edged forward into the room and heard the frantic mutters he was speaking to Kushina. "I deserve it. I've done something to deserve this."

"No..." Kushina whispered back, though her lips barely moved.

"Too slow. I was too slow. Oh, god... tell her I'm sorry."

"Yes..." Kushina breathed.

The head medic in the room finally noticed Minato when he turned and almost bumped into him. "Please," he said with obvious impatience. "This is not the time for visitors. Both of you, out."

Minato realised that Kushina was only being evicted on his account, but she stood without argument and awkwardly extricated her hand from the burned boy's grip; he didn't appear to want to let go. Then she walked past Minato and out into the corridor. He followed her uncertainly but hung back. Once the door had slammed behind them, plunging them into the relative quietness of the corridor, Kushina didn't turn to face him. It looked like she was pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes.

"Who was that?" Minato asked quietly.

"Big J."

Big J? Minato spun with disbelief to look at the door as if he might be able to see through it and catch another glimpse of the patient. But he knew what he'd seen, and nothing about that boy had looked like Big J, who was so named because he was a tall, very round-faced chunin... or at least he had been when he'd left to fight in the war a year ago. The boy in that bed had been as thin as a rake.

Most importantly... "I thought you didn't like Big J," he said. Last he'd heard, Kushina had even broken this guy's arm. As far as bullies went, he was the worst.

"I hate him," Kushina said emphatically, brushing away something from her face that were probably tears.

"Then why-"

"He was crying for his mother," she said shortly. Minato thought there had to be more to it than that, but when Kushina said nothing else, he wondered if it really was all there needed to be. Perhaps Kushina was too kind-hearted to turn her back on even her most loathsome of bullies when he needed help.

"I'm sure he'll be ok," Minato said, since Kushina seemed unusually upset over this. "What happened?"

She sniffed loudly and finally turned to face him. Puffy pink speckles surrounded her suspiciously damp eyes, but the effect wasn't particularly unflattering in Minato's opinion. "We were on a mission to deliver personal messages to the border... you know, the unimportant stuff, just like letters from peoples ma's and scarves from grannies, that kind of thing? There was an attack while we were there. There was some kind of explosion. You could see the flames above the trees, and it was like half a mile away, but you could still hear the screams. Big J was brought back to the camp like that... the other three died right there when we were strapping them to the stretchers. The only one we managed to bring back alive was J."

"Oh." Minato watched her take a deep, shaky breath to calm herself.

"They don't have any medics out there, you know," she went on angrily. "There were a couple, but they got killed off and now all they have are some chunin with basic first-aid trying to deal with everything. They won't send any replacements because they're too important to waste on a low priority zone like that. Apparently there aren't enough casualties to justify sending precious medics. I was only there for half an hour and in that time three chunin died and Big J's going to lose his arm and his eye. That's supposed to be one of the safest posts? What the hell's going on, Minato?"

She gave a growl of frustration, though maybe it was more at herself, for she furiously rubbed her eyes and gave a great sigh. "I'm alright, I just can't stand it when boys cry. It gets me right here," she said impatiently, pointing to her chest. "These wars are just so stupid. Why can't everyone just... stay home and stop picking fights with each other?"

This put Minato in a very awkward situation. He had sought her to tell her he was finally fit enough to be dispatched in the hopes that she would share his excitement... but that didn't seem so appropriate anymore. Not when she'd just witnessed so much death and disfigurement of others who'd been sent out.

"So what did you want?" she asked bluntly, probably because he didn't usually seek her out unless he had something to say. He was now left struggling for a new reason.

But he'd have to tell her at some point. He couldn't just disappear tomorrow without ever having said goodbye.

"Um," he began slowly. "I'm leaving."

She blinked at him slowly. "Where?" He could tell she already knew, for a stillness had come over her that froze the air between them.

"The Kiri border. Things aren't, um, going so well down there so they want to send fresh blood-"

"That's probably what they'll get too," she retorted. "Fresh blood? Who came up with a stupid saying like that?"

She'd have to take it up with the Hokage. "I know you're worried," he said quickly, "but I'll be fine."

"Didn't you see Big J?" She pointed at said boy's room. "Did he look fine to you?"

"I think I'll manage better than that," he said with a shrug. Although accidents happened to the best of ninja, Big J was by no means anywhere near to being 'the best'.

"So what?" she demanded. "You think your life is the only thing someone can lose out there?"

His eyes darted over her face, confused. What else was there? If he lost any of his equipment, he could always send off for some more or borrow someone else's, or plunder an enemy's supplies. Any other materials were superfluous.

"You don't have a clue what I'm talking about, do you?" she said. "You think it's all fun and games. And then you become like Big J, who lost it even before the attack."

"Lost what?" Minato asked.

Kushina gestured emphatically. "It."

"Ah, ok." He was still wasn't sure what she meant.

"War changes people, Minato!" she exclaimed. "It ruins them!"

"Well, what are you shouting at me for?" he said, feeling intensely gotten-at for something that wasn't even his fault. "I have a duty and I can't refuse it. I don't want to refuse. And why should it change me for the worse?"

"Because you're already so damn perfect, any change would be for the worse!" She said it sarcastically, but she still grew hot in the face. Compliments apparently didn't come easy to her, even the ones she didn't mean.

"I can't help what I've been ordered to do," he went on. "What would you prefer I do? Betray the village that trained me when they need me the most?"

"Maybe you should," she answered petulantly.

He stared at her. "I can't believe you'd say that. Loyalty to your village is.... it's everything."

"Konoha isn't my village," she said fiercely.

"How can you still believe that after all this-?"

"Whirlpool never got involved in these wars! We bothered no one-"

"Because you were too busy fighting yourselves," he pointed out. "You had people who gave up on loyalty and they destroyed everything. You can't hold your village up as the example when it tore itself apart."

"Fine!" she snarled. "Go get yourself blown up for all I care! I won't miss you!"

She shoved past him, stomping away down the corridor. Minato watched her incredulously. "Then why did you take the exam if you hate war so much?" he called. "You knew they'd have sent you out with me if you'd passed!"

"Then at least we would have been together!" she shouted over her shoulder. "But forget it! I was stupid to think you might need me... not as stupid as you though!"

And then she was gone. Minato hung around a little longer to wait for any news on Big J's prognosis, but eventually he had to return home to finish packing and organising all the belongings he would have to leave behind.

Comparatively speaking, he knew he didn't have much compared to other kids, but there still seemed so much to leave behind. On the frontier there was only room enough for a few spare socks, a couple of pairs of extra underwear, and a small flint block for sharpening kunai. Mr. Nose would have to remain behind as sentry over his bed. There would be no place for his favourite yellow shirt where he was going, nor the paintings he'd taped to the wall as testament to his non-existent artistic skills. Jiraiya had always tried to tutor him in the way of the paintbrush as much as the sword, but even Minato's genius had limitations.

In the waning light of the evening, he sat down on his bed and listened to his room. He would miss it. All his life it had been a kind of sanctuary where not even his father ventured. He was already missing it.

He would miss his friends too. There would be more where he was going – there were always friends wherever Minato went whether he'd met them yet or not – but most of all he would miss his sensei. Few people were irreplaceable in his life, and his sensei's absence would be an aching hole in his chest for quite some time. So perhaps the Hokage was right? He couldn't cling to Jiraiya forever. At some point he had to grow up.

And then he would miss Kushina.

She couldn't claim to be so worried about him that she'd entered the chunin exam for the sole purpose of keeping him company, and then turn around and say she wouldn't miss him. That didn't square. But trust her to be the one thing that made him feel bad about leaving. This morning he'd been excited and happy, looking forward to a change of scenery and the next step forward as a shinobi... now he sat here on his bed, feeling a little sick in the stomach to think of Kushina's angry words. Was that how it was going to end? What a stupid thing to fall out over...

Before the light faded completely, Minato resolved himself to finding Kushina. He couldn't leave the village for god-only-knew-how-long on such a sour note. Even though it wasn't wise to search her out so soon after an argument, there just wasn't enough time to wait for her to cool off. And even if he was the one who had to suck it up and apologise despite having done nothing wrong, it would be worth it as long as they were able to part ways on pleasant terms.

But although he searched quite thoroughly that night, Minato was unable to find her. He checked at the social centre where she lived, but the bespeckled young lady who answered the door claimed not to have seen Kushina all day. He searched by the river, in the junkyard, around the upper tier of the markets, in the genin training grounds – anywhere he knew Kushina liked to hang out. He even collected his courage and knocked on the door of the Hatake household and braved yet another stony expression from the White Fang as he gibbered out a sentence that sort of sounded like, "Do you know where Kushina is?"

Hatake Sakumo naturally said no, and Minato was forced to continue his search elsewhere. But little did he know that once the jonin had shut the door in his face and returned to the living room, he had then asked the red-haired girl sitting on the hearth rug with his wife, "What did he do exactly?"

To which the red-haired girl replied, while jangling her homemade necklace for their tiny baby's amusement, "Nothing. He's going away to fight and we fell out. I don't know what to say to him..."

Minato had to end his fruitless search after a few hours. He needed his sleep for the long journey ahead of him the next day, and he had to accept that if Kushina didn't want to be found then there was little chance of her being found. She was a ninja, after all.

Not for the first time he went to bed with a restless mind, courtesy of a girl from Whirlpool. And for this reason, and perhaps the prospect of tomorrow, he slept uneasily and woke the next morning feeling sluggish and lazy. He stayed in bed for as long as he could, before dragging himself through the motions of morning routine. His bag was already packed, and he still had ten whole minutes to get to the village gate before-

Wait! His father!

It occurred right then that no one had explained to his father that he would be leaving to fight on the border, or at least not when he was sober enough to understand. The man was still in bed, so perhaps he should give his shoulder a little shake to wake him and-

No. Either his father wouldn't care or he would get angry for being disturbed, and Minato didn't have time for this. He grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down a message to leave by the breakfast cereal. He kept it brief, saying that he was going on a long mission and he wasn't sure when he would be back – something that was fundamentally true, but still felt like a horrible deceit for explaining so little. He would write, he decided, a much longer letter once he got where he was going; then he would be too far away from his father to risk having any more bottles thrown at his head.

Even such a brief note took a while to write. Minato glanced at his watch and hissed a mild exclamation; he needed to hurry or he was going to be late.

He hastily signed the note and dashed from the house with his backpack. Would the group leave without him if he was late? Had he remembered to pack everything? Would he be halfway across the country before he remembered he'd left behind something vital?

Fortunately, Minato had always been extremely fast, and he made it to the gate with several minutes to spare. The leaving party was already there, waiting for him.

"Ah, here comes our star player at last," said his former examiner, Mitarashi Junko, who was most likely their leader for this journey. "Do you have everything?"

"Yes, sir!" he piped obediently.

"Alright then," she said. "I'll give you a minute to say your goodbyes and then we move out."

"Goodbyes?" he repeated.

The jonin nodded to something behind him. "She's been waiting for you, I think."

Minato jerked around in surprise. Kushina was standing by a grassy verge, looking distinctly displeased and awkward. She was keeping her distance; she had never liked big crowds of people and hated to approach him around others. Yet here she was, braving her dislike of human beings to see him off.

Or, perhaps, shout at him some more, judging by her expression.

Minato went over to her a little warily, glad at least that she had come out of hiding, even if it was at the last possible minute. He opened his mouth, ready to apologise for any cruel things he'd said about her village, but Kushina beat him to it.

"I'm sorry," she blurted. "For before. I didn't mean to say those things yesterday. I was just upset because of Big J, you know?"

"I know," he said slowly, trying to recover from his shock. Was this the first time Kushina had ever apologised for anything, ever?

"Also, I really don't want you to go," she said, fisting her hands in her pockets and glaring off to the side. "That upset me too."

"I have to-"

"I know. I know you have to," she snapped. "I'm just telling you I don't like it. I don't want you to go. I don't want you to get hurt again or change or anything."

"I won't get hurt," he promised. "And I won't change."

"You might," she said stubbornly.

"What about you?" he asked. "What am I supposed to do if you get hurt or you change while I'm gone?"

She looked shocked. "That'll never happen," she said. "I'll be the same forever. And you'll get bored of me after you go out there and have exciting adventures and meet more exciting girls."

"Girls? Why girls?"

"Ok. Boys then," she gasped in exasperation. "Does it matter? You're leaving me behind either way..."

He understood how she felt. He felt like he was leaving a lot of things behind this week... and Kushina was one of them. "I'll write to you," he said. "Every week."

Kushina considered this offer with narrowed eyes, as if scrutinising it for loopholes. "Ok," she said slowly. "You got to tell me if you get hurt or you meet any girls."

Again with the girls? "Sure," he said.

She considered him a moment longer, then withdrew something from her pocket and jabbed it towards him quite aggressively. "Here," she said. "Take this with you."

Gingerly, he reached out and accepted it. A small wooden disk fell into his palm, attached to a leather thong. Upon closer inspection, there was a spiral relief on one side of the disk made of what seemed to be a kind of glue that was as hard as plastic. As a necklace it was quite amateurish, and it bore too much of a resemblance to the symbol of the Whirlpool village to be a coincidence. Minato looked at Kushina. "Did you make this?" he asked.

She shrugged and nodded. "On the arts and craft day at the centre," she said.

"It's good," he said, meaning it. Even if the materials were crude, the spiral of glue was almost perfect. "It's really good, Kushina, thank you."

"It's a good luck charm to keep you alive," she said. "You don't have to wear it or anything... I know it's stupid. Just keep it in your bag or whatever."

"No, I'll wear it," he said, and to prove it he immediately tired the thong around his neck so that the emblem lay proudly against his shirt. Kushina smiled a little, and a warm flush of pink crept over her cheeks. And as Minato ran his fingers over it in marvel, she refrained from mentioning her present had spent the best part of last night in a baby's mouth.

"Thanks, Kushina," he said again. "It means a lot."

Behind him, his leader called out. "Namikaze," she shouted. "We're going!"

"Uh, I guess this is it," he said, grinning awkwardly at Kushina.

"Yeah..." she said weakly. "Take care, ok?"

"I will."

"And... you'll still be my friend when you come back, won't you?"

Minato felt something painful squeeze in his chest. Kushina had never acknowledged him as a friend before, and he suddenly knew what his leaving was doing to her. He was her friend, and he was her only friend, and in a moment he would be gone. Kushina didn't have much else.

He reached out and took her hand, like they were sealing a deal. "I promise I won't change, Kushina. I'll always be your best friend."

She hesitated a moment before her fingers squeezed back. "Me too... I promise I'll wait for you."

They smiled at each other.

"Either kiss her or get moving!" Junko shouted.

Minato and Kushina jerked apart like they'd both suddenly realised the other had a contagious disease. Snorts of laughter rang out from the leaving party, and Minato ducked away with burning ears to join them. They clapped him on the back good-naturedly and said things like, "Don't worry, the courage for girls will come in time."

As they left through the gate, he turned and waved to the red-headed girl he was leaving behind and she waved back just as exuberantly until they passed over the crest of the hill and she was out of sight.

He didn't see her again for another three years.

TBC