Hello everyone :)

So, I felt really bad for my long hiatus on this story, so I've been trying to write even though I've been on vacation for the past ten days. Seriously, I'm jet lagged and exhausted and it's two am... but I had to finish this chapter before I could sleep. Minato and Kushina just won't shut up in my head XD (That's not scary at all...hahahah).

So, this is my longest chapter yet... I just had so many ideas for this one. Actually, it was supposed to be much longer than this but I needed some kind of stopping point. But do not fret! I plan to write the next one as soon as possible! All the ideas are there, I just have to get them down on paper (easier said than done, huh?)

Well, enjoy :)

-TG

Please tell me what you think, I really would like to know what you guys think of this chapter and where the story is progressing.

Oh, and Masashi Kishimoto owns Naruto, yada, yada, yada... you know the drill

Chapter 9- Seventeen Years

(Kushina)

Pushing open the heavy door labeled 305 in faded black letters, I took in my first glimpse of the place I would be forced to call home for the time being. The village-funded apartment complex for the otherwise helpless or homeless wasn't luxury, to put it lightly, but at least I didn't feel compelled to carry a kunai at the ends of my sleeves just yet. It wasn't horrible, but it was far from anything I was used to. But then again, this entire village was far from anything I was used to. It was far too bright here—too colorful and sunny all the damn time. I missed the ever-present dimness brought on by the cloudy skies. I missed the thick, salty ocean air that you could practically drink in. I missed the powerful ocean winds on the seaside cliffs, not these wimpy breezes that rustled the thousands and thousands of leaves that surrounded this entire place, creating a sound comparable to wind chimes. I missed the normal, faceless cliffs that lined that lined the ocean for miles. Those three stoic faces looking down on me from above made me feel like a guilty, wrong-doing child, not a protected guest-slash-citizen of the village. This whole place was just so… big and bright and wrong.

Finally mustering the courage to cross the threshold of the apartment, I looked around the tiny space. In just a quick glance, I could see almost the entire place. The space I entered was just barely big enough for the door and me to fit. To my right there was a kitchenette, which harbored a tiny table with two chairs, and a small hall way that led towards the bedroom a few feet away. I could see the futon pushed up against the wall with the window, so much like my hospital room had looked. I cringed at the thought. The only part of the place I could not see from the doorway was a bathroom, which I silently prayed was included. I did not want to imagine the horrors of communal apartment bathrooms just yet. Taking the short hallway, I breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of my own toilet, my own sink, and my own shower. Simple pleasures, I thought miserably at my own relief.

I set the duffel bag and care package that the nurses had brought me in the hospital on the bed, and sat myself beside it. I wrapped my bandaged arms around my torso, shifting the foreign clothing beneath them. I had been given a simple black wrap-around shirt and loose-fitting black pants: Civilian clothing. I couldn't remember once in my life ever wearing true civilian clothing. When I was younger, I had worn children's clothes, obviously—mostly boy's clothing. With so many male relatives, it hadn't been hard to find clothes to fit my stocky, unlady-like frame. I had gone to great lengths to avoid the frilly dresses, kimonos, and skirts that had filled my closet for years until I had become well-known as a hopeless tomboy. Then, when I entered the academy, I had worn strictly ninja clothing until… well, until that hadn't been a possibility any longer. Then, I had had no choice in the matter: I had grown up, despite my adamant protests. I grew taller and leaner as I lost the baby fat at dance classes and my secret, rigorous ninja training. At that time, I had been expected to dress like a respectable young lady in clothes befitting the daughter of a powerful clan leader—befitting a princess. Never before had I just been a civilian among thousands, but here I was: with no one left to tell me what to do or wear and lost because of it. I would have gone back and worn every horrid outfit they could think of, if I could have only gotten them back.

Taking a quick scan of my few recently acquired material possessions, I found more clothes very similar to the ones I had on and all black or dark gray, as was appropriate for a time of mourning. The only color present in the entire bag was a small, blue bag for bathroom necessities, the orange and red fabric of my brother's jacket, and the ivory and red hilt of the three-pronged kunai on top. I breathed a heavy sigh and fell over onto the hard futon. I didn't even realize it when the tears came. I never did anymore. Over three weeks I had been in this stupid village, and I felt like I had shed as many tears as there were leaves around Konoha. I was numb to them now. They came and went now, no longer accompanied by heaving sobs or breathless grief. Crying would not fix anything, I told myself like it mattered. Crying was for weak, emotional people, not strong, capable ninjas. But who was I kidding? In no one's opinion, not even my own, was I a strong, capable ninja. If anyone had thought I had been a ninja, I would have been given a ninja's attire, not a bag full of civilian clothing. But I hadn't, because I wasn't. It was as simple as that.

I felt tired. So tired. My body was tired from trying to heal all my scars, both inside and out. My brain was tired from replaying everything I had ever done wrong in my life thus far, namely things like trusting my brother and living when I wasn't supposed to. I was tired of crying. I was tired of being tired.

So, thoroughly exhausted, I closed my eyes and slept, not caring that I would soon wake from the inevitable barrage of nightmares.

And so the hours passed, in a series of conscious, semi-conscious, and unconscious moments. When I felt tired, which was most of the time, I slept. When I felt what could have been the distant pangs of hunger, I discovered that I had a fairly well-stocked refrigerator and some cabinets full of food to choose from. Every time I woke after a particularly long period of sleep, I took a long, hot shower, wishing the scalding water would wash the stress from my shoulders. I wasn't surprised when it didn't. Sometimes when I woke, the moon shown clearly through my window, and sometimes the sun's rays woke me. Either way, the passing days went by with little to no acknowledgement from me.

The first recollection I had of coherent thought in the following days was one evening. I couldn't remember the last time I had woken, so I showered, put a new set of civilian clothing back on, made some instant noodles, and sat looking out the window at the huge village as I ate the food without tasting it. I felt like I hadn't heard my own voice in at least a week. It could have been, for all I knew. I was surprised no one had bothered me yet. It almost worried me how no one had even attempted to make contact with me. Not even the Hokage. I hadn't seen him since he had come to see me in the hospital room. He had said we would speak when I was discharged, but I had been escorted to this place by his assistant instead. She had waited for me to gather my things, tapping her foot impatiently, had introduced herself as if she was someone very important, and requested I follow her without a single friendly word. For my last human interaction in quite a while, it hadn't been pleasant. I hadn't been sure if I liked the Hokage before, but if he could hire that snooty woman then I probably wouldn't like him anyway. I looked up at his looming face above the moonlit city, grim and cold and unyielding—no, I didn't think I liked him. I looked forlornly at my front door, wondering if it was inhabited by that silly, persistent blonde. I felt like his warnings were not just open threats. If the Hokage wanted him to hound me constantly, I had no doubt that I'd acquire a spiky blonde shadow. I shook my head at the thought.

Looking out the window, I tried to identify some of the buildings around me. The street adjacent to the apartment complex was lined with shops, vendors, and small restaurants. I saw a small ramen stand and waited for the sad pangs of remembered disappointment that such a sight always brought me. After a few pang-less moments, however, I was stricken with surprise. I remembered a time when just the thought of eating ramen would make me think sullenly back to the days when I'd eat four or five bowls alongside my favorite person in the whole world: my brother. After he had left, the food was just a reminder of all the good times we had together and that we'd never be together again. Now however, it just looked like a normal, regretless ramen stand.

How curious that was. I suppose if a horrible physical pain could make you forget a less severe one, then why couldn't emotional pain do the same? I didn't know where Kazuo was, just like I hadn't after he had left. But one thing I did know, with some certainty, was that he was alive and well (a traitor, maybe, but still alive). Now thinking of him, all I could think about was his retreating form as my vision blurred with induced fatigue and whether or not he was wearing a stone village head band. Now that I thought about my depression at the loss of my brother, it made the sadness seem silly and trivial in comparison with the intense pain I was faced with now. I sighed, putting my noodles down and wondering if my appetite would ever come back.

Looking back down at the bustling street, I watched people come and go in envy of their simple, carefree strolls and smiles. The sun hung low over the village, indicating to me in the late fall season that the day was coming to an early close. It was probably 6 or 7 in the evening, and people were milling about or settling at a restaurant for dinner. I wondered what day of the week it was. I really had absolutely no way to know... well, not absolutely no way perhaps. Getting off my bed and walking to my door, I put my hand on the door knob tentatively. I was genuinely afraid or anxious or... some feeling I couldn't think of that that man was sitting on my steps. I took a breath and yanked the door open, scaring one of my neighbors at my sudden appearance. I nodded apolegetically, one of my hands reaching up to rub the back of my head. The older man shook his head at me and went back in his apartment. My frown deepened, and I wasn't sure if it was because of embarrassment or because my doorstep was inhabited only by five piled newspapers. Five days. That's how long I had been holed up in my room like a hermit. Leaning down to pick up the newspaper on top, I almost laughed at the date. The date was Friday, December 11th... the day before my 17th birthday.

Happy Birthday to me.

I shook my head, closing the door on the sad pile of papers. Grabbing the kunai from the bag and shrugging into the huge jacket, I made my way out of my apartment. I was still tired and melancholy, but now I added cabin fever to my list of conflicting emotions. I was sick of looking at the walls of that apartment. I needed to get out. This whole village was so big; I bet it would be easy to get lost. I wouldn't mind getting lost about now.

When I made it outside, I breathed in deep, indulging myself in the fresh air. I stuffed the kunai into the inside pocket of my brother's jacket, not really wanting to be kicked out of the village for scaring the citizens. Not that I really cared for this village, but I figured getting kicked out would not be in my best interest for the time being. I had nowhere else to go. I had no one to come wish me a happy birthday, not that I really cared. I scoffed at the thought and set off. I hadn't realized from my window on the third floor, but you couldn't see the main street from the entrance to the apartment complex. It was hidden by a long wall of buildings; purposefully hidden from the public eye, I assumed. I circled around my building, not particularly caring to join the public just yet. What I saw there made me grin in spite of myself: a training ground.

I supposed it shouldn't be so shocking-I was in probably the largest ninja village in the world. But still, I wasn't used to every apartment building having their own. If I recalled correctly through my delusional fog, I believe I remembered seeing a training ground at the hospital too. This one left much to be desired. The trees surrounding the field were scratched from kunai and shuriken. There were a few faded targets on the trees, and single stump in the middle to practice on. It reminded me painfully of my training ground from before-the one that was either burned to the ground or washed away or destroyed by hand. I'd never know.

Stepping up to the stump, I hesitantly got into the proper stance. It felt like years since I had done this, but it had hardly been a month yet. I threw one timid punch, and I was shocked at how the muscles in my arm recoiled at the impact. It was like my body was rejecting me. A few more punches, and I knew I'd hurt or tear something if I didn't gain more control of myself. I huffed in frustration, angry that this wasn't coming back as easily as I thought it would. Stepping away from the stump into the center of the clearing, I started my breathing exercises. Breathe in and out, in and out, steady... My hands arched around my head until they settled into fists at my waist. From there, I made a few more sweeping motions with my arms: the beginning of my personal favorite kata. Even if I hadn't performed this in years, I think I'd be able to remember it. I had created it myself when I was fifteen. It never failed to warm me up, as it stretched every muscle in your body to the limit. I had studied a dozen different martial arts styles, classic fighting techniques, and even added some ballet and dance moves from my classes to make the ultimate warm-up kata. It was my crowning glory. It was perfect. It was an amazing distraction from the torment of my mind.

Losing myself in the movement, I was able to flip gracefully backwards and stand so high up on my toes that I felt like I had left the ground entirely. Forcing chakra into my feet, I launched myself into an air-born flip and- for just a moment- I was flying. For that moment, I was suspended in air and nothing in the world could touch me-not oppressive families, not flames, not enemy ninja, not stuffy village leaders... not anyone in the world. Finally, I landed on my feet, disappointed that I couldn't stay suspended in air for a lifetime. Soft pants escaped my mouth, and I stretched once more to test my loosened muscles. That technique never failed. Released from the spell of the exercise, I could feel the smile fall from my face instantly, and I was curious as to when that had happened. I supposed it was hard not to feel happy when nothing in the world could bother you. But that feeling was gone. I was alone again in an empty field in an enormous village full of people I neither knew nor cared about-who didn't even know that I existed.

Allowing my anger and frustration to fill the void in my heart, I rushed at the stump. I fell into an old routine, one that I had been doing for almost six years. Punch, punch, double punch, round-house kick, front kick, spinning kick. I remembered when I learned this routine. I could see Kenji's face as he criticized my technique; Kazuo's as he criticized Kenji's teaching style; my father's as he observed from afar; My disgruntled one as the men in my life attempted to make me the best ninja possible. I could hear their arguments in my head still, along with their encouragements. Punch, punch, double punch, roundhouse kick, front kick, spinning kick. It had been so annoying to me at the time. I had been so stupid. If I had only known how much I'd miss my annoying older brothers, I would have been a better sister... one worth sticking around to see. If only I had known how much my father loved me, I wouldn't have resented him so much. If only I had known I'd never get those long talks with my mother, I would've told her everything I had ever felt and ever experienced. Punch, punch, double punch, roundhouse kick, front kick, spinning kick. I would have done everything differently, had I just known.

I tried to focus on just the mantra in my head, trying to rid myself of those agonizing thoughts. After a while, I was able to just lose myself in the pattern. Punch, punch, double punch, roundhouse kick, front kick, spinning kick. Even when my knuckles became bloody, the chakra I pumped into my fists gave me burns, and the stump looked about ready to surrender, I continued. I was not eleven years old, anymore, and preparing for the genin exams that would never occur. Kazuo was not here to tell me to stop this time. If I passed out from exhaustion, I didn't care. I could die here, for all I cared. I just kept going. I wasn't aware when the sun finally dipped below the line of trees. I didn't watch the sky as it faded from the yellow of sunset, to orange and pink, to purple and red, to blue, to navy, and finally to the pitch black of night. I didn't even notice when the clouds rolled over the mountain with the Hokages' faces on them, until they made a thick dark blanket in the sky above me. I didn't stop when the rain started pattering down over the field, making the ground slick and muddy beneath me. I didn't stop when I was unable to distinguish between tears and raindrops as they streaked down my face.

Then I finally just stopped. My legs shook uncontrollably, until I finally collapsed onto my knees, the mud splashing around me. I held my hands up to my face, watching the rain wash away the blood. My skin was so pale in the dim moonlight that the blood looked black as it washed down my wrists and between my fingers. It looked just like my brother's blood had looked on my hands, and like the blood of the men I had killed. My hands dropped to my knees, and I looked up to the moon as it peeked through the clouds, allowing the rain to wash over my face.

"What am I supposed to do now?" I whispered, knowing no one could hear me.

My clothes were drenched. The civilian clothing clung to my body, hanging down from my arms like soggy, broken wings. These clothes weren't meant to be durable, and didn't last like ninja clothing could. I hated them. I missed Keiko's too-short shorts and too-tight shirt. She hadn't been the most practical when it came to clothing, going for what showed of her assets more than what would be better to fight in. But every time I had worn those stupid, revealing kunoichi clothes, I had thought of her. I missed her so much it hurt.

I stood up, stumbling forward on my shaking legs. I didn't know where I was going to go. I didn't care. I ambled along, not really aware of where my weak legs took me. I rubbed my arms, trying to put a little warmth back into them. It was a futile attempt. The cold permeated my clothes, through my skin, through the layers of muscle, until it settled on my bones. I shook violently, wondering when it got so cold. I supposed it was December, so I really shouldn't have been so surprised. I was farther north now. It was night time and it was raining. Suddenly my ability to be numb to the world went away, and now I was just so cold.

I walked through the thin layer of trees until I found the busy street from before. It was almost abandoned now. There were two streetlights still lit, and the only open establishments were the bars. When had it gotten so late? I walked down the streets, wincing when I walked across a few bars blaring loud music. The music seemed to rattle in my skull, giving me a massive headache. The only people around were the mostly drunk bar-goers, some heading home and some just playing in the rain as if they had no place they needed to be. They ignored me as if I was no more than a ghost walking down the street, completely invisible. I preferred it that way. Finally, I felt like people were obeying my wishes and just leaving me to wallow away.

I didn't know how long I had been walking before I heard them. I had crossed another alleyway, finding myself on another dark street. Everything around here looked the same to me. It was still raining, but only a miserable, cold drizzle. There were four men, laughing and quite obviously drunk. They were loud, so I looked over. All of them had shinobi headbands wrapped around them somewhere-two around their necks, one on his arm, the other on his forehead. Maybe they had just returned from a long, tiring mission and needed a night to forget everything that had happened. Maybe they just liked getting wasted because it was fun. I had no clue. I would be seventeen tomorrow (today?), so I couldn't drink alcohol legally for another year. Not that I really wanted to, though. When I looked over, they saw me and stared back. One muttered something to the others, and they laughed.

That's when they started following me. I didn't even know they were following me until I turned down a nondescript alleyway to nowhere and they did too. I was sure they had no reason to be in this alleyway, besides perhaps being burdensome to me. I could hear them yelling out to me, but couldn't have deciphered their slurs had I wanted to. When I turned left at the end of the long passageway, my heart sank. This alleyway was a dead end. I touched the wall sadly, feeling the fear creep up my spine. I could have walked up this wall... had I had any chakra left to spare. All my chakra had been spent through chakra-induced punches and kicks during my useless exercises. The stump in that training field had took all the damage, leaving nothing for these annoying jerks. I turned at the end of the narrow passageway, whipping the kunai out of my jacket in time to see them turn the corner. They laughed when they saw me.

"Oh preeeetty gir' wansta fight, huh?" One cooed, as if I was a child yielding a wooden kunai or something. My anger boiled. If only I wasn't so cold and weak... If only I had an ounce of chakra left... I would've beaten these guys into next week.

"I dunno, I like when dey fight, don't you?" Another asked, stepping slowly closer to me. They were so drunk it would have been easy. I could have knocked them all on to their pathetic butts so quickly they wouldn't have been able to slur their names out. But all I could feel were my weak, shaking limbs and the heavy, soggy clothing that hung from them. I felt so useless.

"Come here, pretty girl." One reached out, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to him. I slashed at him with the kunai, but he grabbed that wrist as well. If someone this drunk had better coordination than me, I had serious problems.

"Don't touch me, you filthy low-life." I sneered, trying to jerk my wrists from his big hands.

"Low-life?" The foursome laughed jovially, making my teeth grit in anger. "Honey, we're ninjas! You never been sooo lucky... you're just a poor lil' village girl. I bet you dreeaamed about stron', hamsome ninjas like us."

The man wrapped his big, meaty arm around my waist and pulled me to him. He puckered his big, wet lips and I fought terribly. I was just so tired and cold and weak, and he was just so strong. He was so close, I could smell the alcohol still quite pungent on his breath. This could not be my first kiss, this could not be my first kiss, this could not be my first kiss!

I screamed as I felt another pair of arms wrap around me from behind. I struggled, trying to break free of their strong holds on me. Then, suddenly, everything disappeared. One moment I had been there, and the next second I was gone. That's when I- we? -landed.

I felt one pair of warm arms carrying me. They let my feet fall to the ground as we landed, and I immediately sank to my knees. I was on a rooftop overlooking the entire village, the mountain with the Hokage faces looming high over my head. How in the world had I gotten here so quickly?

What was that? Some teleportation jutsu, I was sure. But no jutsu I had ever experienced had ever been that fast. A moment later, my stomach seemed to arrive, painfully flipping in the process. I scrambled away on my hands and knees to empty my stomach over the side of the building. I hoped no one was walking below to see that.

"Is she drunk?" A voice asked in a clear, high-pitched monotone.

"No, Kakashi. She's just scared." Another voice assured. This one I recognized, and I felt the annoyance and anger fill me immediately.

"I wasn't scared, y-you idiot." I stated firmly, wiping my mouth as I turned around. I could still taste the bile in my mouth, and it made me gag again. "W-what the hell did you just d-do to me, Minato?"

"You know this civilian girl?" The other voice asked, and I saw the young boy now who was speaking. He was small and thin, with a spiky fringe of silver hair popping out of his headband. A mask covered his whole face except for his two onyx colored eyes. He wore all black and had a katana strapped to his back. Behind that mask, I couldn't tell what he really might have looked like, but he couldn't have been more than twelve years old.

"That was my Flying Thunder God technique. I saved your life and most likely your dignity, Kushina-hime." The older man said, looking very grim. "Yes, Kakashi, I know her. This is Kushina Uzumaki. Kushina-hime, this is my student Kakashi."

I glared at the little impassive boy, not liking him already. He was so calm, he seemed practically robotic. What was his problem? I didn't know, but I didn't care at the moment. Not when that stupid Blonde was so much more annoying than his little twerp. "You d-did not save me, you imbecile. I could've h-handled th-them."

Shivers wracked my body as I spoke, half from the cold, half from the pain of retching, and a tad bit from the fear that I refused to admit I felt. He looked at me like I was stupid. "That kunai signals me when its bearer is in trouble. I give them to special people so that I can protect them, should they have need of it. You needed it."

"D-did not." I muttered through my chattering teeth. I tried standing up, only to stumble back to the ground once more.

"Are you sure she's not drunk, Minato-sensei?" The boy asked again, and I glared back at him. He did not even acknowledge my presence, talking about me as if I weren't even there.

"I'm positive, Kakashi." Minato said patiently, with just a hint of shielded exasperation in his voice. "She's only sixteen."

"Seventeen." I amended sadly, looking up at the moon. It was well past midnight now, which meant it was December 12th: my birthday.

"What?" Minato asked.

"Seventeen." I repeated, still looking up at the moon as it gleamed through the thinning rain clouds. "It's after m-midnight. Which m-means I'm seventeen y-years old t-today."

"Oh." Minato said, his tone and expression softening instantly at my admission. He looked over at his pupil. "Go home, Kakashi. Good work today. I'll see you in a few days."

"Yes, Minato-sensei." The boy said before zipping across the rooftops away from us. Those two had way too much in common, I decided. They were both so calm and they both had a certain knack for annoying me... but that could've just been Leaf ninja in general. I didn't know enough of them to make a firm conclusion yet.

Without even asking, Minato scooped me up from the ground like I weighed no more than a doll. I fumed. "Put me d-down."

"You can't even walk, Kushina-hime." He said, a flicker of an amused smile playing at his lips. He was so infuriating.

"I'll c-crawl back to m-my apartment, if that's w-what it takes. I s-said, put me down!" I punched at his shoulders, regretting the fact that I didn't have any chakra left to enforce the punches. I tried to release myself from his iron grasp, but it was no use. Looking around, I had no clue where I was. I was so close to the Hokage monument that I had to be very far from my apartment building. All the buildings in the dim light of moon looked the same to me, indistinguishable from each other. "Where are y-you taking m-me?"

"My apartment. It's that building just there." He pointed with the hand that was braced around my shoulders. This building was much nicer than mine, and I was almost curious to see what these apartments looked like. I would have been very curious had I not been being abducted by an annoying blonde.

"No, you certainly are not!" My teeth finally stopped chattering for the moment. Probably because, through the wet skin of clothing I had on, I could feel his warmth like he was radiating his own heat. After being so cold, it felt so amazing that I almost leaned my head back to fall into blissful moments of sleep. I would have, had I trusted this man at all. But I didn't.

"You're freezing. You're soaking wet. My apartment is just down there, and it has a fireplace and hot tea-"

"I don't like tea." I told him, hating how much like a child I sounded. He smiled, though.

"Good. Me neither. Hot chocolate, then. Not to mention, you spent two unconscious weeks and one conscious week at the hospital. I doubt you'd like to return for catching pneumonia, would you?" He just had to be so damn reasonable.

Knowing from the five days spent in my apartment that I did not have hot chocolate, I thought about that for a moment as he paused on the rooftop. It sounded too good to pass up... it had been so long since I had been allowed sweets... "Fine." I relented. "But can you please just walk into your apartment like a normal person, instead of your freaky teleportation thing? I'd rather not lose my stomach again, thank you very much."

He laughed, and I could feel the rumbling of his chest against me. I was not amused. "Yeah, yeah, pretty boy, get going."

He didn't move. I looked up into his face, and almost flinched at how close his was to mine. He peered down at me, his eyes squinted in scrutiny. "Pretty boy?"

I could feel the heat of my blush rush up my neck and into my cheeks, and had I not been so embarrassed I might have welcomed the warmth. I shrugged my shoulders as well as I could in his grip. "I don't know. Just go. I'm f-freezing."

"Uh huh." He chuckled at me, beginning to walk slowly towards the direction he had pointed earlier. "I might have fallen for that pitiful stutter if you weren't blushing so badly."

I gritted my teeth, almost wishing I had enough energy to hit him with a chakra-induced punch. Then he might not be laughing so much. I heard the buzz of chakra as he forced some into his feet, walking straight down the building as if it was no trouble at all. Of course, I knew it wasn't any trouble for 90 percent of experienced ninja, but he didn't know that I knew that. He gripped me tighter, as if he was worried that I'd be afraid. Even when I didn't show the slightest sign of fear, he didn't loosen his grip on me—not even when we met even ground once again in front of the apartment complex. When we approached the doors, a doorman opened them for us and nodded a hello at Minato. He didn't so much as blink in shock when he saw me in Minato's grasp. It made me wonder if this was the kind of thing Minato did on a regular basis: carrying shivering, blushing, pitiful teenage girls out from the cold. I didn't think I really wanted to know.

He carried me slowly up the stairs, and by this point I was about to make him put me down. Between his warmth, my embarrassment, and the apartment complex's heater, I was quite warm by this point. I probably could have walked on my own. But for some reason, I didn't so much as utter a word. When we made it to the very last floor, he paused at a red door with gold numbers labeling the apartment. The paint wasn't chipped or faded, like mine, but shiny as if it had been done yesterday. Leaning down, he placed his right thumb on a pad above the golden door knob. I heard the quick buzz of chakra, and suddenly the door clicked open.

"Chakra locks." I stated, not able to hide how impressed I was. "That's nifty."

He chuckled at me again, kicking open the door the rest of the way. "Thank you. I made them myself."

Of course he did. Why would I have thought anything different?

For just a moment as he paused outside his door, the awkwardness was tangible in the air. Here I was, being carried bridal style into an older guy's apartment. I wonder if he felt it too. I supposed not, because he carried me through as if it was no big deal to him. The room we entered was as big as my entire apartment put together. There was a comfortable-looking couch and armchair spaced evenly around a large coffee table. In front of that was a big brick fireplace, which looked neat and unused. The firewood lying beside it looked untouched.

On top of the mantle was a long row of picture frames, filled with colorful, happy-looking people. On the farthest left, there was a picture of a couple, a man with spiky, honey colored hair and a woman with straight, bright blonde hair, holding a new-born, bright blonde baby boy on a hospital bed. Beside them was a young girl, perhaps four or five years old, with short blonde hair like her mother's and huge, happy grin. All of them had bright, blue irises staring out at me through smiling eyes. That must have been his family on the day he was born, I guessed. Beside that frame was a taller one, with the same girl from the other picture, but much older. It must have been at least ten years later. She had her arm around a young boy with spiky blonde hair; both of them holding a peace sign up, both with blue eyes closed in laughter. She looked much like her mother from the picture before. She was very beautiful. After that picture was what I assumed to be a ninja team picture. Minato and two other young boys stood in beside a young, white-haired man with red streaks down his cheeks. His hair was so spiky, it looked like he and Minato could have been distantly related.

The next picture was the one my gaze lingered on the longest, because it was so different from all the others. In every other picture, the subjects looked happy and alive. But not this one. The same white-haired man from before was in this one, looking tall and proud beside his student, but Minato looked into the camera without the barest hint of emotion. His face was drawn, and he was tall and too skinny. He wore a sleeveless shirt, armor, long gloves, a pure white mask on top of his head, and a katana strapped to his back. The change in his expression was so starkly different that, had I not seen the spiky blonde hair beneath the white mask, I would've thought it was a completely different person.

"…Uh, Kushina-hime?" I heard Minato clear his throat.

I snapped back into reality, realizing I had been staring for quite a long time around the room. "What?"

"I asked if you'd like to take a hot shower while I make the hot chocolate and start the fire. I could get you some clothes… they'll be too big, of course, but at least they'll be dry and warm." He looked into my blank face, waiting for a few moments for me to answer.

"Um, yes please. You can let me down now, I think." Finally yielding to my request, he set me on my feet. When I finally placed my own weight on my legs, he braced my elbow just in case I threatened to fall again. I was glad that my legs didn't betray me, only shaking a little this time.

When I was firmly standing, he let me go. "Right then, I'll go get those clothes for you…"

I stood, wrapping my wet, bandaged arms around my torso as I looked back over at the picture frames. Still, my gaze went immediately to the fourth picture as if it held its own gravitational pull. I reluctantly tore my gaze from the mantle once again as he re-entered the living space from what I assumed was his bedroom. He held out a thick pile of black clothing, and I almost cringed. More black… I almost ungratefully asked for something more colorful, but managed to control myself. I took the pile from his hands, and he pointed me in the direction of the bathroom.

After I entered the room and locked the door, I turned the faucet to the hottest setting, letting the steam roll through the room over the shower curtain. Before it fogged the mirror, I gazed at myself in the reflective surface. I recoiled in shock at the sight. Touching my hand to my face, I hardly recognized the girl staring back at me, with bruised fingers barely grazing her face. My face was gaunt and pale, too thin from my lack of food over the past month. My eyes looked… lost. I immediately realized why that expression on my face looked so familiar. It was just like the one on Minato's in that picture. I averted my eyes away, scared of the girl looking back at me.

My clothes clung to my thin body, making me look even scarier. My hair had grown well past my hips, but it was thin and wiry at the bottom where some had been burnt off in the fire. Scrambling in my jacket for the kunai, I almost burst out into sobs when I realized it was gone. I must have dropped it in the scramble from before. I looked through the drawers below his sink until I found a pair of scissors. Clutching the scissors with one shaking hand, I cut clean through my hair ten inches from the bottom. I silently prayed it would grow back healthy as I watched the damaged pieces fall to the tile, crimson red against pure white.

I shed my clothes, letting them fall into a wet heap on top of the pile of hair. I delicately folded my brother's jacket, hanging it neatly on the towel rack to dry. The rest of the clothes, I didn't care about. I stepped under the scalding stream of water, wishing it would sink through my skin to replace the cold. I soaked there for what seemed like an eternity, lathering shampoo through my long hair slowly, still praying silently that it would grow back healthy. When my skin was red and raw from the hot water, I finally stepped out, wrapping a fluffy white towel around my too-thin body. After I dried off my body and towel-dried my hair, I put on the long black pants and big black shirt. Both were so big on me that I lost myself in them, but they were warm and comfortable so I wasn't complaining. Before I approached the door, I picked up the soggy pile of clothing from the floor, making sure all the long, wet tendrils of hair were trapped in the wad before I threw the entire thing in the waste basket.

Unlocking the door and peering outside, I saw Minato sitting cross-legged in front of the coffee table with a white box in front of him. When he heard me, he looked up and smiled. I almost shook my head at the sight of him. How did he do it? How did he smile so easily? I saw the look on his face in that picture… pure loss and grieving, much like I felt now. How did he heal? How could he sit there and smile at me like he had never lost anyone he loved? The charming couple, his parents… the beautiful girl, his sister… he had told me their fate. How could he just forget them?

"I thought I'd redress your wounds." He said, the smile still never leaving his face. He gestured to my folded arms. "They got pretty wet out there."

I nodded, walking out of the bathroom to sit in front of him. I held out my arms, and he folded back the long sleeves as far as he could. He unraveled the gauze strips starting at my thin wrists, revealing the fresh pink scars beneath. Concern lit his eyes at the sight of them. "You know, they could have healed these for you. They're miracle workers at the hospital. They can get rid of any scars."

I nodded, watching him wipe the long, pale gashes clean. "I know. I asked them not to heal them."

He looked up into my face, but I did not meet his gaze. I would not let myself forget the sacrifices my family had made. I would wear the scars forever, knowing how fortunate I was to be alive. He took thick rolls of clean white bandages from the first-aid box in front of him, and began wrapping them from my shoulder to my wrist. I watched, falling into a quiet daze. When he was finished, his gaze fell onto my hands. He grabbed them softly, staring intently at the deep gashes on my knuckles and chakra burns lining my fingers.

"What did you do to yourself?" He muttered quietly, shocked and horrified at the sight.

"It's nothing." I attempted to pull my hands out of his, but winced at the pain.

"That's not nothing." He said, his eyes boring into my face. He looked almost angry. But before he could scrutinize me further, the distant cry of the kettle interrupted us. I breathed a sigh of relief as he left the room, and I tucked my throbbing hands into the long sleeves of his shirt. He had hung his green leaf jounin vest on a hook in the corner, and I stared at the back of it despondently. On the back of the green vest was a large red circle with a swirling line through it: the Uzumaki family symbol. I had known that one of my distant relatives had been married to the first Hokage, but I hadn't known that they had adopted our family symbol as well. I looked at the reminder miserably, thinking it was taunting me with its big, red presence in the room.

I heard him enter the room through the swinging door to the kitchen, and saw him holding two steaming mugs out in front of him. Both had big, thick swirls of whipped cream on top, but one had a tiny, light blue candle sticking out of the top as well. The candle was lit and it flickered as he walked towards me. He placed the mug with the candle in front of me, and I stared at it dumbly.

He chuckled at my expression. "Happy Seventeenth Birthday. I know it's not much… but, on short notice, you know?" I stared up at him, my eyes wide and questioning. He shrugged, one hand lifting up to rub the back of his head in embarrassment. "Well, are you going to make a wish or not?"

A blush lit my cheeks once again, but I didn't know why. I told myself it was just the heat. It was really warm in here… Staring at the flickering flame for a moment, I thought about what on Earth I could wish for at this point. No stupid, birthday candle was going to bring back everything I had ever lost. But then why did I suddenly fill with hope, as if it would? I inwardly admonished myself at the thought.

This was so stupid. But, for some reason I couldn't fathom, I couldn't disappoint him. Leaning forward, I closed my eyes.

Just let me feel whole again… please.

I blew out a puff of air, opening my eyes in time to see his bright blue irises follow the thin trail of smoke that rose from the little candle.

So what did you think? Please let me know in a review, they inspire me to write faster! ;) Let me know what you guys like or don't like or what you want to see happen! I love your opinions.