The girl had done well.
He wasn't quite smiling, but he could tell that the scowl that had adorned his face for the last few days was finally receding. It wasn't that he had expected them to do badly… but such leaps of success were more than he had hoped for. Hoping was something that he simply didn't do. If anything, Danzō Shimura was a firmly-convinced pragmatic, down to the bone.
But the latest mission had gone well, nay, better than well, it had gone splendidly for one key reason, unbeknownst to his men. The two Root operatives that had searched through the Uzumaki home had included Lark this time around, and her prowess with seals had come in handy. Granted, she was no Uzumaki-level Fūin Master, but she had proven useful enough when it came to locating and breaking locked compartments. Which was exactly what Hyōjin Uzumaki had had at the back of his desk.
Prudent, Danzō allowed, more vexed with his men for not having found it sooner rather than with the man's sensible secrecy.
Still, it had done the man little good, in the end.
Lark and Yokai had successfully copied the majority of the scrolls, even if they had been interrupted… He filed that particular displeasure for later exploration; he was incredibly disinclined to believe in coincidences. Perhaps the girl had rigged an alarm system for trespassers? But why? Had she realised her home had been searched?
No matter. Whatever the reason, the Uzumaki girl had come late.
His fingers ran over the neatly rolled scrolls before him, stopping over the last one, the vital one, now bound with a black leather strap.
"Tell me again, in detail." he said and Lark nodded, head still bowed as she kneeled before him.
She had worked whole night to go over the information they had found, organising it in separate scrolls.
"It contains basic emergency seals that can be used to stop a Jinchūriki losing control. They must have had them on hand in case they needed to interfere, if the girl lost it." Lark recited monotonously, steadily "They vary in strength and have been sorted according to the number of tails they aim to subdue; possible side-effects to the forceful containment increase with the seals' strength too. It's all listed, to the best of my ability."
His hand wrapped around the scroll, lifting it to examine it better. Such a small thing, for such a monumental discovery.
"You've done well." he said and the girl paused in surprise, before nodding once.
Praise was a rare, fleeting thing, in Root. He didn't grant it lightly. But in this case…
Hiruzen had a set of similar scrolls, he was certain, but he hadn't shared them with his advisors… nor would he, unless a Bijū containment disaster was at hand. The Hokage would do his best to avoid using this gift, Danzō knew; he feared the consequences for the girl… giving little thought to the consequences for Konoha, the situation exacerbating with each passing day when they loitered around while Kumo trained their weapon instead.
His fingers tightened about the parchment, eyes darting sideways, to the heap of notes he had examined yesterday, finding the pile that contained everything he had on Minato Namikaze's work.
The idea was unfurling in his mind, taking root, twisting with the many possibilities suddenly presenting themselves even without Orochimaru's help. And, for the first time in a long while, Danzō Shimura smiled.
"Minato!" she called out merrily, weaving through the crowd.
He turned around, the sun-filled smile already dancing on his lips, and she could feel her heart skip a beat as she beheld him. How odd, this warmth that blossomed in her chest every time she saw him, even if she saw him every day… and every night.
She quickly cast the thought aside, before her thoughts ran away from her; instead, she stopped beside him, at a polite distance, just in case, turning to the tiny shinobi by his side.
"Hey Kakashi, long time no see, ya know!"
The child nodded, greeting her most politely, an air of rigid discomfort about him and Kushina had to suppress a sigh. Minato had warned her… the kid didn't seem to go out much at all.
"Was I late? I'm starving and I haven't even been training, you two must be ravished, ya know."
"Not really." Kakashi said, just as his stomach gave out a rumbling sound and, even if the mask hid his face pretty well, she could still make out the tips of his ears turning red for it.
She grinned, poking his forehead with one finger.
"A shinobi needs food, ya know, to train even longer and become stronger. And there's hardly any food better than ramen. Just ask Minato, he was the wimp of our class until I introduced him to Ichiraku's."
Kakashi's look was all scepticism as he directed a quizzical look at his sensei. Minato just sighed through exasperation, shaking his head. He seemed to have long given up contradicting her jibes about their student years.
"Kushina is right, at least about good food being important anyway… Ration bars are not enough, you need nutritional variety for a strong body." he allowed, lifting the flap as they made their way into the stall, and Kushina could have sworn the boy's face had taken on a contemplative look now as he chewed on the words.
"Ah, Kushina-chan, Minato-san! Long time no see!" Teuchi called out as soon as they stepped in and she suddenly felt very much at home, greeted by an old friend.
She had visited Ichiraku regularly of course, but it had been so long since she had come with Minato… It all came back to her now, all the memories of the many afternoons they had spent here, laughing along merrily, contesting towers of empty ramen bowls, legs swinging over chairs too-tall. She hadn't thought it would hit her quite so suddenly, the bitter-sweet sense of nostalgia that seemed to now be mirrored in his look too, a soft smile playing in the corners of his lips.
"Os!" she called out just as Minato said "Indeed it has, Teuchi-san."
The man nodded, beaming, before he peeked curiously over the counter at Kakashi.
"And who might this be?"
Kakashi's look held every uncertainty.
"This is Kakashi Hatake, my student." Minato made the introductions and Kushina couldn't help but notice the tint of pride in his voice as he put a hand at the boy's shoulder.
And for a moment Kakashi stood a little taller, chest puffing out before he bowed politely.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Kakashi-chan." Teuchi said mildly. "Look at you, a sensei now, ah? Good on you, Minato, congratulations!"
The jōnin inclined his head in acknowledgement, bright smile never leaving his face as he took a seat beside Kakashi, Kushina mirroring him on the other side of the kid.
"Well, what will it be? The usual?"
"You know me well, Teuchi-san." she said, Minato nodding along too, and she grinned, throwing a glance at him over Kakashi's head.
Their eyes met for a moment, his look lingering ever so briefly, lips quirking up lopsidedly, and she felt that same feeling of heat flutter through her, spilling down her frame at the sight of the sweet secret carefully tucked away in his eyes and his smiles. And then the moment slipped, Teuchi turning to the boy between them next.
"And for the young shinobi here?"
Kakashi glanced at Minato, as if unsure what to do next, and the blonde smiled, gesturing to the menu on the wall.
"A… miso ramen?" he said, almost as a question and Kushina could have rolled her eyes.
Seriously, Sakumo-sensei needed to take the kid out more often.
"An excellent choice!"
The man busied himself with the preparation of their food and Kushina turned to the wisp of a boy beside her, once again taking in the stiff shoulders and unnatural stillness. She could have rolled her eyes.
Well, at least there was one thing she knew to always make Kakashi Hatake feel more at ease with social interactions.
"So, how's training going?"
Out of the corner of her eyes she could see Minato throw a knowing look her way, smile widening just as Kakashi's eyes positively lit up. She could have chuckled at the child's attempt to sound blasé as he launched in an explanation about their morning's session and how far he had managed to body flicker without even staggering once.
Minato was listening calmly, chin propped over his hand as he followed his student with a fond look and perhaps it was only because she was so very aware of him at all times that she noticed instantly when the atmosphere shifted as he suddenly straightened up. An edge of seriousness flashed through his look and he glanced back, just in time to catch the flap of the stall lifting again, a kunoichi stepping in soundlessly behind them. And Kushina somehow knew, even before she saw the smooth porcelain mask covering her face.
"Minato Namikaze. You've been summoned by Hokage-sama for immediate deployment."
So they wouldn't get to enjoy ramen together after all.
The jōnin nodded, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, and the woman disappeared in thin air as if she had never been there. Within seconds Minato had schooled his expression into a polite smile, turning back to the white-haired boy who was now watching him warily.
"Forgive me, Kakashi, it seems we'll have to postpone training for a day or two. I'll leave you with Kushina for now… and I suppose someone will have to take care of my ramen when it's done." he said mildly, as if he hadn't just been informed that he was being sent to war.
All for Kakashi, she knew. For the boy whose father was constantly at the front.
"A difficult task. But I suppose we can manage, ya know." she made herself call back, squashing down on the irrational worry that twisted in her belly.
He was Konoha's Yellow Flash after all… He had seen plenty of battlefields. It was his enemies that needed worrying. And yet…
His eyes found hers again as he made to his feet, hesitating momentarily, a silent apology in his look, and she gulped. The need to talk to him, to touch him, zinged through her almost strikingly, stealing her breath, and she willed herself still consciously, dimly aware of Teuchi and his little daughter behind the counter, and Kakashi who had turned in his chair to peer at his sensei.
"Let me know as soon as you're back. I mean… We can't fall behind with the barrier, ya know." she added quickly, swallowing past the dryness in her throat. "I'll keep at it until you come back, but I'll expect you to pick up your end soon, ya know."
A small knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips, eyes softening as he inclined his head.
"I'll come back as soon as possible then." he murmured, an unspoken promise, and she nodded.
All too soon he had lifted the flap of the small stall, stepping in the lively street and she was momentarily taken with the simple sight of him, the determined look in his eyes and the sternness in the set of his jaw and his broad shoulders, sunlight caught in his golden hair. And just like that he disappeared in a Hiraishin, leaving a swirl of dust behind.
The medical tent was messy, as any field hospital. Equipment was scattered about haphazardly, probably left as it had been unsealed before being needed. There were exactly five baskets to the left, seven boxes on the right, filled with scrolls and rags. The small makeshift table next to her chair had two syringes, three sterilised sewing needles, one pair of scissors, four strips of bandages, two jars of anti-inflammatory ointment and one vile with iodine.
Crude. Insufficient.
The thoughts floated somewhere on the surface as her eyes took in everything distractedly, registering and counting without really processing.
"Any pain?"
The medic nin was young, probably still in his early twenties, his inexperience evident in the slight trembling in his fingers and the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. He had swallowed nervously thirty-seven times since he had started bandaging her arm.
All of this she had noticed without really looking at him. Her eyes had fixed on the opposite side of the tent, examining a dark stain that resembled a lizard in shape. She could almost fancy it moving when the gusts of wind flapped the cloth of the tent.
He had asked her something around forty seconds ago. Had she answered? She wasn't certain.
"I-I've bandaged your arm. It didn't need stitches, but you should change it tonight, to avoid infection, okay?" the man said, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"You do know you're talking to Tsunade Senju, right? She knows how to avoid infection." his partner said from somewhere to the left where she was tending to another patient with a broken leg.
"I bloody well know, thank you, Kayo." her medic retorted, a note of exasperation creeping in his voice. "You do know that she-"
Whatever he had been about to say was cut short by the shouts outside.
"Medic! Medic, please!" a man was saying frantically.
A scuffling sound, a grunt of pain and the flap of the tent lifted, admitting a gust of cold wind along with the figures that shifted inside with difficulty. Both medics rushed to help, exiting her static field of vision, tending to whoever the frantic man had dragged in. And then it reached her, sharp and tangy and metallic at the back of her throat – the smell of blood.
She froze, whole body growing taut as a bowstring.
"My sister, please! Her arm- it- they just-"
The words, so near just now, had started drifting quieter, as if the tent had elongated, pitching everyone and everything further away by the second. The lizard-that-was-not-a-lizard seemed to be lost in the distance as her vision narrowed, the world shrinking to a needlepoint. Sweat had broken over her forehead, pulse picking up in a rush.
"They took it off. They just took it off. Right off." the newcomer was repeating incredulously, as if from far away, voice rising and falling in distress.
Her heart was racing, blood thumping in her ears, drowning out most sounds, her breathing coming out hard and erratic.
"…lay her down-"
"…tighten the tourniquet, I'll get more bandages…"
"…too much blood, she needs transfusions…"
"…don't have anything, we need to stabilise her, her vitals…"
"Tsunade-sama!" her name came as a whiplash, the first thing she might have heard clearly since the man had entered and she felt her muscles constrict at the sound of it, even if she didn't budge. "Tsunade-sama, please! You- You're the best medic we have, please, we'll lose her!"
Ever-so-slowly, as if made of lead, she turned to look at them, eyes wide with the panic she could feel bubbling up her throat.
They had lain the girl on a cot, bent over her pale form, bandaging the stump of what had been her right arm. And the blood. It was everywhere, on her clothes and on the floor and on their uniforms, seeping through the bandages, marring the medics' hands, splatters of it finding their way to their faces and their hair and the walls of the tent.
She could feel her lungs constrict, throat tightening, her stomach dropping at the sight.
"Kayo, she can't-"
But the newcomer, the brother, had heard the girl's words and had now made to his feet, fixing Tsunade with burning, fervent eyes.
"Please, kunoichi-san! My sister-" he said, and the man who had been bandaging her earlier reached for him, trying to hold him back.
"Wait, don't, she's in no state- she lost someone dear-"
"Lost someone dear?! All the more reason, she must know- My sister is still alive, she can still be saved!" the man said, wrenching his arm away, nearing her in a firm step.
Tsunade had somehow gotten up already, staring at the man in dawning terror.
"Please, save her!"
He reached for her, his hand redredred, and the shout tore from her throat without her quite realising it, the black-cold feeling of utter horror finding words.
"STAY AWAY FROM ME!"
She stumbled back, feet catching in the chair, and then the calloused fingers had wrapped around her forearm; she pushed back in instinct, chakra swirling in frenzy, and the man went flying, finding himself sprawled on the ground a good two meters away by the boxes.
She barely registered any of it. There were bloodied marks on her arm, stark red against her pale skin, a rivulet sliding down toward her elbow. Her hands were trembling uncontrollably, all drenched in blood now. Dan was lying in front of her, icy-skinned and white as a sheet, staring unseeingly at the night sky and his chest was gaping red and he was dead, dead, dead, and she was alone and helpless and useless and-
"Tsunade!"
It was only then that she realised she had been screaming, dropped to the floor unseeing by the opposite side of the tent where she had backed away to. She was whole drenched in cold sweat, heart hammering against her chest, trying to break out of her ribs, as she gasped for air desperately. Her hand shot up to her collar, twisting at the fabric there, trying to ease the constriction away.
Orochimaru was kneeling before her, eyes sharpened to attention and… worry?
Funny, how that would be the thing that caught her attention in that state. It had been quite long since she had seen her stoic teammate worry.
"I- I can't-" she rasped out, gasping for air, "I saw- The blood, I can't-"
He nodded, eyes hardening as comprehension dawned. And the look he threw at the two medics and the man who had approached her was close to murderous. The flash of steel and he took a kunai out, lightning fast; she felt a chill run down her spine, terror formed anew-
But then the sound of ripping cloth reached her from right beside her as Orochimaru cut a hole in the side of the tent with quick sure moves. Blessed fresh air filled her nostrils, full of the scents of forest, mud and rain, and she inhaled deeply as the black-haired man brought her arm over his shoulder, helping her to rise and exit the dreaded tent through the slashed cloth.
"Let's get you home."
She nodded numbly. And all that she could feel was rigid exhaustion and mute terror and… disgust… at herself, she realised, because in the split second in which she feared her teammate had been about to exact misplaced vengeance on her behalf over the people in that tent, it hadn't been the loss of innocent life that had frightened her… but only the concept of more blood.
It was the quiet, he thought.
The quiet and the unnatural stillness that hung about, draped over the world for as far as he could see, painted stark red, mixing with the colours of war, like a wound on the surface of the Earth.
He had seen his fair share of battlefields, but very few, he realised, in the after. He'd come down, descend upon his enemies, like the vengeful spirit of tales of old; Konoha's White Fang, a force to be reckoned with.
He was the one who created the after, seeping death in merciless strokes.
And most of what he had seen, had been the moments right after, walking amongst the bloodied figures of friends and foes, aiding those who could still be helped, disposing of enemies that had somehow survived. But even then, it hadn't been quite silent, not really, not amongst the muffled cries and moans of pain, amongst the shouts for help.
This was different.
This battle had taken place some three days ago. They'd fought and lost and now they were dead, the corpses left untouched amongst the chaos of pushing back enemies and re-establishing front lines. The perpetual rainy weather of the region had kept the flies away, but the carrion birds still circled above, undeterred. The ground had soaked up the water until it could take no more, turning it mushy, waterlogged, scattered with puddles streaked red; the very mud seemed to have turned bloody, sucking up at his boots.
The Land of Rain's red marshes, he had heard them called – the battlefields that they left behind.
Empty. Haunting. Stock-still, save for the few youths who moved between them soundlessly, wraith-like, with emotionless eyes. Their armbands marked them as the monks of the Grey Order, affiliating them with the Shinto shrines of every country, attesting neutrality. They'd sport bags with body sealing scrolls, he knew, collecting corpses from both sides. They'd start with those bearing clan insignia, moving to the jōnin and chūnin of each land. They'd then label them neatly and deliver them to each village in time. To be buried with honours of course. War heroes and all.
Konoha wouldn't exactly pay for their trouble – buying corpses was unseemly. But they would donate to the shrines in gratitude… as did every other village, honouring the same unspoken agreement. A common problem, handled efficiently…
But not by him. Because there was always another battlefield waiting ahead, another frontline that needed helping, another mission that had to be led. Another marsh for the bereaved and for the Grey Monks to pick clean.
Not this time. He had made himself come back and see. Because this battlefield had been created not by him, but because of him. Because of his choice.
And it was one thing to see a field of slain enemies, forehead-protectors proclaiming foreign insignia over lifeless eyes… for as much as it chipped away at your soul there were always the blanket convictions one used to smother the terror of it – It had to be done. It was needed. It was for the ones I love.
But… it was quite different now, when the insignia born was that of Konoha; of his comrades; of his friends… scattered amongst bodies who bore no forehead protectors at all. Because they had fought desperately to protect the retreating caravans. And they had lost and died, right there amongst the civilians. Amongst the women. Amongst the children.
And not a single thing came to his mind, to alleviate the terror of this battlefield, caused, in a way, by his hand.
The silence was deafening, almost palpable, crashing against him and he gasped, fighting for breath. He didn't know when he had fallen to his knees, but he found himself bowing forward, hands sunk in the red watered mud.
And if his strangled cry made any sound at all, he didn't hear it.
There was only the silence all about.
The rain had finally retreated a day prior, giving way to fairer weather over Konoha. This day was shaping out to be particularly lovely, sun shining warmly without a speck of clouds on the horizon and Kushina took in a deep breath, enjoying the liveliness of the main bazar street, amongst its scents of herbs, flowers, baked goods and spices all about.
Judging by the bustling main street below the canopy of cherry blossoms, it seemed she wasn't the only one who had decided to enjoy the beauty of the season outside.
Spring becomes you.
The memory lingered at the back of her mind, along with an image of his warm smile and the indescribable tenderness in his eyes as he tucked a flower in her hair, and she could feel warmth sneak up to her cheeks, lips curling up in a smile. She hadn't thought it possible, that a person could feel this much happiness and not burst – it filled her up on the inside, like a bubble of joy that couldn't be contained, shining brilliantly throughout, finding outlet in her easy constant smiles.
"Any more, miss?" the fruit merchant asked and she realised she had spaced out for a moment, blinking away the distracting thoughts.
"Hm? Oh no, that's plenty, thank you."
He nodded, handing her the apples and wiping large hands on an apron dotted with fruit stains.
"Well then, that would be five ryo."
She had just fished out the coins, handing them to the smiling merchant when two older ladies paused briefly behind her to let someone else through before moving forward.
"…dead, is he?"
"Killed in battle, Saya said."
The sound of a clucking tongue and Kushina could almost picture them shaking their heads.
"Pity."
"She said her nephew's sent word from one of the outposts. Said they're coming back now, bringing him at the north-east gate. Let's…" the one woman was saying, her voice fading in the distance as the two of them moved away and Kushina paused, following them with an uncertain look.
She wasn't quite sure at first what had thrown her, but… the north-east gate was the one taken by shinobi leaving or returning from the Iwa front.
Without thinking she turned, weaving through the crowd to catch up with them, unnoticed.
"…we won this one?" the one lady was saying now, tossing one end of a long pink scarf over her shoulder.
"I think so, but they say many died. Civilians too this time, by the hear of it… The shinobi didn't manage in time."
"Some did though, didn't they? If that man died in battle..."
"Saya said so."
An uneasy feeling was sneaking down her frame, a cold tendril coiling in her stomach without her quite realising it. Her fingers opened and closed, again and again, around the handle of the bag, suddenly damp with sweat.
"They die so young nowadays… it's a shame."
"That's what I told her, I said 'Saya, it's a real shame', ask her if I didn't say it. And he was a strong one too, poor lad… The hero of the war in those parts, Saya said."
The bag slipped out of her hand through numb fingers, the fruit hitting the road and scattering at her feet. Her heart had lodged in her throat, breath hitching as she froze.
No.
Her mind wrapped around the single syllable, clinging to it desperately, ice crawling down her chest. The two ladies had heard the commotion behind them, an apple rolling between their neat shoes, and they stopped to look at it before turning back to her.
"You alright, sweetling?" the one with the pink scarf asked, a worried crease crossing her forehead as she took in Kushina's wild look.
"W-who?" she managed to stammer out, reaching out for the woman's sleeve. "Who were you talking about?"
The other lady furrowed her eyebrows, catching on that someone had overheard them, and she made to pull her friend back as if to protect her.
"Well I don't know now, do I? I don't know every shinobi's name, there's so many. Some war hero, they said. Could have made Hokage, the way I heard. More's the pity."
The words were like a stab, a twisted, jagged thing, tearing on the inside, and she gasped, her hand clutching vice-like at her own tunic.
No. No. No.
It couldn't be. He wasn't. He couldn't. It had been just four days and he had been right there, right there, with her, he couldn't have-
Trembling fingers reached down to her kunai pouch without thinking, in instinct, looking for an origami blossom that she had lost and with it – the way to knowing that it wasn't true, because it couldn't be true-
She wasn't sure when she had body flickered, flying across rooftops, leaving the crowded market behind as she rushed forward, her feet carrying her towards the north-east gate without thinking. Her heart was hammering in her chest, pulse racing in her throat, the single syllable echoing through her mind like a mantra, because nononono, he couldn't be-
And all that was before her eyes was his smile as he had risen to go to war, and his cloudless eyes as they sought hers out, the promise in his look, the sun playing in his locks and the whisper of his lips against her skin and his fingers twirling in her hair-
She couldn't lose it all, not now when she had just found it, she couldn't-
Her descent was violent, feet skidding down the street to kill her speed, dust swirling about her and she could see the guards bristle momentarily, their chakra thrumming in alarm almost palpably. She paid them no heed; a group of returning shinobi had already poured through the gate, registering at the entry desk, and she took in their battered look, the bandages wrapped about wounds, comrades supporting those weakened by the road.
And Minato… wasn't there.
Her heart dropped to her heels.
A glimpse of yellow caught her eyes and she whirled, but it was only Tsunade-sama, the woman standing at the edge of the group, next to Orochimaru-sama who had pinned Kushina with an intent look after her crazed entry.
Her feet carried her forward before she had quite thought it through.
"Tsunade-sama." she said, but the woman didn't budge, her eyes never leaving the road.
The words lodged in her throat, cold and sharp, burning on the inside. The Snake Sannin had raised an eyebrow, arms crossed before his chest.
"Out with it, girl." he rasped and she swallowed thickly.
She had braced for it once, expecting to hear the words after Uzu's fall. And if it had felt like submerging slowly then, the ocean of grief rising to engulf it all away, it was like being thrown in ice water all at once now, the cold stabbing on the inside; because she wasn't prepared to hear it, she didn't want to know-
The words tumbled out past numb lips.
"Minato… Where- Where is he?"
And despite it all she couldn't help the feeling that the dark-haired man was trying quite hard not to roll his eyes.
"We wouldn't know. He wasn't stationed with us."
"But… But they said… They said a war hero died, they-"
Tsunade visibly flinched. And when the older woman finally met her look, slowly, warily, as if each move weighed a ton… her eyes were hollow. Haunted. Void of light.
"Dan." she said quietly, and there was raw pain in her voice which could only mean one thing.
And in that moment of time, when faced with the Sannin's unimaginable sorrow, the only thing Kushina felt was a selfish, heart-wrenching surge of relief.
"Thank you."
He had drifted, tuning the words in and out, thoughts scattered like water slipping through clumsy fingers. And for once it had been his student who had assumed command, at least for the time being, welcoming the civilian man who had come to talk with the shinobi squad assigned to seeing their survivors relocated safely.
Sakumo hadn't heard most of what the man had said to Hizashi, but this last line, spoken fervently and with conviction, dragged him back to the current moment abruptly.
"Thank you for all you did, shinobi-san. My people… the ones who lived did so because of the sacrifice of Konoha. We'll remember it." the man was saying, bowing, hands clutching at the straw hat he had taken off as a sign of respect.
The Hyūga's jaw was clenched, the cords in his neck taut. His hands had formed trembling fists beneath the wide white sleeves of his tunic, Sakumo could tell.
He nodded once, curtly, acknowledging the gratitude even if it tasted sour in his mouth, judging by the carefully controlled expression on his face – blank, wiped of emotion – the face of a man capable of feeling deeply and showing none of it.
It was mirrored in the looks of his team, all standing about stiffly, rigidly. Shame had lodged in their throats, even if they were blameless. It hadn't been their call.
The man made to go, echoing his gratitude once more at the door and Tanaka-san averted her eyes.
Silence followed his retreat, strained and suffocating, and Sakumo felt as if the walls of the shabby run-down house they had made camp in were now coming inward, condensing the very air, tightening it.
His hands made loose fists, fingers opening and closing constantly, smearing imagined slickness over his palms. As much as he had rubbed at them later, the bloodied mud was still there, below his fingernails, colouring dark crescents.
Ito Tachi was the first to move, making his way to his commander in jerky steps, stopping right before him. His eyes, now narrowed in grim determination, were firmly fixed on the wall above Sakumo's shoulder, refusing to meet his look.
"Requesting my dismissal from team Hatake. Sir." he said curtly through gritted teeth, and even if aimed elsewhere, his stare was still accusatory, brimming with something akin to disdain.
Disdain… for the man who had forced them to be cowards; to run and save themselves when hundreds died with that choice. And even though he knew they were right to detest his decision, he felt the spark of defiance twist in him, the desire to hate the outcome, but never regret saving their lives.
So he lifted his chin instead, staring down at the young man impassively.
"Granted." he said and the man paused long enough only to throw a meaningful look at his remaining teammates before striding out of the room.
Mayushi Tanaka was next with the same request, followed by Kazue Hideki, their eyes holding the same wordless torrent.
And then there was only Hizashi.
The moonlight was filtering through the nearby window, outlining his student in the sharp contrast of night as he stood still, hands still trembling, head bowed, jaw clenched.
"Do you wish to be dismissed as well, Hizashi Hyūga?" he said in what he thought was an authoritative voice, but it came out empty instead.
Hollow.
Hizashi took a deep breath. And then he finally looked at him, the first one to do so, pinning him in place. Sakumo had braced for most anything, but the helpless fury and… betrayal… in his student's eyes felt almost like a punch. He flinched.
"You had no right." the Hyūga said, voice trembling with indignation.
"I was your commander. I had every right." he made himself say flatly.
"A shinobi must be prepared to lay down their life in service to their Hokage and their people. To protect the weak." the black-haired man recited, nearing his former sensei in a firm step. "Those are your words. You taught us the rules. You taught us duty. You taught us honour."
"It was not honourable to throw away your lives for chance-"
"What did Gorou die for, if not for chance?! If not for honour?!"
Sakumo recoiled, breath leaving him in a rush. His throat worked as he swallowed once, twice, trying for words that felt leaden in his mouth.
"Gorou wouldn't have wanted you to sacrifice your lives to give meaning to his death." he started past a gulp. "Our chances were next to none-existent. The only certainty in pursuing was death."
"It was not your choice to make!" the dark-haired man shouted, slashing through the air with one hand. "A shinobi must be able to choose what to lay their lives down for! Even if it is for chance! I'd rather die trying to protect than live knowing I didn't even try and be thanked for it!"
The sound of Hizashi's heavy breathing was the only noise in the room, the young man heaving before him, shaking with barely controlled rage, so very unusual for the ever-stoic Hyūga. If ever there was one thing their clan would not abide by, it was dishonour.
"You're wrong." Sakumo finally said, quietly. "It was my choice to make, as your jōnin commander."
And Hyūga Hizashi drew himself up to his full height, looking Sakumo straight in the eye – when had he grown so tall? – face spelling out nothing but cold ire.
"You chose wrong."
A crow cawed from somewhere outside the window, the ragged noise cutting through the silence.
A feeling of exhaustion was creeping up on Sakumo, a heaviness that he could feel in his gut and in his limbs, deep down to the bone. He felt trodden… threadbare, like an old cloth stretched thin. Dredging up a response was suddenly an insurmountable task.
And every second of silence that passed seemed to deepen Hizashi's frown. Finally, the young man gritted his teeth, upper lip curling in a look of severity… or perhaps disgust.
"I request my dismissal from team Hatake."
The quiet stretched unbearably and then slowly, warily, the strained words came.
"Granted."
The Hyūga turned on his heel, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him, leaving Konoha's White Fang alone in the suffocating stillness of the shabby room.
Her curtains twirled with the breeze through her open window and she tossed yet again, throwing her blanket to one side restlessly.
Sleep kept eluding her, the emotions of the day still thrumming through her vividly. The echo of the fear from the market mixed with the overwhelming relief later, clashing repeatedly as her thoughts kept circling to the whole thing, and she threw a hand over her eyes, willing herself calm.
The quiet knock near-startled her, muscles locking momentarily with the sound. And then she sucked in a breath, scrambling out of her bed almost clumsily upon recognising the warm chakra imprint on the other side. She didn't bother with the lights, half-wrenching the door open in her rush instead, and her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of him, the calm smile and the quiet apology in his merry eyes.
"Hey." he said softly, quietly, tilting his head to one side in the manner she so loved. "I know it's quite late, but… I did promise I'd let you know as soon as I'm back."
He really was still in his shinobi uniform, his travels reflected in the dust on his face, the smudges at his jaw and his hair tousled and tangled from the trip, and her heart gave a squeeze as she realised that he had come to her first. She might have japed in most any other case, but she didn't have it in her, not after being chafed raw by the commotion of the day. A smothered sound of relief rose up her throat instead and she bit her lip against it, fixing him with a fervent look.
"Minato…"
His name came out like a sigh, a near-whisper, steeped in relief. For a second she recalled a similar moment, another time when she had worried for him, right after the events at the underground base. How much she had wanted to touch him then, to make sure he was unhurt, safe and real before her.
This time she didn't hesitate as she stepped forward; she had but a moment to glimpse his faltering smile and the spark of worry in his look, before she buried her face in his chest. And then his arms were about her, a steady anchor, pressing her closer.
"Kushina… Is everything alright?" he murmured, his lips brushing against her hair, his one hand tucking a lock behind her ear gently.
"It is now, ya know." she said, breathing in the very scent of him, revelling in his warmth.
"Well then… I'm home."
"Welcome home."
It was something she may have said if they lived together and they didn't, but… she felt a sense of rightness with it, as if each word had a weight that rooted and steadied them both. And she could swear his hold tightened with the words, his lips pressing against her hairline wordlessly. She didn't know how long they stayed like this until she finally exhaled, taking a modest step back.
"Thank you. For coming here first, ya know."
His smile had returned, along with the hints of apology now dancing in his look.
"I did promise… I hope I didn't wake you, I didn't mean to intrude…" he said, one hand shooting up to rub the back of his neck as he often did in bouts of nervousness.
Kushina rolled her eyes.
"Don't be ridiculous."
She reached out, lacing fingers through his own, pulling him in her apartment, and he followed uncertainly, as if still unsure whether it was okay, which was somehow so very Minato that she could have laughed. And then he was slipping out of his sandals, pushing the door closed behind him with one hand, his other still entwined with hers, and she had somehow stopped just before him in the small entryway of her home; and instead of switching a light on, her hands found his collar, pulling him down in the darkness about.
Her lips met his and Minato sighed in their kiss, drawing her into him. His fingers came up to trace her cheek and the curve of her neck, trailing heat in their wake. His touch always ignited her so, waking fire flowers in her skin, stealing her breath; she rose to her toes, deepening their kiss, hands curling in his hair. And if there was an edge of desperation to it all, she didn't care, not this night. All that she knew was that mere hours earlier, for a terrible moment of time she had thought the unthinkable, and now he was here and it wasn't a matter of want anymore, but of need.
She could feel the same blazing need spiking through him as he pulled her impossibly closer, one hand lost in her tresses, the other trailing to the small of her back, clutching at her loose pyjama top before his fingers ventured below the hem, feathering lightly across her skin, tracing the dimples at the small of her back. She gasped, a fluttering, breathy sound making its way past her lips and Minato broke their kiss momentarily, breath coming out fast and shallow, much like her own.
"I-" he started before swallowing thickly past a dry throat, "I think I'll do my best to complete missions extra quick in the future."
She couldn't help her breathless laugh with his words.
"You better. I am trying my best to be very convincing, ya know."
"Mmm… It's most effective." he murmured, leaning his forehead against hers, one finger tracing a pattern against her back "Kushina…"
And the way he said her name – almost reverently, as if uttering something immeasurably precious – brought a surge of emotion that lodged in her throat.
"Yes." she whispered, swallowing thickly. A brilliant ache had spilled in her chest, stealing her words, "I… I'm sorry for attacking you like this, you're probably tired from your mission, ya know, I-"
He kissed her again, a brief, sweet thing, silencing her ramble.
"Who's being ridiculous now?" he murmured, fingers twirling a lock of her hair beside her neck.
And it was almost too much, the tenderness in his look, eyes seeming brilliant blue even in the dim moonlight from her window, and the soft smile tucked in the corners of his lips. Kushina sighed, leaning into him, wrapping her arms around him mutely once again, and she could feel him rest his back against the wall as he held her, chin propped over her head.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He'd known, from the moment he had seen her harried relief at the threshold, but he hadn't pushed. He was nothing if not patient, this man that she loved.
She swallowed, stilling in his hands.
"I thought you… I overheard… People were talking about a great war hero who died in the last attack."
A gust of wind rustled the trees outside again, her open window creaking slightly in response.
He sighed.
"Dan Kato?"
"You know?"
"I heard. There was talk at the front, one of the lines was hit harder than the rest."
She nodded, tucking the information away for later. She would ask about everything that had happened. But not now.
"Tsunade-san must be devastated."
A nod again and silence fell, broken only by the crickets outside. And then his quiet words.
"You thought it was me."
"I… I know it was stupid, but... I wasn't thinking, I-" she started, words dying out in her throat.
Of course she knew now that it had been silly to assume; everyone knew Konoha's Yellow Flash, if something had happened to him they would have used the moniker, not speak namelessly. But all such logic had been absent then, the wisps of panic erasing all thought.
He was already shaking his head.
"Not at all." He whispered, arms tightening about her momentarily, "I know the feeling. It's terrifying."
His one hand traced down to her right leg gently with his words, fingers brushing ever-so-slightly over the light scar of her healed cut – where the Iwa Commander had slashed into her leg as he cut her kunai pouch away, forcing Minato to watch as he held a blade at her throat.
"There was this… And… You asked me once what that genjutsu was, the one they used on me in the Iwa prison." he said, voice tight. "I lost you too many times then."
She had to suppress a shudder, remembering the agonised fear in his look back then, much as her own from today. It all seemed distant somehow, insignificant now that he was here, with her.
"Oh? Is it payback then?" she said, aiming for a lighter tone as she pulled back to look up at him, just in time to see the shadows dissipate from his look, a chuckle reverberating in his throat.
"Well… It is my fault really, I should have done this sooner."
"Done what, ya know?"
Instead of answering he gently disentangled from her, taking a step into her room, rolling his sleeve as he went and she followed him curiously.
The slightest surge of chakra, a tap at his wrist and he activated his storage seal, bringing forth… seals? Confusion sparked through her, eyeing the document adorned with a seal, a document that seemed to be red, of all colours- And then he turned to her, paper held loosely between his fingers, a calm smile spilled on his face, and oh, oh-
She already knew, even before he waved a one-handed seal with his left and the paper started folding in a familiar way.
Her throat constricted, heart lurching in her chest.
The cherry blossom origami was much the same, beautiful in all it meant, thrumming with the warmth of his chakra; but there was something new, a delicate pattern of a Hiraishin seal nestled amongst its petals and she smiled, tracing it with a look. And, just as he had done all those years ago, Minato leaned forward gently, tucking it behind her ear. Only this time his touch lingered, tracing her cheekbone lightly with a finger.
"Not leaving, remember?" he said mildly and she bit her lip against the surge of emotion that rooted her.
And the words that came up to her throat felt woefully inadequate, just as they had back then, but it was all she could manage, trying to imbed in them how much it had meant then, and still did now. And how much it would always mean.
"Thank you."
AN: Welp, I hope you enjoyed despite all the terrible things happening all around. I hope the ending made up for it at least! Especially having in mind what would take place in the next one…
Notes on the text:
1. So many people asked about the origami – of course they would come back! They make a pretty big part of it I suppose and I do have one important plot point revolving around them that I still haven't explored. So worry not, they're here to stay!
2. "I'm home" and "Welcome Home" are direct translation of the adorable Japanese tradition of welcoming a loved person back when they return with the exchange of "Tadaima" and "Okaeri"
3. I thought the moment when Sakumo's team, the ones he saved with his choice, turned against him, was a vital one and important to explore. And I figured… it would be that much more significant if one of those people was his student. I hope I did it justice.
4. As you've seen in this chapter already, I am going to play around the well-known Japanese theme of "honour" for a bit – after all… you know how it ended for Sakumo.
5. Hemophobia is quite terrifying, but I think it's particularly challenging to tackle when it occurs as a result of trauma. I hope the whole thing doesn't feel too jarring and implausible.
6. I made the Grey Shinto Order up, don't try to find them – I keep messing around with world-building, because, hey, someone's got to take care of all the men lost at war, right?
Do let me know if anything feels off, I'm trying to be accurate and respectful when handling topics that are so very charged for some people; I'd like to do them justice and have them feel real, at least, to a point.
As always – thank you for reading and for your kind words, your support means the world! I'm glad everyone seems to enjoy the world-building tidbits… I am quite fond of the idea and I do enjoy writing them, I'm glad they are fun to read as well! As always, your comments are very welcome!
Glossary:
Yokai: A class of supernatural monsters and spirits in Japanese folklore.
Shinto: A religion which originated in Japan. Shinto is polytheistic and revolves around the kami ("gods" or "spirits"), supernatural entities believed to inhabit all things.