A stray hair had come loose from her untidy bun, escaping the pin that held her tresses up. It was trailing her neck to lie over one shoulder, spilling auburn warmth down to her waist. With one impatient move Ryūmi swiped it away and returned to rinsing the dishes with enough force to peel paint off a wall.
She had been down to it for the last three hours and when she had run out of crockery to wash, she had claimed it was still dirty and started all over again. Hyōjin had sat quietly at the kitchen table behind her through the whole ordeal, occupying himself with the preparation of seals, stealing silent glances at his wife every now and then.
He had let her vent.
She had needed it. Anger, frustration, helplessness, worry and exasperation screamed in her silence, emotions spelling themselves in each sharp move and spoke of a desire, a need, to do something with herself, anything really, just to escape the storm inside.
So she would rinse. She would rinse until all the plates were clean and then rinse some more. She would rinse until the water ran ice cold and stabbed at her hands. She would rinse until her fingers went numb and wrinkled like a rotten fruit.
"Ryūmi."
He had given her time, yet no time could ever be enough, for either of them, to accept the probable loss of a second child.
She didn't answer him.
He didn't know when he had moved beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder, slowly, reverently, as if fearing she would break.
"Ryūmi. You cannot do this. You cannot lock yourself away."
A bang of hair was covering her face, a curtain to hide behind; a door to lock herself in.
"Talk to me."
A final clang and the woman put a plate down with too much force. It skidded down the counter and toppled over, falling on the polished floor with a crash, shattering completely. Something had broken in her, some band, which had kept her rationality intact, had snapped, and Ryūmi Uzumaki bowed under the weight of it all.
"Ryūmi-" he made to turn her around, to force her to face him, before she wrenched herself out of his grasp, peeling her gaze from the now-messy sink, fixing him with a burning look.
"Talk about what? About our kidnapped daughter? Talk about why she was kidnapped, about the demon in her? Talk about what happens to captives like her? About how she is… how she probably… she is already…" the tears had come unbidden, spilling silently down her cheeks as she rasped, her voice trembling with the fears she did not wish to voice. "Do you want me to talk of the second child I have lost in this cursed shinobi world? Of how you had promised me at our son's grave that you won't let Kushina be dragged into it and yet you, we, let her become a Jinchūriki not a year later? Do you want me to repeat your own words to you? The honour, the pride? What does honour mean when our daughter is dead or dying on the other side of the world? What does pride?"
She spat the words out as if they were a vile thing, filthy on her tongue.
"Do you want me to remind you how you coaxed an agreement out of me, how you promised this is a needed sacrifice to strengthen the bond between our villages? For Uzushiogakure's sake. For Konoha's sake. What is Konoha doing now, when my child's life is at risk? Where is Konoha when their Jinchūriki," and there was disgust in her voice, contempt coating the term as if it was an insult, "needs them most?" she paused, breathing heavily as a sob rose to her throat. "What do you want me to talk about?"
And then he was hugging her, her hands clutching the back of his yukata feverishly as she buried her face in his shoulder. The fabric drank her tears, muffling her sobs as she came to pieces in his arms and he could only hold her, feeling his own devastation take shape in tears he hadn't shed in years.
"I will find her." he vowed. "The Konoha infiltration team is leaving tomorrow and I am going with them. We will find her, Ryūmi. I will bring our daughter home."
"Do you think she's… well?" …alive, she had meant to say, but the words were probably stuck in her throat.
Shikaku sighed, not hurrying to answer the question that everyone had been meaning to ask ever since they gathered by the river, under the cherry-blossom trees.
The news had shaken them, but the Nara heir had never expected the swift retaliation.
Tsume, being the restless Inozuka that she was and having taken a liking to the red-haired girl, had suggested that her team do something to help retrieve her. Hiashi had mentioned it to his brother and Hizashi had informed his own team. From then on it had spread like wild-fire until a distressed Chouza had dragged him and Inoichi down by the riverside to an improvised meeting.
Or something to that effect, the chain of information being no significant interest of his – what mattered was the queer fact that all Konoha genins had gathered instantaneously on account of the disappearance of one girl, who was not even on any of their teams. In fact, everyone but Kushina's teammates seemed to be present.
Shikaku wondered if the same would have occurred if the girl hadn't gathered them in the very same spot not more than a week earlier. If she hadn't gone to absurd lengths to make them communicate and cooperate. If she hadn't effortlessly befriended them all as if they had been friends all of their lives.
He shook his head briefly, casting the thought aside – the 'if's were irrelevant. What mattered was that they had all gathered. Because one of their own was missing – a comrade; a friend – and they had no idea how to help. After the initial attempts to skirt the problem at hand, Yoshino had finally breached the dreaded question, which had been weighing on all of them.
"'Course she is! She's got balls bigger than all of those sissies here, I'll tell ya that much!" Tsume said through a grin, her brash language prompting a few disgusted looks.
"Tsume-san… This isn't a game, I think Kushina's in real danger…" Mikoto mumbled, twining fingers nervously.
"It can't be that bad, Mikoto! If they wanted her dead, they wouldn't have gone through the trouble of kidnapping her in the first place!" Inoichi piped in, an uncertain smile gracing his features and Tsume nodded firmly in consent.
Ironically enough, his comment had elicited more pained groans rather than sighs of relief.
"They will probably want ransom for her, or the exchange of political prisoners. It's a typical hostage situation." Hiashi said levelly, quiet voice betraying no emotions.
"I don't believe their only objective is obtaining ransom. That is because in typical hostage situations the enemies would leave information about the ransom requested, or would contact as soon as safety is provided. It has been more than three days." Shibi explained quietly.
Another sigh rolled out of Shikaku's lips from where he was lying down in the grass, observing the lazy clouds above.
"Then… why would they take her?"
"They could be waiting with their ransom demands in hopes of instilling panic. That would make their target susceptible to desperate decisions and more likely to agree to a higher price than usual." the Nara said, noticing out of the corner of his eye how most of them fixed him with an intent stare.
It was unnerving. And quite troublesome.
"But you don't think it's true." Hizashi said quietly and Shikaku sighed yet again.
He seemed to be doing that a lot today.
"No. I think they want something with her in particular." he said finally, pushing himself up in a sitting position. "Doesn't it strike you as odd how much stronger than us she always was? Talent is talent, but even at her best she seemed to be holding back. How many advanced techniques did she know? I mean, come on, she performed an excellent Genjutsu Release during her first day at the academy, even though we didn't know what it was back then. She was six years old. I still can't do that technique today and no offense, but neither do most of you, Hyūga twins excluded. And the way she looked at people… you've felt it too, haven't you?" he said, facing each of them in turn. "Like she knows you, without even actually knowing you. Like she truly sees you."
Silence greeted his words, the others shifting uncomfortably as they chewed on the information presented. Acknowledging what they already knew, but hadn't quite noticed in their own time.
"There's something different about her. I don't know what it is, but I bet it's at the root of this. Not for a ransom; not for an exchange – they want her for her." he concluded, a tired note entering his voice.
"So what are you saying then?" Yoshino picked up, voice raising a notch, "That they want to… like… dissect her?"
A muffled cry escaped Mikoto's lips as she lifted trembling hands to cover her mouth just as a noticeable shiver shook Mebuki at the unpleasant thought. Disgust was spelled in most faces, mixing with worry and fear. Even the stoic Hyūga twins now wore frowns, twisting uncomfortably in the ensuing silence.
"That, or they want to recruit her for Kumogakure." Hiashi added levelly and Shikaku wasn't certain which suggestion achieved a more negative reaction.
Tsume positively snarled.
"Bullshit. There's no way Kushina would betray Konoha! She would never join them willingly! And we'll get her out of there before they do anything else to her!"
Shikaku didn't note how doubtful he was that they would succeed. He didn't explain how low Kushina's chances of survival were. He didn't voice his suspicions regarding the true reason for Kushina's kidnapping and the beast locked within her that Kumo would hurry to obtain. He didn't tell them that Kushina getting recruited by Kumo was the least terrible out of several possible scenarios that were playing in his head. He didn't clarify that they wouldn't be going anywhere, because the infiltration mission depended on the small group of people moving through foreign territory without the permission of its Kage or its Daimyo – a infiltration team that had, in fact, already left earlier that day, explaining Minato's and Tora's absence.
He didn't tell them any of those things.
Instead, Shikaku simply sighed, staring at the clouds.
The door creaked as it opened and he cringed, expecting to have woken her up – it was quite late after all and she did seem exhausted when they met earlier. To his surprise, she was very much awake, curled up in a ball on her bed, chin resting on her knees as she regarded him briefly with an empty look. Her astonishingly-red hair was falling about her like a scarlet curtain – listlessly. It had lost its shine. Her skin was much too pale and colourless, her eyes sporting shadows underneath – she was tired, but she couldn't sleep.
She was likely afraid.
It wasn't only the fear, he concluded. No, there was something else, some different emotion playing in her look – those intent eyes that had burned so brightly when she lashed out earlier, were now dull and lifeless – defeated almost, as if someone had taken the light away from her.
He allowed himself the insolence to simply stand there for a while, observing her. She looked so fragile in that suspended moment of time – like a cornered animal almost – and he could hardly believe she was the same strong-willed person he had met in the corridor only two days prior.
He hated it. He hated her. She reminded him of himself years ago and oh, how much he had hated himself.
But then she turned to him and for the first time really looked at him and there she was, that vicious girl of some days ago, the same fire flashing through her eyes. There was steel behind that small frame. There was power in that haunted look.
He nodded once and hurried to the table, deciding that staring any longer would be too impolite even for him. He laid the tray with food carefully and turned to go at once, not wanting to impose – whatever was bothering her – and he had a pretty good guess at what it was – she needed to work it out on her own. His presence wouldn't help, which is why he had carefully avoided her those past few days. Finally, his curiously had gotten the best of him – she was like him after all, the first other Jinchūriki that he had met – and he had sneaked into the kitchens, grabbing a tray of fruits as an excuse to barge into her room.
Now he regretted it. That haunted look followed him as he stepped towards the door.
"What's your name?" came her clear, levelled voice.
There was no trace of the anger he remembered, or of the broken look she bore. She spoke with dignity, even in that state.
He turned towards her again, to regard her for some seconds longer before finally answering, hesitantly, as if acknowledging a moment of great importance.
"Fukai. What is yours?"
Just as he had done, she took her time observing him, searching for something in his look, before seemingly finding it and nodding briefly, finally opening her mouth.
"K-" she started, just as a sharp voice cut her off.
"Fukai. What are you doing here? I told you the prisoner is not to be visited."
With one last look at her, he turned towards the corridor where his uncle awaited at the room's threshold. A severe look had marred his features, arms crossed before his chest in obvious distaste.
"I was getting me some fruits, so I brought her some too. Forgive me, uncle." he said and hurried to walk away from here – from this peculiar girl and her peculiar eyes.
Little did Fukai know, that he wouldn't get the chance to hear that name again until many years later.
"From what I gathered, they are not in Kumogakure." Jiraiya said sternly, bending low over a map of the Lightning Country.
They were sitting in a loose circle around their camp fire, its flames providing the only light in the small opening they had chosen to spend the night. It was a new moon, skies unnervingly void of their usual brightness, causing a sense of unease to settle amongst their small group. Whether because of that, or because of the fact that they were nearing the Lightning Country border, Minato had grown more and more restless with each following step. By the time they stopped he was downright fidgety – a state people most commonly associated with his teammate Tora instead.
Ever since she had disappeared, it felt like he hadn't been himself. Where he had been calm and collected before, he was rushed and impatient now, a sudden urgency boiling below the surface and dictating his moves – a sense of unease had settled deep within, like a corrosive thought. He had become distracted as his thoughts constantly wandered towards his red-haired teammate, alternating between pained memories and terrifying forebodings.
There was her lively smile, merry laughter echoing in the back of his head before it turned to screams; before fear got the best of him and he saw behind closed eyelids her smile tarnished bloody, her eyes staring lifeless at the stars. He would jump then, shaking uncontrollably and panting heavy breaths; escaping yet another nightmare in which he was too late; in which she was already dead.
"She was brought directly to an island somewhere west off Kumo's coastline, presumably around here." Jiraiya was saying, pointing at the map and successfully dragging Minato away from his darkened thoughts. "It's not listed on any of the maps."
"How do you know?" Hyōjin-sama asked curtly, levelling the Sannin with a cold look.
"I have an informant with them, one of my own. He's travelling with the Raikage's team, for different reasons, but he's there. He notified us of her location when circumstances allowed."
The Uzumaki stared at Jiraiya for a tad bit longer before nodding once.
"Alright, that's great! So that Oji-san is like, some super secret ninja under cover, right? Can't he sneak Kushina out right away?" Tora asked excitedly, leaning forward like a child expecting a treat.
The red-haired man sighed, throwing an exasperated look at the dark-haired boy before frowning. His cold demeanour spoke enough of the man's opinion regarding Tora and Minato's presence during this mission – he saw them as drawbacks; liabilities that would drag them down.
He had tried to argue as much with the Hokage when the man had announced the team for the mission, but Team Jiraiya had argued too – Kushina was their teammate. They had as much right as anyone else to be present when rescuing her. Jiraiya's vote of confidence in his team's abilities had sealed the deal and Hyōjin had found himself forced to accept the Hokage's decision with little grace.
Accepting it did not necessitate liking it, however, and the man's cold eyes kept reminding them of that simple fact.
Jiraiya also sighed impatiently, fixing Tora with a disapproving look.
"Because he's not there for Kushina, brat. He's been undercover for a long period of time now, keeping an eye on a certain shinobi with something sealed inside. He's my top informant and the only one within Kumogakure's shinobi ranks. Acting alone would most likely ruin his cover and Konoha will be left blind, so act he won't unless absolutely necessary. We need him there, he needs to maintain low-profile. Even providing us with information in such strained circumstances is risk enough." The white-haired man added, throwing a quick glance at Hyōjin Uzumaki, as if trying to convey something more with that last sentence.
The red-haired man hmph-ed.
"But he did tell you she was fine, right? He said she was ok?" Tora pressed on, completely unfazed by what was being said.
The fire had started burning low, losing its warmth and Jiraiya quickly tossed a log from the pile gathered next to him, poking the embers with a long stick. Shadows danced over his face with every shift of the flames.
"He did, yes. That was three days ago. He knows nothing of the Raikage's plans, however. He doesn't know what will happen to her. If there are any other developments, he will contact us."
There was something he was missing, some vital information that he was not privy to and Minato could see it in the meaningful look Jiraiya and Hyōjin Uzumaki shared. He could see it in their strained postures and in their stern frowns. In the way their lips pulled downwards in a grimace and their jaws squared as if strained.
Minato was nothing if not observant, and he could read that much – they were hiding something. Something, which changed the situation; which made them fear for Kushina's life.
Three days were too much.
"But that's good, isn't it? That he hasn't contacted us. It must mean she's fine still, nothing new happened! And we'll be there real soon so it will be alright!" the dark-haired boy continued, a genuine grin now splitting his face. When no one answered he turned towards Minato, kicking a pebble at where he stood. "Right, Minato?"
He hesitated, eyes still searching for the answers Jiraiya-sensei kept so zealously in the folds of those grey eyes.
"Right…" he muttered finally, praying to all the Gods above that he wasn't lying. That they would get there in time.
"Alright, enough chitter-chatter now. Let's hit the sacks, I'll take first watch." Jiraiya said heavily, for some reason avoiding Minato's eyes entirely as he stood to roll out his sleeping bag. "Take some good rest, it might be the last night you're able to do so – from tomorrow onwards we're in enemy territory and I would expect you to be on high alert always, even when resting your eyes." A pause, the only sound being that of the fire crackling merrily beside him. "Let's go and bring our teammate back."
"I have conditions."
Steel your heart.
Her voice was even, void of emotion. Distant, as if she wasn't the one speaking; as if it was drifting from somewhere far away. She was numb inside. A strange feeling of detachment tingled on the surface, elevating her and weighing her down at the same time.
The Raikage frowned from where he was standing behind his desk, crossing sturdy arms before his chest.
She had come to recognise it as a signature move. He used it to convey displeasure; to enforce his mask of severity. He was putting up a show, ready to negotiate if her price was set too high. Ready to intimidate.
It didn't matter. He would agree. He wanted this too bad.
"And what may those conditions be?"
"I will not be charged with any missions against Konoha or Uzushiogakure."
The man's eyebrows rose as he pursed thick lips, chewing quietly on the icy request.
"The Land of Fire is currently the strongest shinobi nation. If push comes to shove, I will need every able-bodied shinobi to fight, a trained Jinchūriki especially. Wars are no easy deed, girl."
"Should there ever be a war between Kumo and Konoha, the rest of the nations will not stay impartial. I am willing to fight against them. I am willing to risk my life to protect this village. But I will not do it at the cost of my past comrades' lives. I will not spill their blood." she said impartially.
She was surprised how easy it was to keep a clear head. How securely she had locked all emotions. She was an empty shell. She was there and at the same time she wasn't. It was all happening so far away.
But it was vital, clarifying this. And she was ready to fight for it best she could, even if that involved dropping the mask of childhood entirely. Even if it involved pulling knowledge that she was in no way privy to. Even if she had to demonstrate unnatural determination and conviction of events that were about to pass.
This had to work. She was betting everything on it. She was giving everything up for it.
The Raikage leaned back in his chair, regarding her sternly, but she did not budge. There was a measured, calculative gleam in his eyes and Kushina could have sworn he was taken aback by the professional rationalism that he wouldn't have associated with children.
Finally, the man nodded once.
"Very well. I will not pitch you against Konoha and Uzushiogakure deliberately. However, I cannot promise that your platoon will never be attacked by them without our knowledge, in which case I would expect you to defend yourself and your comrades accordingly. Kill, don't kill, do what you please, but you will not endanger my men for your sentiments."
It was her time to nod her agreement, filing the information for further observations later on.
"Second, you will allow me to conduct individual research on a certain shinobi and you will provide me with any assistance required in finding him. And ending him."
Her words caught his attention this time, as he raised bushy eyebrows in confusion and, dare she say, piqued interest.
"And who is this man we are talking about?"
"I don't know."
He seemed to be trying to read something in her eyes, in the blank face that betrayed no emotions and he seemed to be failing, eyebrows mashing in distaste.
"Where does he come from?"
"I don't know."
The frustration seemed to be building up counter-proportionally to her lack of any reaction whatsoever. The Raikage was not known for his patience after all.
"Is there anything about your… target… that you do know?"
She hesitated for the briefest of seconds, before squaring his shoulders, deciding that if ever there was a more convenient situation that didn't involve the possibility of her ending up in a prison or an asylum, this would be it. She had long accepted that she simply did not know enough of her attacker and that finding him at this stage equalled to looking for a pin in a haystack. She couldn't do it alone. And she was running out of time. She needed this man's help.
"I have information on his plans. He is targeting me, or more specifically the Bijū that I host, and possibly the rest of them too. I don't know how he plans to use it, or them, but his plans do involve mass panic and destruction and your village is not excluded from the threat. Especially if you have the Kyūbi in your hands." she refused to say whether said nine-tailed beast would be in her possession or extracted painfully in search of a new host. They still had conditions to agree on after all. "I know he is very powerful, his abilities can easily be ranked at Kage-level, so believe me when I say this is no empty threat. This man is powerful and he needs to be stopped. I know his pattern of attack roughly. I know he has black hair and wears a dark cloak and an orange spiral mask with a single eye visible."
The Raikage's expression grew more and more incredulous with each following word, surprise mixing with scepticism in his eyes.
"By the sound of it this man is quite the threat, or so you claim. How come none of my informants or advisors have even mentioned the possibility of his attack?"
"Because he hasn't made his move yet, but he will soon enough. When he is ready and we are not. Which is why we need to act first. We need to find him." With that she paused, eyeing the man warily before continuing, tasting the words carefully in her mouth. "There is… more. It is very likely he is an Uchiha. He sports the sharingan in said visible eye."
That caught his interest, the man straightening in his seat. Very few were the Kages who wouldn't pay dearly for getting their hands on the Uchiha's precious dōjutsu and, as it just so happened, there sat a girl in front of him, offering him to hunt a Sharingan-bearer down and do whatever he found fit with him, so long as he died. The Raikage grumbled.
"It sounds as if your mystery man hails from a village you're familiar with, girl. Maybe they know more about his plans of universal destruction."
She hurried to shake her head, a frown spilling on her face.
"No. Konoha has nothing to do with this. They don't even know he exists. He operates alone and I believe he would target every single nation standing in his path, Land of Fire included."
The man's eyes narrowed. She knew what would follow even before he opened his mouth and she braced herself for the impact of it and the first lie she had to tell.
"And how come you know about him then?"
"The previous host of the Kyūbi informed me about him in detail."
Alright, partial lie, but still.
The Raikage's eyes narrowed.
"And why would Mito Uzumaki share this information with a… how old must you have been when the beast was sealed in you, five?"
"Seven."
"So why would Mito Uzumaki share this information with a seven-year-old rather than with the Hokage of the village she occupied? Or with Uzushiogakure's leaders for that matter?"
"Because she didn't trust them. Informing me was inevitable: I'm his target."
Kushina didn't think she could find a much more compelling reason than this. Mistrust in foreign leaders was a language that every Kage spoke, most intimately.
The Raikage sighed, leaning back in his chair.
"And… she gave you proof of this masked enemy's existence?"
She mimicked him, crossing her arms as well.
"Proof enough, ya know."
"You do know this sounds preposterous, I'm sure." he said heavily, lips pulled in a frown.
"Maybe. But what's the worst that can happen? I chase an imaginary man, no harm done. And if he does exist, you get a Sharingan-bearer on your hands."
The burly man tsk-ed, rubbing a massive hand at his beard.
"So be it. I will assist you in looking for this man if he's even real." he said finally, raspy voice deceptively even. "And it is in your best interest to not be plotting something against Kumogakure with this request."
"The one plotting something is the one we're targeting"
A grumble.
"We shall see. Any other… conditions?"
"Yes. One more." she said and pressed on stubbornly. "I believe this masked man will one day target Uzushiogakure in an attempt to wipe the clan proficient enough in dealing with Bijūs. Should that come to occur, you will send out troops to aid my home village and prevent its demise."
The man's teeth clenched together audibly as his face adopted an outraged grimace, veins standing out in his thick neck.
"Impossible." he grumbled. "My village will not be aiding its enemies for no good reason; there should be no compromise between shinobi, who have once tried to murder each other on the field. Ever since the forming of our nations every village has fought for themselves only and if the Uzumaki clan believe this can be different, let them wait for Konoha's help during an attack and see how that plays out."
A gulp. He had no idea how close to the problem at hand he had come. He couldn't possibly know that Konoha had once tried to help and failed to, leading to Uzu's ultimate demise. But they had been tricked into it; they had tried. Minato had almost given his life to protect her home.
This man was wrong, she knew it. But she also knew he would not see, not without knowing what she had seen and known a lifetime ago. And she would never tell him that, not to him, the one who would use her to destroy the ones she was trying to protect.
"Then I will not join you."
"Then you will die."
"Then you will be left without a host for the strongest Bijū imaginable and as such you will hardly find a new one anytime soon. I was the only compatible one in my villages for whole ten generations. How many of your children have proven apt to be Jinchūriki?" she paused, letting her words sink in, watching closely how shadows played in the opaque of the man's eyes and how he deliberately held his tongue. "Even that boy, your nephew – he's unstable isn't he? Why else would you keep him on this island, separated from everyone? I am stable. I know what I am doing. I can keep that beast at bay. And I can teach your nephew how to do the same with his. Kill me and you will lose us both."
A heavy pause followed, interrupted only by the sound of the man's deep steady breaths as the situation pieced and puzzled itself in his mind. She didn't know how much time had passed with him mulling over her words and her simply staring back daringly. Testing him. Challenging him.
Just as she thought the heavy silence was becoming too much, sneaking up her throat and choking her, he finally sighed, a note of resignation in his voice.
"I will not aid Uzushiogakure if they need us. The weak will be crushed, that is the inescapable rule of the shinobi world." he said and the girl froze momentarily in shock. "However, I can promise I will not aid their attackers and I will give you all the help you need to bring that masked man down before he initiates an attack on your home village. And should an attack come, you will be free to aid them as you please."
Ta-dup.
Her heart was hammering in her chest. Uzushiogakure had to survive, she would not lose them another time. This was vital. Vital. It was a part of the reason behind her decision to stay – she would have the freedom to find the masked man without suspicions on her person. She would be able to ensure more help, should Konoha fail to intervene again.
But the man had refused.
Could she compromise on this? It was vital. And he wanted this too much.
But so did she.
"You will not attack?" she rasped out quietly, defeated.
"I will not attack."
Finally, slowly, as if weary from old age, she nodded. A sense of finality had settled with her assent, as if she had just lost a piece of herself that she could never grasp again.
"If those are all of your conditions cleared then, what is your answer?"
A heavy feeling had settled in her chest, sneaking chilly fingers down her veins; a dull ache that thrummed distantly, like a detached memory which she observed from far away. Her eyes were stinging and her tongue felt laden in her mouth, thick and unresponsive as she licked dry lips, swallowing past the lump in her throat.
The words are like stones in my heart.
"I accept."
She grumbles through mock-annoyance as she battles with her hair. It's braided messily, with so many flowers in between – buttercups and asters, daisies and yellow dandelions and forget-me-nots, all twisted in her fiery locks. He looks at her and smiles, remembering how happy the children from their D-ranked mission had been, braiding her hair with all and any flower that they had at hand. How she had laughed with them and patted their heads with a wistful smile on her lips.
And now here he is, sitting calmly in the soft grass of their training field, relishing in the warm sunrays petting his face, listening to the calm songs of the spring birds and watching her with a fond look.
Always watching her, always marvelling.
She makes him smile and fills him with a sense of weightlessness. Her laughter pierces the silence, like the peal of a bell, as she tries to untangle the blossoms and ends up with her mane twisted about her like a scarlet web. It's beautiful, gleaming in the sun, like living flames around a fiery girl. He chuckles too – her happiness does that to him. It's infectious, like a bubble of bliss he'd like to hold in his hands.
"Here, let me help." he says and his fingers are brushing through her hair almost reverently as he plucks the small colourful blossoms and lays them by her side.
Her hair is so soft; it smells of cherry blossoms, their scent mixing with that of the flowers and hanging all around. It's beautiful and he loses himself in it, smile never leaving his face as he gently runs fingers through soft fire. As she starts humming a melody and the sweet tunes make him smile wider. As he sees her look up at him merrily, knowingly, those depthless eyes holding secrets as always, enthralling him, and he acts without thinking. His hand plucks a forget-me-not from her locks and hands it to her wordlessly. It has the same rich blue-violet colour as her eyes, like the darkening sky at night. She looks at it surprised and then at him apologetically.
In one swift move she's on her feet, backing away from him. The sun has set and it is dark all around. Only her hair shines brightly in the distance, ever so far away as she walks away from him and he makes to follow, but his feet are stumbling, tangled in gnarled roots.
"Wait!" he calls, but she does not hear him, disappearing into the distance in a single fiery spark.
The forget-me-not withers in his hand.
Minato jumped up rapidly, panting heavily and drenched in sweat from where he sat in his sleeping bag.
A dream. It had been a dream. But so much more at the same time – a sweet memory of a beautiful afternoon that had happened much too long ago before his fears had marred it, turning the cherished memory into a dreaded nightmare.
Had he really given her a forget-me-not? He couldn't remember. But she had been singing and he had smiled. She had been happy and peaceful and he had wished so strongly that it would last.
A groan escaped him as he pushed to his feet, refusing to dive back into disturbing dreams and memories. Unease had settled so thick in his stomach that he might have retched, had he eaten anything at all.
From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Hyōjin Uzumaki observing him quietly from where he was on watch. He ignored the man, heading to the nearby stream instead. It would soon lead them to the seaside and from then on to the island – by tomorrow evening they would be there. Finally, after a headlong run they would reach it. Finally, they would save her, she'd be home soon.
So why then did his chest constrict so painfully? Why did his throat feel raw?
The crash of the waterfall was deafening, thundering through the stillness of the morning and filling the air with a heavy mist that weighed in her lungs. Kushina eyed it critically, worry expanding with every passing second, eyes jumping from the rippling river surface on which she and the Raikage were standing, to the cascading cataract behind her, and to the loose circle of Kumogakure shinobi gathered all around.
Standing, watching. Waiting.
She had asked him what they were doing outside the building and where he was taking her. She had asked why they needed the guards after she had given her agreement to stay willingly. She had given her word. She had asked and asked again, but he had never answered, saying only that there was something they needed to do before she joined their ranks. Cryptic, as most any frustrating Kage could be.
Finally, she had resigned, following him quietly, nervously, watching for any sign of alarm. There was little she could do to stop him after all, even if she tried to resist – it would only get her in trouble and would probably cost her a broken rib. Or two. Or three.
And there they were now, standing motionlessly in front of the thunderous waterfall, the Raikage watching her with a steely look.
She gulped, beating down the feeling of panic that was rising inside her – the feeling that something was wrong, that she was in danger, that she should run. He had no reason to harm her – she had agreed hadn't she? Ending her would cause him to lose much more than he would gain. He had accepted her as one of his own and promised protection and he had been honest – she could see it in his eyes. She shouldn't fear him.
Why then did the tiny hairs on her arms rise as she met his look?
"You asked why we're here." he half-shouted, drowning out the boom of the falls. "We're here, because I have a condition too."
She gulped past a tight throat, willing herself to relax.
"A condition?" she asked and she hoped to God her voice had been as steady as she had tried to make it sound.
"Yes. There is something you must do for me first." he said and the twitch in his eyes was her only warning. "You must die."
The words echoed around her, as if hitting into a wall of confusion before registering, her eyes widening impossibly with alarm, but it was too late. He had already moved, like a lightning, faster than she would have thought possible for a man of his girth.
His hand slammed at her stomach, chakra gathering at his fingertips, burning her on the inside as she felt the force of the blow sending them both flying backwards towards the massive waterfall. Pain flared from her stomach and up to her chest as a furious roar filled her head, red chakra burning white-hot in her mindscape and she opened her mouth to scream, only to have it filled with water as she crashed through the falls.
A searing conviction registered somewhere in the back of her mind in that single moment of time: she was about to die.
And it hurt unbearably as she realized that she did not want to die. She did not want to abandon them, her friends who relied on her; the friends who laughed with her and fought with her and trusted her. She would have to leave behind the peaceful afternoons spent with her team and the mornings spent with her parents, the life spent at her home.
Above all she did not want to go without ever making a difference. She did not want to go.
In that one grain of timelessness she was weightless, a bundle of hopes and of dreams and of inexplicable loss.
And then it was all crashing in on itself as she felt herself falling through darkness, world spinning off its axis and shrinking around her before it all faded to black.
Numb. He was numb. Frozen in place, not daring to move, not daring to breathe. There was ice in his chest. Lead in his stomach. He couldn't piece out what was happening, the words jumped through his supposedly bright mind chaotically, like a distant echo might.
The stranger in front of them had donned a mask of grief and sorrow, not daring to look at them after having uttered the unthinkable.
Minato refused to grasp it. His whole being shied away from it.
"W-what?" Tora asked most eloquently, but he sounded so far, far away, as if a cocoon of icy blankets had wrapped around him, isolating all sound.
"She's dead." the man repeated and the pain flaring in Minato's chest felt as if someone had stabbed him with a jagged blade.
He shied away from it, too.
"Report." Someone on the side was saying after what felt as an immeasurably long moment of time and Minato vaguely recognized Jiraiya's broken voice.
"There was nothing I could do. The Raikage attacked her, hit her stomach with a chakra-infused blow of some sort and sent her crashing through a waterfall. Her chakra signature extinguished almost immediately after that." the man, who was still wearing a Kumogakure headband, was saying through a clinically detached voice.
"Are you sure?"
"I am a sensor, I'm as sure as I have ever been."
"What of the… body?"
"She… It floated up soon after that… I assume the current dragged it down before it resurfaced. The Raikage, he… he burned it almost immediately with a Katon technique." the spy was saying, but the words didn't register anymore, hitting off a barrier of numbness; a terrible chasm of apathy gaped before him, lulling him with a promise of not feeling the wave of pain that was pressing on the surface.
He dug his hands in the dirt beside him so hard that it hurt. When had he fallen to his knees?
Somewhere beside him he could hear Hyōjin Uzumaki argue with the man in a deceivingly polite voice. "No," he was saying "You are wrong." And he was stepping past him and heading for the coastline and Jiraiya was cursing and going after the man and Tora was breathing heavily as chakra seeped out of him in a torrent of shock and hate, tears streaming down his eyes uncontrollably. "How dare they?! How- I will kill them all, every single one of them!" the dark-haired boy snarled and he had jumped ahead also and the man was calling after him and none of it mattered, because she was dead.
She was dead and he would never see those shrewd eyes and that warm smile and that knowing look, he would never hear her laugh and drown in the scent of her hair and feel her warm touch and see her fiery locks dance in the sun.
Someone was kneeling in front of him and his mind was barely registering it, eyes staring past him at the setting sunset, mind screaming late, late, late.
The man was holding something, now laying it carefully in front of him, the only person left behind, and he recognised a metal gleam in the last rays of the sun, a familiar insignia imprinted so deeply in his memories that he would recognise it even when on the verge of death – Konoha's swirling leaf on a blackened forehead protector, the cloth it was attached to charred terribly and falling apart.
"This was all that I could salvage." the man said quietly before disappearing from sight.
He didn't even notice, eyes pinned on the burned relic of a precious person; a precious memory; a precious dream.
I am going to be Konoha's first female Hokage!
Just wait until I'm genin, I'm never taking that forehead protector off!
We should be on the same team, ne, Minato? How cool would that be, ya know?
No way, ya know! Not before me, I will be the Hokage!
A strangled sob reached him and it took him awhile to figure out that the sound was coming from him, tears streaming down his cheeks and falling soundlessly over the Konoha insignia laid at his knees. Trembling fingers reached for it and wrapped around the cool metal plate gingerly as the pain flared inside his chest hot and white and overwhelming, crashing over him like a tidal wave and he gave in to it with a final quiet sob.
It didn't matter – not the voices in the distance, not the shouts or the rumble, not the hands that shook him, not the tears or the broken words – it didn't matter anymore, because he had been too late and she was gone.
AN: *dodging flying daggers and various sharp objects* Sooo, how's it going guys? I assume I will get some hate here… or a lot, who knows? But I really hope I have not disappointed you terribly – let's just say this is a needed step for my plot to progress. Despite everything, I do hope you enjoyed!
I would love to hear your thoughts on what you read! If you have any questions, recommendations or observations, please feel free to share them; I promise I read every single one of them and will answer as soon as possible – they make my day!
Thank you for the time taken and I hope I see you soon with the next chapter!
Update from 2022 me: Alright, yes, I fully acknowledge I stopped writing at the worst possible time. How could I drop this story off here and disappear without a word? It was an act of evil and I accept full responsibility… but for what it's worth, I was going through a rough time. Long story short, I'm back now and I hope to make up for it with more content
Ja ne~
