The World in the Eyes of Minato
Summary: The day Minato's world is turned upside down is the day he realizes Machiko is pretty. This seems to be concerning to no-one but himself.
Lately, Minato had noticed that their training grounds had been getting busier.
Honestly, he should have noticed it earlier, but in his defense, it was a busy time of year. His sensei could seem lackadaisical, but he was a relentless taskmaster, and kept them to a strict training schedule. Any brief curiosity Minato had regarding their appearances was driven from his mind in lieu of work.
Besides, it was a gradual thing. A few extra shinobi that lingered even while their teammates dispersed. Some people taking casual strolls nearby, though what beauty one could find in kunai riddled logs, he couldn't say.
Sometimes, he even recognized them. A very nice shinobi who lived near him and had a fondness for sweet and sour pork. A stoic man he was almost certain was ANBU, not that he would ever be able to know for certain. The Hyūga twins, as stern faced and cool eyed as ever, indistinguishable from each other but for the fact that Hiashi always wore his forehead protector, and Hizashi always wore his forehead protector but was somehow angrier about it.
By themselves, these were not particularly odd events. They were not all at once, nor did they all seem to know each other, like it was some grand party that Minato was not privy too.
But day by day, he began to notice. There was a disquiet in the air, a sense of expectation. He had the unsettling feeling that some great revelation was just beyond his reach. Groping blindly for whatever missing piece of the puzzle he needed, he realized it was the fact that over the last few months, this particular training ground went from secluded to semi-trafficked. What was once a deserted area at the far reaches of the village seemed to have become a hotspot for shinobi around their age—and some civilians as well—and he was at loss as to why.
"Sure are a lot of people here." He ventures one crisp afternoon—half attempted diversion to his opponent, half genuine curiosity.
Jiraiya casts a sideways glance at one of the casually dawdling shinobi, idly parrying the kunai Minato flings at him in response to the split second distraction.
"Ah, young love…" He sighs, faux-wistfully.
At that, Minato stumbles, and were it not for Jiraiya's quick reflexes, would have sent himself face first into the dust of the training ground. As it is, he is yanked back by the collar, giving him the feeling of a kitten hauled out of mischief by the scruff of its neck.
"Careful." Jiraiya clucks, but Minato is too busy reeling from that mental sucker punch to really take stock of anything.
"Love? What love?" The question bursts out of Minato faster and louder than he'd like. And at a significantly higher pitch, to be completely honest. Jiraiya looks more amused than anything.
"Take a wild guess who they're here for." He says, waving an expansive arm at the congregating mass of people who idly sit by.
Minato blinks and returns his gaze to Jiraiya, who is smiling at him expectantly.
"You?" Minato asks tentatively.
Jiraiya throws back his head and laughs so loudly and for so long that the nearest shinobi gives them a backward glance and pointedly moves several paces farther away.
"Me!" He wheezes, slapping Minato on the back so hard that he stumbles.
"You flatter an old geezer, Minato. I wish I had this many suitors, make Tsunade see what she's missing, eh?" He winks roguishly, but the only feeling Minato can conjure is extreme bafflement. Seeing this, his smile softens—though it maintains a mischievous edge.
"Innocent summer child." He sighs theatrically, ruffling his hair. Minato bats his hand away, tamping down the urge to point out he was born in winter.
Machiko and Shibi make their way toward them, engaged in avid talk, and the sense of expectation increases—Minato sees the ninja straighten, one even brush nonexistent dust out of their clothes. He frowns and squints harder at his teammates, searching for a reason for this intentness.
"What, Minato, never seen a pretty girl before?" His sensei's words are teasing, and it takes a moment to register what he said, and more importantly what they mean.
And suddenly, the world seems to tilt on its axis, and Minato's brain promptly breaks.
They're all here, he thinks hysterically to himself, for Machiko? Because she's pretty?
That's ridiculous. That's beyond ridiculous. But he can think of no alternate explanation. "So that shinobi over there…." It's a wonder he manages to get the strangled words out, but Jiraiya seems to understand his meaning, even whispered.
"Daijirō? Yeah. Nice guy." As if that mattered to Minato right now. "The ANBU man? The one who never smiles?" He continues to prod, alarm growing.
"Still haven't figured out if he's ANBU. Hasn't admitted to it yet, but I'll get him to crack eventually. I've been told I'm very annoying." Jiraiya says thoughtfully.
"But yeah, also him."
"The Hyūga twins?" Jiraiya nods.
There's a pause as Minato tries to wrap his head around that.
"Both of them?"
"Yep. Though honestly, considering they're practically identical in personality and temperament, I don't see why she has to choose. If she was into it, could work out for her." Jiraiya says nonchalantly, scratching at his chin idly.
"Sensei!" Minato shrieks, feeling like he's—what was the expression Machiko used?
Right, clutching at his pearls. That was what he was doing. Vehemently, in fact.
"Only saying. Anyway, zip it, here they come."
"Minato, Sensei." Machiko greets them cheerily, Shibi an austere shadow at her side.
"The Hyūga twins invited me to check out their training compound—"
An undignified squeak comes from Minato at that. He distantly hears Jiraiya sigh and mutter boys, but his mind is too preoccupied with going back the last several months and casting things he once thought commonplace in a mortifying light. Machiko's countless invitations to this or that training compound, or sudden flurry of invitations to dinner. Her spontaneous collection of pretty trinkets and collectibles. The flowers that now covered every inch of available space in her house—
Sensei gently knocks his shoulder, and Minato realizes they were all looking at him. He flushes, and mumbles something about being tired. Machiko takes it in stride.
"Anyone want some lunch at my house?"
"Absolutely." Jiraiya said eagerly, never one to pass up Machiko's excellent cooking.
(Nor was Minato, for that matter, but his sensei had brought up deeply concerning notes that warranted further study. Preferably away from his sensei's sly insinuations and not particularly sly winks. )
"I need to talk to Shibi" He blurts out loudly, grabbing the other boy by the arm.
"O-kay. Is everything—"
"It's important boy stuff we'll see you later bye" He wheezes out in one breath, and hastily departs, dragging Shibi along by his side.
—-
Minato can admire Shibi's self restraint. The boy pointedly doesn't say anything until they're seated in the restaurant, and the waitress had come by with menus and promises of tea.
"Hey." Shibi finally says, after carefully moving his napkin to the side.
"So, what the fuck was that."
"Sorry, sorry. I panicked, I just realized–" He looks around, and lowers his voice.
"How long has Machiko been pretty?" He whispers.
Shibi gives him a very long look over his menu, the kind that says I am doubting your sanity and my friendship with you. The only sound is that of the neighboring tables.
"She's always been pretty, Minato." Shibi says, with a kind of long suffering patience that makes Minato bristle because he's only asked one question and it was perfectly reasonable, thank you very much. And that didn't answer his question.
"Yes, but how long have you known?" Minato asks desperately, running his fingers through his hair.
Shibi raises an eyebrow. Or maybe he just looks at him. Minato can't tell with the goggles.
"Since I met her?"
"But how?" Minato half wails, half whispers, unable to understand.
"Minato." Shibi says finally, neatly folding up his menu and placing it to the side.
"I have known Machiko was pretty since the moment I met her." The waitress hurries over, and Shibi briefly turns his attention to her.
"I'd like the roasted eel rice bowl, please, with extra sauce on the side. He'll have the stir fry noodles with prawn and pork, with a side of green beans."
Minato considers protesting this, but that was what he was going to get, and he has more pressing matters, so he says nothing as the waitress places down two hot teas and whisks away their menu.
Shibi returns his inscrutable gaze to Minato, steepling his fingers together gently.
"Did you think she was ugly up until ten minutes ago?" His tone is neutral, with a hint of curiosity, but Minato bristles in defense of Machiko all the same.
"No, of course not!" Minato says hotly.
"I didn't think she was ugly, she just—just wasn't pretty. She's just her. And apparently there are like four people who are—"
"There are more than four people interested in her."
"Who?" Minato demands so loudly that the neighboring tables glance over. He sheepishly studies his glass of water until they return to their conversation. When he looks up again, Shibi is eyeing him carefully.
"….You are taking this rather hard." Shibi says, seemingly as delicate as he can manage.
"Are you sure this is a good—"
"Yes, I promise. Please just tell me." Minato says, affecting as cool and composed a tone as he can.
His teammate really looks like he doesn't believe him, but only lets out a soft sigh and leans back in his chair.
"Nawaki." Shibi offers. And, okay, that one makes sense. That's on him.
"Please tell me more." Shibi imperceptibly nods, and continues.
"—The Hyūga twins.—"
"Jiraiya already told me that." Minato mumbles—a poor consolation prize.
"Then I'm sure he's already informed you of his "two birds one stone" policy regarding it."
"Don't remind me"
—-
"—then there's Ino-Shika-Chou-"
Minato looks up from his steaming noodles.
"What, all of them?"
Shibi drizzles a bit of sauce on his rice, deftly placing a small chunk in his mouth.
"I have been told they have a non-aggression agreement and a promise to wingman for each other. Seems counter intuitive, but I suppose the harmony of their team overrides romantic concerns."
—-
"Tsume?" Minato asks, not as surprised as he thought he'd be.
"Has loudly stated on numerous occasions that she will respect Machiko's choice in the matter, but will maul anyone who dares treat her badly."
Minato considers that for a moment.
"You know, that's fair."
"Maito Dai?" Minato asks, openmouthed. The bite of prawn dangles from his chopsticks, forgotten in his shock.
"I think that one is more of a respectful appreciation than anything, but yes."
Several cups of tea and seventeen names later, Minato is feeling rather light headed.
"What about Mikoto? Is it the same thing?" He asks weakly, grasping for straws.
"I would assume some might be." Shibi says, unruffled by the sudden pivot.
"But Mikoto is engaged, which certainly would deter all but the most fervent suitors. Besides that, Machiko is more in the public sphere than Mikoto is, and has less restrictions placed on her, as younger child. Besides that, she is more….unfettered in her affections, as I know you know."
"Ah." Minato chases the scant noodles at the bottom of the bowl with his chopsticks morosely.
"I guess that makes sense."
"I think perhaps Fugaku might have, before he became close with Mikoto—"
"Do not finish that sentence." Minato begs of him.
"Please Shibi, this is weird enough. Don't you think this is weird?"
"It is natural." Shibi says with a shrug.
"We are getting to the age where people start getting married, and—"
Whatever tea Minato had managed to get down seems to come hurtling through his nose at that remark, leaving him red faced and coughing loudly.
Shibi's left chopstick splinters as he leans back—the only trace of surprise that Minato can guess at. Shibi frowns at it, then at him.
"You made me break my chopstick." He says, more mournful than accusatory as he reaches for another pair.
"Shibi, what do you mean married?" Minato gasps out, wiping his burning nose and face with a napkin.
"We are shinobi." Shibi says blandly.
"Our lifespans are significantly shorter than that of civilians. There is likely less time for us to do those things, but those with special justu have added pressure to marry and have heirs."
Minato had not been born to a shinobi family, so he sometimes found himself at loss to their traditions, but that made sense, even though it was in an incredibly depressing way.
But still—marriage? At their age? It sounded overwhelming.
"Well." Minato says, grasping for a coherent thought amid the jumbled mess of his mind. "Seems like we're the only two ones in Konoha who don't want to date her."
Shibi doesn't say anything for an awkwardly long period, only clears his throat and breaks apart his chopsticks silently, and Minato's hope folds in on itself.
"Oh, come on!"
—-
"Minato!" Jiraiya greets him cheerfully as he eagerly tucks into spare ribs, fried eggplant, and beansprouts—probably Machiko's handiwork, judging by his voracious appetite regarding it.
"Have fun talking to Shibi about your important boy stuff?" He punctuates the sentence with a waggle of his eyebrows, to which Minato glares.
"I hate you." Minato informs him pointedly, sitting down and sending a sharp glance his way.
"Part of growing up, kid." He says, not sounding very hurt at all as he pops a chunk of fried eggplant into his mouth and chews.
"Realizing things aren't as they always were. You aren't a kid anymore, and neither is she."
"It's wrong. And weird." Minato complains. And I want it to stop, is the unsaid ending, that his sensei seems to pick up on. He raises one white eyebrow.
"I very much hope you're not planning on telling them to back off." He warns, for the first time in the conversation sounding truly serious, so much so that Minato instinctively straightens upon hearing what he terms "Sensei Voice".
"She's an adult, and it's not your right to be making those decisions for her."
"I know that. I would never." Minato says mulishly, but with no real heat to it.
"Good." Jiraiya gives him a long sideways glance, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve before glancing away. An uncomfortable silence falls, and Minato curses himself for it.
It's a sore spot for his teacher, as much as he tried to hide it with quips about broken hearts. Minato suspected even Tsunade herself didn't realize just how serious Jiraiya was about loving her. And if his sensei had his way, she never would.
"Does it hurt?" Minato asks impulsively. He reddens and ducks his head, but Jiraiya seems to take no offense to his question.
"Yes." He says quietly, needing no clarification as to what it is.
"But I've made my peace with that. If I'm not going to tell her how I feel, I have no right to feel angry when she finds someone who makes her happy." He chuckles lowly. "Well, I don't have that right even if I did tell her, but that's love, kid. The wisest man in the world is made a fool of by it. And I get having a crush on someone can be hard–"
"I-what? No! No, I don't have a crush on her" Minato splutters, jumping up as if he had been burned.
Both eyebrows shoot up, as if surprised by Minato's vehemence.
"It's not embarrassing to admit it, you know. As you've found out today, you'd be far from the only one." As if that's what Minato's problem is. He wants to laugh hysterically, or cry. Or both. Both works.
"As long as you don't make her uncomfortable—"
"What about me being uncomfortable?" Minato wails.
"What?" His sensei sounds absolutely baffled, with an undercurrent of worry.
"Minato, I'll admit, I thought all of this was a little funny, but now I am genuinely concerned—"
"I don't know what's going on, and I don't like it!" Minato yells as he stands up and hastily flees. Again.
"What do you do when a girl is pretty?" Minato asks his mother when he gets home. The mud of the streets clings to his sandals and the hem of his trousers, soaking through, and now, sweaty and tired, he is no nearer a revelation than he was this morning.
His mother pauses mid stir of something spicy-smelling, then beckons him over to the table. When he slouches down in his seat, she sits across from him, smiling gently.
"I understand, honey. You're at that age, where you start noticing and liking girls, and they start noticing you and liking you back. It's a completely natural—"
"I'm not—I don't want to date her! I just want to know what to do! I know she must be pretty, but I don't know why she is." Minato says frantically, desperate to make his mother understand.
There's another long moment of silence. Minato is getting real sick of those.
"Let me see if I get this straight." His mother said finally, linking her fingers and resting her chin on her hands. Her tone is carefully measured.
"You want to know what to do if a girl is pretty."
"Yes."
"But." She continues, speaking slowly as if Minato had hit his head.
"You don't want to date her. You just want to know why she's pretty."
"No." Minato said empathetically. He had grown up with Machiko. She was practically his sister, and if he had a sister dating her would obviously be wrong and bad, so dating Machiko? Double wrong and bad.
Thankfully, she at least appears to take the question seriously, humming in thought and drumming her fingers on the wooden table.
"What do you want to know, Minato?"
"I don't know how to say it" Minato admits.
"You'll have time to figure it out." The smile makes his mother's eyes crinkle.
"Dinner will be ready soon, why don't you wash up."
—-
Sitting on the narrow porch, belly comfortably full, Minato examines his day. He feels a little better, perhaps, but no less confused.
Think about this logically, he told himself.
What did he think was beautiful? Kushina was the first person to come to mind, of course.
He knew Kushina was lovely. How could he not? Her gorgeous red hair, that fell around her face in a shining blaze of glory. Her eyes, a rich violet color, and the way they lit up when she smiled—anyone who couldn't see that was an absolute fool. Her voice, warm and bright, but commanding and confident.
He had, on a purely aesthetic level, also known that Mikoto was pretty. Certainly different than Kushina. Mikoto was moon dark where Kushina was fire bright, porcelain skin and hair black as a ravens' wing, with deep, dark eyes. But pretty nonetheless.
Machiko wasn't the blazing beauty Kushina was, nor as regally, almost coldly beautiful as her sister.
Individually of each other, perhaps, he could objectively consider her features lovely. Long hair, just as raven dark as her sister, but in crashing waves and curls rather than like a waterfall of silk. Sun-warmed skin, lean and corded with muscle. The way she moved–like a dance more than a walk. The way her laugh sounded, clear as a bell and as warm as summer.
But put them together, and he was unable to understand just how this had happened. He had known all of these things before, so why was it only today that this revelation had come crashing down on him?
He groans, closing his eyes and burying his face in his hands.
He knows he's being stupid. He doesn't know why this unsettles him so much.
Well, no. He does know why. She was his friend, his confidante. The idea that he hadn't noticed something like this concerned him more than he could say.
It's not that he didn't love Machiko, of course he did. He had known her so long, been through so much with her. But if she had changed so much without him ever really seeing that, what else of her had he missed?
He doesn't know how long he sits there, head in his hands and lost in thought, before a warm voice whispers at his ear.
"You look like an Uchiha with all that brooding."
Machiko tsks from where she perches on the, although her gaze is still warm with good humor.
"You're supposed to be a ninja." She chides, though there is no real heat to it.
"What's got you so distracted today?"
"What makes you think anything's wrong?" Minato tries—an embarrassingly weak response.
She raises a slender eyebrow, as if to say really? That's what you're going with?
"Boy stuff?" She parrots at him.
"First you act super weird, then sensei said you weren't going to be at afternoon training, and now you're here, looking like you're having a mid-life crisis." "I'm not old enough to have a mid-life crisis." Minato mumbles.
"Can't know when you're gonna die, so gotta just always have a crisis." Her cheerful rejoinder is accompanied by her slipping off the bench, stretching herself over the railing idly. Her hair is so dark it's iridescent under the glow of the porch light, and as Minato joins her, she tilts her head toward the moon, the gesture rather cat-like. It soothes him that at least in this, she is the same as she's always been.
"People like you, and it's wrong!" Minato says, finally managing to find his voice.
"You're not pretty, you're- you're Machiko!"
She's silent for a long moment, and he half turns, a frantic apology on his lips when he realizes how that sounded. He didn't mean to hurt her feelings.
"Machiko, I didn't mean that—" He starts, but trails off at the look on her face.
There's a sparkle to her eyes, and a determinedly firm slant to her mouth.
Laughing. She's laughing at him.
"Stop laughing!" He says indignantly, which only makes her press her lips together tighter, as her shoulders begin to shake.
"I'm sorry, Minato." She wheezes, not sounding very sorry at all.
"But that's a very you problem. I think you're overthinking things."
"It's not that! I just—" Minato falters, and Machiko smiles idly.
"You've never thought of me as dateable because we grew up together, so the fact that people think I'm dateable now makes you confused because you don't know what you're missing that makes me dateable and I'm one of your closest friends so you feel guilty that you're not aware of this specific part of myself that you feel like you should have known about already." She says frankly, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrow at him pointedly.
Minato gapes at her.
"I—yes, exactly!" Minato finally stammers out, thoroughly astonished at his mess of emotions lain out so neatly in front of him. Although, he thinks ruefully, maybe he shouldn't be. Machiko was easygoing and gentle, but had long since proven herself to be keen and resourceful, with a great emotional intelligence, time and time again. It had never paid to underestimate her.
She keeps up her stern facade for a second longer, then throws her head back and laughs.
"You really don't have to worry, Minato, promise. You're too into Kushina to realize other girls exist."
He would have said something flustered in response to that, but his attention is drawn, and like a bolt of lightning, he knows exactly what he's not been seeing.
Life. Of course it is. He could have laughed in giddy understanding. She's full of life. Not that Kushina and Mikoto aren't, of course, but Machiko is on another level. She brims with vitality, and in every glance there seemed to blaze a thousand lifetimes.
And the best part is, Minato already knew that about her, just never connected it to her newfound admirers. He's not a bad (or unobservant) friend, and the thought brings a wide smile to his face.
"I've figured it out." He tells her triumphantly.
"Proud of you, sport." Despite the teasing tone, her eyes are soft. She threads her fingers through his hair, ruffling it gently. It is a ridiculous gesture from someone much shorter than himself, and he manages to get his voice back to tell her so.
"Good thing I'm ridiculous." She cheerily replies.
"You are." Minato agrees, feeling warm.
"But you're also not."
"I'm a woman of hidden depths." She says with a snort, and despite the humor of her words, Minato sees with perfect clarity the truth to them.
She was like a crystal clear lake—you thought you could see everything she was, everything she could be, but below, it went deeper then one could hope to delve without drowning.
She looks out onto Konoha.
"I should get back home. See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah." Minato says warmly.
"See you." As he turns, his attention is drawn by her voice.
"Hey, Minato?" She turns around, illuminated in the moonlight.
In the darkness, he sees her wink at him.
"Don't you go falling in love with me as well. I've got my hands full with both the Hyūga twins."
With that, she disappears in a blaze of blue and raven, leaving Minato burning faced and spluttering empathetic denials at the empty air she had left behind.
AN: Hi! How is everyone holding up? I've been staying at home like I sincerely hope the rest of you are doing, and I thought it would be a good time to start this, which has been brewing in the back of my mind for longer then probably reasonable.
I've always been a perfectionist, so looking back at my story, I wince. A lot. To be fair, I was a young middle schooler at the time xD. There are people who have commented and told me that they have loved this story over the years, and I want to let you know I have kept every follow, every favorite and every comment close to my heart, and it's for you guys that I introduce: Ignited: A Fireworks Rewrite.
So this story is going to follow roughly the same broad strokes, but it's not exactly the same story. I'd like to think that in the last couple of years I have matured as a writer, and I hope that this newer story will reflect that.
So the similarities are that it's written from the perspective of the people around Machiko, which I think can work out really well if I do it right. Machiko is less of a blank slate than she is in the original. The story, however, will be more mature, but not grimdark. She's not Machiko if she's not cracking pop culture jokes :).
Final Note (skip if you want to know NOTHING about Machiko's past life quite yet)
If any of ya'll are computer programmers/know how to code well, kindly let me pick your brain on this :/ I can either kind of spoil what I'm planning or be more discreet if you'd prefer that! And we can definitely discuss me writing something for you to pay you back because I know zip about computer programming and I've got a lot of questions.
ALSO, If any of you are Jewish (either religious or culturally, or both) and have the patience to discuss ideas for the future with an uneducated-but-trying non-Jewish writer about properly representing her characters faith in the story, please PM me! Bonus if you're Reformist Jewish! Same as above if I can do something for you!
(Spoiler END)
You can consider this extra-canonical—it doesn't fit exactly with what I'll be establishing with Ignited, but it's got a couple hints in there. It's more for fun than anything—it was written a bit back for NightlyRowanTree, who requested a romance-centric shot with everyone fighting over Machiko. It's not quite that, but hopefully it matches the spirit!
To EVERYONE: Please stay safe and social distance! We'll all get through this together.