02: Ivory
Minato woke up in a softly lit room, lying on a tall bed and with a terrible taste in his mouth. He felt like he had not slept at all – he was all drowsy and tired – and at the same time like he had slept too much. His blond hair was heavy and clumpy, sticking to his face, and his pyjamas sweaty. On top of that, his mind was hazy, like there was something making it difficult for him to think.
It took him a few minutes to get over his discomfort, but once he did, the three-year-old took a good look at the small room he was in. The white and wood-panelled walls were completely unfamiliar and the metallic, utilitarian furniture felt cold and uninviting. Even the slim view he had of tall buildings and narrow streets outside the window was strange. It looked nothing like home and that scared him more than anything.
The sudden rush of fear cleared the fog obscuring his thoughts and made him remember some of the last moments before he had passed out. There had been screaming coming from the street and his father had told him and his mother to stay inside while he went to see what was going on. But the door had been slammed open before he could get out and... and... then there had been pain.
That was all he could really remember. He thought that there might have been someone else there who had talked to him at some point, but the details were just out of reach.
He wondered if his parents were in this strange place too and threw off his covers to get out of bed. He would have gone out the door to find them if a searing pain spreading from his legs as soon as he tried to move them had not nearly caused him to faint again.
He cried out loud without realising it and the door was immediately thrust open from the outside. It was the same thing that had happened as when his father had tried to leave the house only for bad things to come in, and the parallels did not end there. A single man wearing black clothes and white armour and a short sword attached to his back stepped inside and walked over to him. Minato took one look at his face and panicked – he tried to crawl off the bed to put something between himself and that masked man, but not only did his legs hurt like a thousand needles were prodding him from the inside, they were strapped in place. Minato curled in on himself to get as far away from the man as he could and shut his eyes tightly, hoping the faceless demon would not hurt him.
It was not until then, until he had stopped his frantic movements, that he realised that the masked man knew his name and was trying to talk to him.
"Kid... Minato... relax, no one's going to hurt you," he was saying. The young blond lifted his head the strict minimum that would allow him to peek at the man and saw that he had taken his mask off and was looking a bit frightened himself.
Deciding to trust this stranger – his eyes were dark brown, almost black, so different from Minato's –, he straightened up and settled back on his bed.
"That's right, you don't need to be afraid," the man said almost gently and, in his youth, Minato did not catch how unaccustomed to producing the tone that voice was. The masked man's expression had also been replaced by a more collected one, faster than what would have been considered natural, now that Minato had calmed down. "You're in Konoha, do you know where that is?"
"Who are you?" the three-year-old asked in turn, disregarding the stranger's question and nervously eyeing the mask on his hands.
The ANBU, of course, noticed the direction of the stare and showed the painted animal face to the boy.
"You can call me Tiger. See? Because of the mask." The ninja pointed out the red stripes and the small triangular ears on the white mask and tried to pass it to the boy. It was obvious it was the source of his discomfort – whoever had attacked his village must have been wearing something similar, for the little blond to react so violently – so he thought that if the boy was allowed to handle the object and see for himself that it was harmless, it might ease his tension and fear.
Minato would have none of it, however, and recoiled from the mask that was presented to him as best as he could. The ANBU quickly took the hint and put it away.
"Mister Tiger, are my parents here?" the question came soon after.
They were not, the ANBU knew. Out of everyone who had lived in that village, Minato had been the only one to survive the attack – and there had been many moments when it seemed like the medics would lose him. Tsunade of the Three had done an admirable job stabilizing his condition to the point that he could be brought to Konoha, but his injuries had still been severe, especially for his underdeveloped three-year-old body.
As a ninja, death did not phase Tiger, but he could not give a ninja's answer to the little kid looking at him with such hopeful, clear eyes. Luckily, he did not have to.
His partner had left to fetch Tsunade when they had heard the boy's scream and now it seemed that they had returned. Tiger winked at him in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture and turned away from the door to hide his face as he put on his mask.
Minato was not happy about the mask's return, but he was even more aggravated by the arrival of the second ANBU. He looked pleadingly at Tiger, thinking that his friendly attitude had been nothing but a ruse and that now that the other members of his group were there they would do to him the same that... the same that had happened at his house before – whatever it was, all Minato knew was that it was very bad and he did not want to go through it again.
Tiger moved over to stand at the foot of the bed, strategically placing himself in front of the window while his partner covered the door – but all Minato knew was that he was in plain sight and at a distance that was sufficiently far away yet close enough to provide safety, so he was reassured.
Until the bed sheets flew up and blocked his sight. The youth turned to the side to see who had pulled them and found a pretty lady with two blonde pigtails looking over his legs with a disapproving frown. Before Minato could ask her a thing, she gave one of the straps that were tying him in place a firm pull. The action applied tension on his legs, ensuring that they were stretched to their fullest and immobile, but all the three-year-old cared about was that it hurt.
He cried out because of the pain, but that got him little sympathy from the pretty lady.
"If you don't want to do that a next time, stop trying to move your legs," she told him sternly. She did not say anything else for another moment, giving him time to get used to the new tug on his legs. When she saw Minato quietening down, she asked in a completely different tone: "how are you feeling, kid?"
"My legs hurt." His simple reply was met with a chuckle.
"I kind of figured that – they're broken. I'm Tsunade and I'm a medic. Do you have any headaches? Do you feel cold?"
Minato shook his head negatively and shot a glance at the second, silent, ANBU.
"Where are my parents?" the question rose up again. Tsunade's all business expression softened a degree before she replied.
"They're dead. You were the only one who made it out of the attack."
Tiger frowned slightly in disapproval, expression unseen behind his white, red-striped mask. For someone who used to have a little brother she adored, Tsunade sure was rubbish at dealing with children. Fortunately, Minato seemed to be taking the news well enough – at least until he overcame his shock, he was.
"Do you remember anything of what happened before you got here?" Tsunade asked.
Minato had gone very still, eyes fixed on some unseen point on the bedspread. It seemed to him like the slug summoner's question was coming from a very long distance away and he dazedly shook his head.
"Are you sure?" she insisted. "We found you buried under some rubble. Do you remember how that happened? Did you see someone attack your house?"
The little blond's head shot up and his wide blue eyes darted in the unknown ANBU's direction, but he did not say anything. It was all the confirmation Tiger needed, though.
The child had been unreasonably afraid of his mask from the moment he had laid eyes on it and now he had clearly looked at it when the attack was mentioned. There was little room for doubt, even if Minato did not consciously remember or did not want to talk about the event.
"Lady Tsunade," the ANBU smoothly intervened, "if I may?"
Tsunade stepped aside to give him room and watched as he produced a blank piece of paper and a pencil from his pouch. He drew something on it that Tsunade could not see because of the angle and showed it to the small blond.
"Have you ever seen this symbol before, Minato?"
If possible, Tiger was sure Minato's eyes would have widened further. The kid was reacting with similar agitation as the first time he had seen the ANBU masks. If Tsunade had not fastened the restraints on his legs, Tiger had no doubt that the kid would be struggling to escape this symbol as well.
"A man broke down the door and walked into the house. He had that on his neck!" the three-year-old shouted. The ANBU then turned his drawing towards Tsunade and his partner.
"Rock," Tsunade said it like the word left a foul taste that had to be spat out and, as if to prove how strong her revulsion was, even her killing intent flared for an instant. "Well, you just worry about getting better, ok, Minato? Whatever it was those bastards wanted from your village, they won't dare to come here. You're safe, do you understand?"
Minato nodded automatically, too surprised and afraid of the crazy lady's outburst to even consider denying her anything.
"You're in Konoha, now. Welcome to your new home, kid."
