Disclaimer: Naruto is the property of Masashi Kishimoto and TV Tokyo. Please support the official releases. (I don't own this).
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Chapter 4: The Nail that Sticks Out
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The price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings.
- Pittacus Lore, I Am Number Four
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He had been right, of course. His mind had been churning for hours. That Anko girl had come along a small time before sunrise to leer at him and hand him back the remains of his gear, before she'd vanished into the night and left him with his thoughts once again.
Pummelling his pillow, Minato turned onto his stomach.
Kakashi was dead. Obito was dead. Chances were his team had fallen into trouble while he had been "time-travelling" and they'd died because he hadn't been there to watch them. Minato was a shinobi and he knew that death on the frontlines was a risk that every ninja accepted as a possible outcome when they took their headbands on graduation from the academy, but his team was young. It had been his understanding that he'd protect them as best as he could until they became fine adults in their own right, but he had failed.
Kakashi had been his responsibility for years. From when he'd been assigned to take the boy on as an apprentice, to when he'd moved him into his house when Sakumo had killed himself and beyond, Kakashi had been someone who Minato should have been watching. No matter how much of a genius he had been. He had had much to learn, and he had even been beginning to thaw, but it hadn't saved him.
Obito. Minato would miss the boy grow into the potential he knew had been sitting in the depths of that spark. That heart- it wasn't common to see a heart like that in a shinobi. Many hardened ninja would look down on him for it, but that compassion, it shaped great men, great leaders. Obito would have been no exception, and now he was dead. And as an additional kick in the teeth, someone had pillaged his body and stolen the birthright he had probably only just awakened in the time after Minato had left them.
Rin was elsewhere, still alive at the least, though Minato doubted she'd want to see him. She must have moved on after all this time; she must have grown up and forgotten, or tried to forget all about them. Losing your first cell was never easy. Minato had experienced it himself. His own Sensei had drunk himself into a stupor when Minato had been the only one left. Rin had taken on a team of her own. Remembering the caring nature she'd always exhibited, Minato had no doubt she was a great Sensei.
And Kushina. Kushina and her smiles, her laughs, her jokes. Kushina and her red, red hair, almost as fiery as her temper itself at times.
Minato buried his face into the pillow beneath his head, body curling up under the sheets.
The staying quarters the Godaime Hokage had provided were simplistic in nature. A small kitchen and living space with a single room and adjoined bathroom. There was a lone empty bookcase in the bedroom, and the kitchen was empty of anything edible. He'd have to fix that soon.
The sun was beginning to filter through the shabby blinds by the window opposite his bed, and Minato burrowed more deeply under his covers.
-ObitoKakashiKushinaKyuubi-
Minato's eyes finally fluttered to a close.
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Nohara Rin watched her team stroll ahead of her. Reprising the number of the team she herself had been a part of, Team Seven consisted of Aburame Shino, heir to the Aburame clan, a clan famous throughout Konoha for their insect Jutsu, Inuzuka Kiba and his oversized white "puppy", Akamaru, and Haruno Sakura, a civilian-born shinobi.
At present, Shino was slightly behind his other teammates, keeping distance between himself and Sakura, who was waving her fists at Kiba, for another crass comment passing his lips, no doubt.
It was a frequently occurring event, one that bore familiarity with its repetition. Sometimes Rin believed her team bonded through their constant arguments- their personalities certainly clashed enough, but they always watched out for each-other; she expected no less.
The new Team Seven only loosely resembled her own Genin cell, and for that, she was always grateful. They were individuals, and the echoes of personalities that had belonged to others before them, that were associated with her first team, were few and far between.
"Sensei," Kiba called back from ahead, "is this the right place?" He was gesturing to a rundown building, and Rin eyed the wrecked structure with distaste.
Some of the windows on the lower levels of the apartment building had been smashed in, and juvenile scribbling covered the walls.
Pulling the mission scroll from its place in her pocket, Rin glanced at the address again.
"Seems so."
It was an S-ranked mission, strange for the fact that it took place in the village itself. The Godaime had assigned an extra shinobi to their team for a small while. The shinobi had been out of the village for some time (for reasons that weren't specified; Rin knew better than to ask), and needed to be integrated back into life at Konoha. Rin had found that strange, but had decided to temper the curiosity beginning to gnaw on the edges of her consciousness until she actually met the man.
If the apartment looked run-down on the outside, the inside was worse. The air was stuffy and stale, causing Sakura to sneeze more than once. Kiba, whose nose was by far the most sensitive of the team, had yet to stop sniffling as the dust was kicked up by their passing. The team walked up a rickety staircase, which creaked ominously with every step.
Coming to the right door, Kiba knocked, almost knocking the door down in his enthusiasm. He'd been the most excited to hear of the mission; a shinobi who'd been out of the village for so long would definitely have a lot of stories to tell. While her three students were all of Chunin rank, they still retained a lot of the innocence they'd had since she'd been assigned their mentor. Rin couldn't remember what that was like, it had been far too long for her, but she'd strive to make sure that they could stay the same for as long as possible. They may have been at war, but that didn't mean that she'd allow this team to end up like her first.
Kiba knocked on the door again, impatience beginning to colour his features. Sakura turned back.
"Sensei, you sure you we've got the right place?"
"Assuredly-"
The door swung open. A shock of blonde hair sticking up in all directions, but slightly flatter on the left, as if he'd been woken from lying on his side. His black shirt was askew. Blue eyes, a colour she'd seen once, but had yet to see again.
The blood drained from her face at the uncanny resemblance to her late Sensei- a relative perhaps?- her mind input as background noise.
His clothes were rumpled and eyes tired, but a spark of something ignited as they alighted on her.
"Sensei, are you feeling unwell?" Shino murmured, glancing back at her. His voice was quiet from the confines of his hood, but it was clear all the same. She could just make out the faint buzz of his insects.
"Rin?" It was quiet, hesitant, apologetic, even, but the tone was no different to the one that would filter in through memories she had locked away long ago.
Kiba's eyes flicked back to the doorway.
"You know our Sensei?" The muscles in the boy's shoulders had tightened almost imperceptibly, and his eyes, narrower than moments before, were trained on Minato's every move. He was suspicious, his fingers absently patting a tensing Akamaru. Of course the dog would have picked up on her sudden discomfort.
"Go to training ground three and begin warming up," Rin said, voice faint. "We'll meet you there in a little while." The gaze she levelled at the three of them left no room for argument, but they were angling curious looks back in her direction as they filtered from the hallway. Rin ignored them.
Every line on the man's face was the same as it had been the last time she'd seen him.
Her vocal cords struggled to work.
"Sensei?"
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After that splutter, Rin had not said much.
"They're dead." A hiss.
"Time-travel, you say?" Scorn.
"A lot has changed." Ice.
To Minato, the sweet girl had changed into a jaded woman overnight. Over two nights, to be exact.
At least she'd healed his leg.
He peered at her beneath his lashes, but her dark hair, longer at the front by a few inches than it had been when he'd last seen it, was loose and hiding her face. Her navy coat, slid on top of her Jounin vest, flapped in the wind.
The two had left the apartment for the training grounds in terse silence. Plenty of people were greeting Rin, though her replies were clipped, and her smiles more like grimaces.
"So, that was your team, Rin?" Minato hedged. The answer was obvious, but with his young student suddenly so old, he found himself unbalanced. Her reactions to him prior were not of the Rin he knew- the sweet girl who'd mediate and look for peaceful solutions. This woman was angry. She was sad, bitter. He understood that anger- he doubted that if their positions were reversed, he would have taken it with composure, himself, but the two would have to maintain a working relationship for now. Until they could build something better, at least.
It was understandable that she blamed him, to some extent, for how the team had turned out; he had vanished and while it was understood by anyone who took on a hitai-ate that there may be no coming back from missions, Rin had been left alone to cope with the loss of her entire cell in one fell swoop. A complication with his Jutsu was the reason things had ended up as they had, though he couldn't have foreseen such an event happening. He had owed her an explanation, but she hadn't taken it well.
But Rin had been his student.
Even if she technically was older than him, now, pushing thirty-one to his twenty-one. And wasn't that a strange thought.
"Yes."
"How long have you been teaching them?"
"Four years."
"And they're all Chunin already?" It sounded impressed, even to his own ears, and Rin bristled.
"Obito and I were Chunin at eleven, and Kakashi Jounin at thirteen," she pointed out, voice flat.
"That wasn't entirely down to me, though." Minato shrugged. "Besides, we were at war, then; promotions got sped up."
It was an unpleasant fact, but true all the same. Where forces were running low, the Leaf was no different to anywhere else. When stretched thin and deploying troops, age was disregarded and standards lowered- the experience could make or break a shinobi, and the breakings were nothing short of fatal.
"We're still at war," Rin said, shooting him a look, brown eyes cold. "Not with Iwa, but war is war."
Minato blinked.
"With Suna," the woman continued, "didn't Hokage-sama explain this to you?"
Danzo had said nothing of the sort.
Even while digesting that information, Minato could see some of the older generation doing double takes as they walked by. Whispers were passed from mouths to ears, and from behind hands.
The silence filled the gap between master and student once again, tension bleeding into the air. The two Jounin finally reached their destination, stepping onto the far end of the training field.
The Inuzuka boy, (the dog had given his clan away), and the Aburame, (likewise with the buzz he'd heard in the hallway), were dancing through forms as they sparred. The lone girl of the team had her nose buried in a text book as she sat cross-legged under a willowy tree.
The Aburame was the first to notice their arrival, hand coming up, causing his opponent to halt in his tracks. The Inuzuka yelled for the girl, and the three stood to attention as their Sensei and her guest drew near.
"What took you so long, Sensei?" The wilder looking boy grinned, canines sharper than was usual. His words were to his Sensei, his eyes squared on Minato.
"You're the shinobi who's joining our team, then?" the pink-haired girl asked.
"You don't look very old," Kiba added, giving Minato a once over. "You can't have been out of the village for that long- and Rin-Sensei knows you- so who are you?"
Minato glanced at his old student and noticed the woman slowly massaging her temples with tense fingers. Sensing his gaze, Rin dug her other hand into her vest pocket and tossed him a scroll.
Mission Ranking S, it read, the script at the top in elegant calligraphy. Issued to Team Seven, headed by Jounin Medic Nohara Rin... with the assistance of male shinobi... integrate back into village life... extended cell for a duration of time... until further notice. His eyes skipped over the mission scroll, eyebrows creasing as he frowned.
The kids were still hounding his student, and Minato cleared his throat.
The Godaime had left his "story" to be decided at Minato's own discretion. There was no use in hiding his identity from Konoha- even civilians had decorum about matters such as these- not that he could recall a situation that had even a passing similarity to his. Regardless, they were at war- Konoha didn't look, didn't sound like it was in a good state. Danzo would be finding use for him soon, and recovering a shinobi who'd had a flee-on-sight order placed on his head would surely be enough to give Konoha a little breathing space. If he was being sent out again, soon, hiding his identity was a pointless endeavour. Broadcasting it was out of the question, naturally, but it filtering out was not a bad idea. Either way, the shinobi in front of him were his team now, and lying to them, unless completely necessary, was out of the question.
"My name is Namikaze Minato," he said, voice calm and steady. "Your Sensei knows me as you know her- I was her Jounin instructor."
Kiba snorted, looking from one of the Jounin to the other. "You're kidding, right? Sensei's older than you!" He was stopped from continuing as the girl of the team smacked him upside the head and he stumbled forward.
"What was that for, you crazy bitch!?"
"Don't imply things about a woman's age, idiot." The girl sniffed, crossing her arms. "Please carry on, Namikaze-san, my teammate is a little ignorant on social etiquette." She glared at the boy again, and Minato chuckled.
Somewhat of a spitfire, then.
The third member of the team decided to speak. "As misguided as he was in his attempts," the boy started, "Kiba had a point. You do seem a great deal younger than our Sensei, and the mission scroll states you've been out of the village for many years. You are not wearing a henge- my insects detect nothing."
Clearly something doesn't add up, was left unsaid.
Minato glanced at Rin. The woman was staring back. Her lips were pursed in a half-pout, eyebrows drawn slightly over eyes that were as dispassionate as they could be, nose upturned just a smidgeon. She was upset, trying adamantly to hide it behind a stoic mask- the girl of thirteen shadowed every line of her expression. He'd seen that look more than once- usually when Kakashi had said something insensitive without realising. Rin's posture was forcibly relaxed; Minato could see the tremor of her right hand. It wasn't fooling him or her students for a minute- the Inuzuka's dog was glancing between the two Jounin with its ears flattened, and he could hear the faint buzz of the Aburame's bugs getting... antsy.
Heaving a sigh, Minato turned his attention fully back to the Chunin on the field.
"You're right; I am 'younger' than your Sensei- but that wasn't always the case. I am- I was- her Jounin instructor. We were assigned a mission in the Third Shinobi War, and my team and I had to split up. I have a Jutsu that I use- it's Space/Time based-"
Minato didn't have to be a Jounin to notice the sudden interested glint in Kiba's eyes.
"-and something went wrong with it in an altercation with Iwa. I haven't seen your Sensei- or Konoha, since."
"The Third Shinobi War concluded almost two decades ago," Shino said.
"You don't look like you've aged two decades, either," Kiba added, eyes narrowed. "I mean, there's looking underneath the underneath, but... where exactly were you?"
"He was now," Rin answered. At Kiba's questioning look, she decided to elaborate. "The question you should be asking is when was he. He was now- here."
Sakura was the first to grasp what her Sensei was getting at. "Time travel?"
"It would seem so."
There was quiet, and then-
"Konoha's Yellow Flash," she breathed.
Along with the Legendary Three, the Professor and God of Shinobi, and the White Fang, the Yellow Flash had been a name whispered about, revered, on the academy playground. There were whole classes dedicated to analysing what he'd done in the war, how much Konoha had invested in him before his disappearance, and Iwa's claims about the whole situation. Konoha's progress in that war had largely been sitting on the shoulders of the man in front of her. With the Jutsu that had been fabled to have slaughtered platoons of shinobi in seconds, and struck fear right into the heart of Iwa. With his disappearance, morale had fallen and Konoha's luck had begun to falter.
She knew his name had sounded familiar.
"Yes."
The Inuzuka was staring at him slack-jawed, and Minato resisted the urge to shift from foot to foot under the scrutiny of the combined gazes.
"Now that Namikaze-san has introduced himself," Rin said, cutting off a further inquisition, "how about you three do the same?"
"Inuzuka Kiba", Kiba said, pointing at himself. "And this is my buddy, Akamaru."
"Haruno Sakura."
"Aburame Shino."
And that was that. After having run through some basic training exercises and reminding them of the mission's S-Rank status, which meant no discussing the inner details of what they'd heard with those outside the team, Rin sent them on their way for the day.
"We're meeting here again at noon tomorrow," she said. "You can have this time to familiarise yourself with the village, again. I doubt the Hokage wants you hiding away- he would have told you to keep out of sight, otherwise. You should go see him, though- he asked that you report to him once we're done."
"Maybe a little later," Minato said.
Rin nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." She turned and began walking from the training field with measured, firm steps. Minato stood alone, watching her retreating back for a moment, before turning away.
He had things to do.
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The buzz of the village had long since faded out behind him as he travelled to where most of the Uchiha had resided. Unlike the Hyuuga, the Uchiha did not deign to house all their clan in one compound- they had deemed it a tactical issue to house all their members in one area. As influential as they had been for such a long-standing, noble clan, they hadn't, to Minato's knowledge, exerted a level of control over their family members like the aforementioned Hyuuga had, either. The clan head, Fugaku, had, however, lived in the main estate, surrounded by a few other small families, and it was to his residence that Minato was travelling. Having been informed of what had become of Fugaku's sons, the visit was long overdue, though that was hardly something that Minato could have helped.
He dreaded to think how the meeting would go. He didn't have to be an expert on social conventions to think "Long time no see, Fugaku-san, sorry to hear about your sons betraying the village," made a terrible icebreaker. "How's your wife, Fugaku? My girlfriend's dead, you know." Minato shook his head, ignoring the nausea beginning to stir in his belly. He supposed he'd have to play the whole conversation by ear.
Stepping through the gate that separated the compound from the village, Minato was immediately struck by how much larger it was. The walls had been pushed forwards, new houses erected in neat rows.
Of course, not a second later, the next thing to strike his attention was the disarray of the immediate vicinity, from the cracks in the walls, to the dust grubbing up the metallic tiles of the fountains, and broken glass in the windows. The silence pervaded every corner of the living area, life signs limited to insects and the birds that had nested in the roof gutter of a nearby house.
Proceeding quietly, Minato walked onwards¸ hand hovering by his holster. He didn't detect anything hostile, but situations were prone to changing within seconds.
Memory guided him through the compound in the direction he remembered Fugaku and Mikoto's house to be, as he finally emerged into an area he recognised.
The home of the clan head was in a bigger state of ruin than rest of the compound, windows shattered and walls blackened as if they'd once been aflame. Pushing on the door, Minato was unsurprised when it easily gave way. It carved a path through the dust covered floor within the house, and Minato stepped inside.
Silence.
No different from the rest of the compound, Minato's travel through the building turned up naught but more dust. The interior was frozen in time, the grime sitting on items that had long since felled and remained unmoved.
He was about to enter the bedroom when he heard footfalls further back in the house. He froze, but the footsteps easily followed his own path through the building, an ANBU operative emerging from around the corner down the hall.
"Namikaze-san." A soft voice, a female voice, slightly hardened by the monotonous tone that all ANBU seemed to employ. Her porcelain mask almost appeared to glow in the darkness, the markings on it half-indistinguishable.
"ANBU-san."
The shinobi inclined her head. "It may have escaped your attention, but this compound is out of bounds for the time being."
Ah...
"What happened here?"
"It would be best explained by Hokage-sama. I understand you're to have a meeting with him now?" She gestured back the way she had come. "I'd be happy to escort you, Namikaze-san."
Happy to escort me, are you? Minato didn't have to work hard to keep a look of disbelief off of his face, his features schooling easily into a neutral mask. The ANBU was forcing him off the property.
He was going to meet with the Hokage, regardless, the earlier trip would just provide him with answers.
It was only while leaving the compound that Minato chanced a glance up and caught sight of the fourth face carved on the monument, fitting snugly between those of the Sandaime and Godaime. Despite his current annoyance, his eyebrow quirked; he knew those eyes well- he'd certainly been in the man's company enough while still being trained directly by his own Sensei, Jiraiya. Compared to the two surrounding it, Orochimaru's face was full of youth, even if the impassive expression immortalised on the rock was a jarring difference to the smirk Minato was accustomed to seeing on the man's face.
For all his genius, he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised at the village's choice for the title of Yondaime. He had to wonder what had become of the Snake Sannin, however; if a Godaime had had to be appointed...
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"Did you hear- the Yellow Flash- the Yellow Flash- he's back! He's alive!"
"But Iwa-?"
"You're lying- he's long dead, stop fuelling the rumour mill, Matsuda, it's getting annoying."
"He's back!"
"-Seen leaving the Hokage tower-"
"-Seen with Nohara-san's team- you know he was her Sensei, right?"
"As if he'd dare show his face now- if he really was alive, then he would have been fighting that war with us. You calling the Yellow Flash a deserter? Are you?"
"-Seen leaving the Uchiha compound!"
"The Yellow Flash- alive!"
"The Yellow Flash... alive?"
"Where was he during the war?"
"Where was he when we were fighting?"
"Where was he?"
"Alive?"
"Where-?"
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Minato had earlier thought that Uchiha Itachi would be a name he'd have to remember. Now, however, he doubted that the name would ever be forgotten. It would be seared into his mind forever more.
Uchiha Itachi, the man who had massacred his clan. The clan of Minato's dead, student. The clan who's matriarch was one of Kushina's closest friends. The clan that had been with Konoha since its founding.
Uchiha Itachi had been fifteen years of age.
The man had murdered his mother, his father, and near everyone else before alarms had been raised. Out of a clan that had comprised of almost three-hundred, there were less than twenty left, two of which- Itachi and his younger brother, Sasuke- were now registered as rogue ninja. Seven of the remaining seventeen were on active duty, a majority of those holding the rank of Chunin and Genin. Two of the seven were Jounin, one of those having been grievously injured having discovered and confronted Itachi while he was culling his kin. The remaining members, six women and four men, were civilians or retired, spread throughout the village, no longer in one clan compound. The Uchiha were a noble clan no more.
After numbly asking why the clan had been in one main district to begin with, for they had always maintained that to be a security risk, Danzo had brought up the Kyuubi attack, the loss of numerous members of their clan in Konoha's defence, and the mentality of safety in numbers.
For all the good it had done them.
Minato had been let out of the office not too soon after that, following a quick debriefing on his day and decisions.
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It was later that night that Minato finally met with some old friends. They had been the furthest thing from his mind at the time- he was still mulling over how one man, or rather, how one fifteen year old child had managed to single-handedly decimate almost his entire clan.
He had been walking, thoughts elsewhere, with the squawks of surprised villagers accompanying him, when someone had rushed him, coming up fast in his peripheral vision. Throwing off their balance with a strike to the back of their knees, the long-haired blond had toppled. Minato had been reaching for a kunai- enemies in Konoha?- when his body had suddenly frozen to the spot.
"Shadow Imitation Technique... A success."
What-? Shadow Imitation... a Nara?
He hadn't even seen the unnatural darkness moving in on him in a street where shadows were thrown into sharp relief by lanterns that lined the pathway. His gaze had been preoccupied with the thought of attack and he hadn't seen the black coil slithering across the street. The man on the floor, (he looked so familiar), was picking himself up now, moving towards Minato with a grim expression on his face. A hand grasped his chin, forcing his head this way and that before he stepped back, fingers set in a very familiar seal.
Yamanaka-
"Sto-"
-His father ruffled his hair on his entry to the academygraduation day he wished his mother was there to seeKushina wanted to be Hokageher hair was growing longer and with that shade she really did look like a tomato not that he'd tell her thatagainhis nose had yet to healKakashi's pout was obvious even through the mask "dogs are better than toads, Sensei"Kushina came closer and closer eyes fluttering shuthis hand fingered the strands of her hair and"got something in your eyes again, Obito""Rin don't let them bother you"Hiraishin if he'd been anyone else he would have sworn that tree wasn't therered red red "Kakashi?" a sword "I'm sorry Sakumo"-
"It's him."
Minato was released from the shadow hold as a hand clapped him heartily on the back, making his knees buckle.
"So the rumours are true, then?" Choza nodded. "You are back. It's been too long, Minato-kun."
"We apologise." Inoichi smiled, stepping forward. "We had to be sure that it was you. Your memories don't lie."
Minato blinked, clearing his mind of misplaced memories. His hand drifted to the back of his neck. Inoichi had been in his head. In his head. He had intruded on his memories, his privacy, be it for seconds or not, it was not something that sat well with him.
"The Hokage's word wasn't enough?" Even to his own ears, his voice sounded rougher than had been intended.
They had his DNA after all.
"You escaped the T&I department before a Yamanaka could get a look at you, Minato," the blond said easily. "It was just a precaution- we're at war... there's no such thing as being overly cautious. And besides, what's such a greeting between old friends?" He held out his hand.
Minato eyed it. He couldn't fault them for being suspicious, not really. He knew he would have been. Trepidation bleeding from his veins, he reached up and grasped Inoichi's hand in a firm grip. "...Nothing to it at all."
Silence.
Awkward silence.
"Come drink with us, Minato-kun," Choza suddenly boomed.
Minato had no choice but to comply as he was bodily dragged away.
† † †
Minato had kept pace with Shikaku as Choza and Inoichi ploughed on ahead. It was a trip he'd made before, only the last time, the four of them were in line as Inoichi gestured grandly while he talked of an achievement or three he'd completed. He found the now march to the bar akin to walking to an execution rather than a meet with old (new?) friends. The tension was there, just under the surface.
It took a few drinks before it began to ease away.
"Truly a troublesome situation." Shikaku liberated the last of the liquid in the saucer in front of him. Inoichi and Choza nodded in unison. Minato sat opposite them, elbow resting on the table, face cupped by his hand as he surveyed his old friends. Old, both in a literal and metaphorical sense.
Because his friends were old.
Their faces were showing the signs of weather, lines having been etched where they'd never been previously. They had grown into their bodies, no lingering traces of the end of their adolescence holding onto them.
They were older in body and in mind, Minato thought, as he took a sip of his drink. Sure, Choza still praised things to culinary heaven, Inoichi joked, and Shikaku complained, but they were married now. They had children. They shared stories and a history that Minato was not included in and had no part in shaping. It was a barrier as clear as the table between them, just like it had been with Rin.
They were his generation, his peers, and they were old. They had grown without him, and though he was there, he had been left behind.
He wondered how he looked to them. Did they see him as a child? With their talks of wives and children, he felt like one. He'd never been one to feel self-conscious; do or do not, let people think what they please, but he couldn't help but think this was different.
Surveying the trio opposite, a small smile playing on his lips at their antics, (Choza had valiantly offered the last cracker the bar had provided them with to Inoichi, who had just as valiantly snapped it in two and offered his friend the bigger half), Minato wondered if he were perhaps over-thinking it all. Kushina had told him it was something that he was prone to doing and that admission would usually be accompanied by a slap upside the head. His reflexes always tended to fail when she was around.
Kushina. Dead.
He swallowed, lowering the drink. Clearly he'd put back more to drink than he'd thought. It was best not to think about such things, not yet. If you had only been there, Guilt started, and if you made your way here, there must be a way back.
A hand waving in front of his face broke him from any further thoughts.
"Still with us, Minato?"
"Yes."
They didn't look convinced, and Minato cleared his throat.
"Kushina," he said. "Would any of you be able to tell me what exactly happened to Kushina? Danzo- Godaime-sama said she'd died in the Kyuubi attack- but he didn't elaborate."
Their gazes were pinning him now.
"I need to know."
It was Choza who finally spoke, voice gravelly in its hush.
"It was the Kyuubi, Minato-kun. But it was a strange occurrence. Unexpected. There was no warning, no way it could have been predicted. On that night, the Kyuubi appeared in the northern district of Konoha-"
"What do you mean 'appeared'?" Minato asked, eyes narrowing.
"It means that one minute the night was quiet, the next the temperature skyrocketed and the Kyuubi was raging through Konoha." Inoichi sighed. "Kushina's district was the first to go- they didn't- Minato, there wasn't- there wasn't much of her body left to be found. Her house was completely destroyed."
"Save for the gate," Minato murmured.
"Save for the gate..."
Silence.
"And it just appeared?"
Choza reached across the table to settle a hand on his shoulder. Minato looked up. "Then what happened to the Kyuubi?"
"Sandaime-sama defeated it."
"...Defeated the Kyuubi?" The Kyuubi of legend. Minato had heard of it. Its history was tied intimately with that of Konoha's founding. It was fabled to be able to destroy mountains, cause earthquakes, tsunamis, with a flick of one of its many tails.
Shikaku's eyes were shuttered now- hiding something- the expression secure, but giving him away. Minato had seen that look birthed before it has become what it now was.
"So it... retreated?"
"The Sandaime defeated it."
"So what happened to it, then?" Minato pressed.
Inoichi shrugged. "We wouldn't be able to tell you."
Wouldn't or couldn't? He stared at the men seated opposite.
Choza cleared his throat as the silence fought to descend once again. "We really should be going, Minato-kun," he said, glancing at the clock perched atop the bar. "My wife'll be going spare."
"At least she's not as bad as mine," Shikaku grumbled. "Troublesome woman."
"Thank the Gods neither of you have daughters." Inoichi shook his head.
It appeared to be the beginning of a debate they'd had many times before, Minato noticed.
The men got to their feet.
"I take it you have somewhere to stay?" Inoichi suddenly asked, eyes back on Minato. "If not-"
"No- I- it's fine," he said, waving them off. "I have a place to stay- don't worry about me."
They nodded. "It really is good seeing you again, Minato-kun," Choza said, patting him on the back. "Don't worry about your drinks, it's my tab today. It's the least I can do... We'll be seeing you again." After heading to the bar to clear the issue of payment, they left. The door creaked shut behind them and Minato drained the last of his drink. He turned to the bar staff who'd ambled up to him. It wasn't like he was paying...
"Another, please."
The man at the bar set yet another drink down on the table with a soft clunk. What a sad state of affairs it was, to be drinking alone. His sensei wouldn't be pleased. He hoped Jiraiya would be back in the village soon.
He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there before someone slid down into a seat further across in the room. Hair so dark it seemed to absorb the light present around him and an Uchiha crest adorning his back. One of the few Sharingan wielders left in the village, then.
As if sensing the meditative gaze on his back, the man turned fully to face Minato, eyebrow raised. The expression was thrown by the eye patch the man wore, the strings disappearing under a well-kept mop of wavy hair. Minato looked away. He supposed being an Uchiha marked you a lot of staring nowadays.
Minato stared back into his drink. Half empty. His lips quirked and he downed it in one shot. Rolling his neck, he sighed, stood, and ambled out of the bar. He had nothing left to gain by staying any longer.
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