A/N: Somebody made a comment last chapter - a guest, I think - mentioning how they were 'tired of the hide it from him/her' trope that many writers, I admit, use in time-travel fanfictions. (This was, of course, referring to how Mirai is hiding her true origins from her parents.)
I have a few things to say about this:
First of all, with all due respect to the reviewer, this is my fanfic. I can write what I please, how I please, and if somebody doesn't like either of those, they can kindly remove themselves from my page.
Don't get me wrong, I welcome constructive criticism, but there is a strong difference between commenting to suggest things that could be changed or fixed concerning my writing (with positive intentions), and commenting negatively about how a certain trope that I used is not to your liking. (Not to mention without an account, meaning the likeliness of returning to read more of the story is very low, so the comment was basically a slam against my story because it didn't fit their preferences perfectly.)
Second, I'm not sure if the guest reviewer took the time to think about it, but Mirai is traumatized. Okay? She literally just went through war, got thrown back in time, and had to meet people who are supposed to be dead - all with the burden of knowing that she has to keep pushing through a shitload of pain so that she can save everyone. She's mentally screwed right now, and she's scared of making new bonds, (because, if you've payed any attention to the previous chapters, she's planning on leaving. She doesn't want to form connections because she doesn't want to go through the heartbreak of losing her loved ones again.)
If she goes and cries to her parents (a scene that the guest reader had thought needed to happen immediately, and was upset that I hadn't written), then a bond will form, because she is revealing herself at an extremely vulnerable state.
The moment you trust somebody with that type of vulnerability, you immediately let them in, to some extent, so no. Mirai isn't going to go crying to her parents. At least, not yet. That sort of thing comes later - you know, after things dont go her way and she's forced to make bonds. (I'm not spoiling anything. It's inevitable, guys, because this fic is meant to have a happy ending.)
Anyway, sorry for ranting. Just, please, if you're going to comment about things you don't like, at least do it with good intentions and not to slam my work for no reason. I love reading all of your comments, and when things like this come up, it's a huge let down.
On with the chapter!
The air between the two blondes was spiked with distinct waves of awkwardness - the majority of it, of course, being caused by Mirai's unwillingness to speak or acknowledge the man beside her in any sort of way.
The day was nearing its inevitable end, the sun casting molten rays of gold and orange and maroon to flood the village. The bleeding colors of the sky painted the trees and buildings with glowing colors, reflecting off of glass, wood, and faded paint, and creating a kaleidoscope of warm hues to illuminate the faces of the busy market's inhabitants. Leaves swayed with a warm and gentle breeze, one that lapped at Mirai's face in a tender caress, playing happily with the windblown and messy wisps of her bangs.
Stubbornly, the girl kept her head angled ahead of her, eyes trailing across the market with plastic interest as she rather pointedly refused to acknowledge the presence beside her.
Unfortunately, ignoring the man was proving to be a difficult task - Minato was undoubtedly charismatic, his friendly, warm, and disarming smile filling her with the warmth of a rising sun and the guilt of a killer. It was becoming increasingly clear that her intentions of keeping everyone away from by her heart were being smashed mercilessly.
As of now, the pair was travelling at a rather sedate pace to Minato's home. Minato's home.
Her father's home.
And Kushina... would she be there too? Her mother could be waiting for her at home, and that thought made her so terrified and so happy--
'Shut up,' she warned herself, the words reverberating in her mind. This wasn't her home. Her home was gone, destroyed, crushed by a boulder that--
(Smashed his bones with a sickening series of crunches and snaps, grinding them to nothing more than dust. A cough escaped his lips, blood spraying in a way that was painfully similar to hers. His lips moved, mouth forming words that he didn't have the breath (or lungs) to speak aloud.
'Dead,' her mind screamed, 'Dead. He's dead-!'
But he wasn't dead. He wouldn't be for at least a couple of hours. Not that it mattered. He might as well be dead, because she couldn't save him. She knew she couldn't and he knew she couldn't.
But she stayed with him, held his hand until the light faded from his dark eyes, glazing with the white frost of vacancy.
"Goodbye, Yamato-taichou."
She had failed again, and it hurts.)
Mirai snapped back to her senses, a warm weight settling heavily on her shoulder, effectively pulling her feet to a stumbling halt. Minato stared down at her warily, "Back into your thoughts again, Mirai?"
She cleared her throat nervously, absentmindedly noticing that due with the distraction her thoughts gave her, the air of awkwardness that had swarmed her person had gradually been replaced with something that was weighed down with darkness, dense and painful - and the change hadn't gone unnoticed by Minato in the slightest.
"Sorry," she cleared her throat once again, "Did... did you say something?"
The man gave a small yet reassuring smile, but the glint in his eyes told Mirai that he hadn't overlooked this little incident, "I was asking if you've enjoyed your time in the village so far?"
"Ah, it's... very similar to my old home, actually," she responded in a nearly indiscernible mumble, eyes travelling lazily to count the puffy clouds. Beautiful shades of pink, purple, and royal blue tinted the cotton-like shapes, blurring at the edges and inking the sky.
'Shikamaru would have loved to see this.'
The blonde tilted his head in interest, "How so?"
The girl blinked, and he flinched regretfully when her petal pink lips twitched downwards and several expressions flashed across her young features, too subtle and too quick for him to discern. Her eyes lowered, peeling away from the clouds and watching her foot distractedly as she kicked a pebble, the small rock clacking dully as it bounced off of the beaten road.
"The architecture was almost identical in design. Much like here, the villagers were out at absurd hours, always finding something to busy themselves with - whether it was entertainment in the form of music and dance, or shopping sprees and crazed festivals," the grin that had ghosted it's way on her face as she spoke flickered out, eyes dimming uncertainly. "But... at the same time, the villagers weren't so happy, I guess."
At his questioning gaze, the girl elaborated, some amount of hesitation and uncertainty in her words, as if she wasn't sure she should be speaking, "There was always a sort of... fear, I suppose-"
She cut herself short, "You grew up here, didn't you?"
Minato's eyes narrowed, his curiosity piquing. He had an uncountable amount of questions, the large pile brimming over in his mind - because Minato was a naturally curious person, a side effect of his genius, many speculated - and he had an insatiable desire to learn, and solve, and discover. But for now, he ignored the not-so-subtle change of topic, nodding in confirmation even though the girl hadn't turned her head to see it.
"As far as I know, yes. I never knew my parents," he admitted with a small shrug, "They passed away when I was too young to remember, so I grew up in the orphanage. It's--"
"About five blocks thattaway," the girl cut in, gesturing behind them in an almost dismissive manner. Minato glanced at her in muted surprise, to which she responded with a halfhearted shrug. "Saw it the other day, when I was... exploring," she mumbled.
Minato opened his mouth to respond, only to cut himself off as his eyes landed on the familiar small house in front of him. It was a subtle, faded blue, with two stories and a traditional porch wrapping around the front exterior. Yellow and red flowers spotted the window box planters, the colorings popping out cheerfully and giving a welcoming aura to the quaint home.
A grin spread across Minato's face, "This is it!"
Mirai eyed the small, two storied house with no small amount of guilt and longing in her chest, and with uncertain steps, she followed her father, shifting her weight between her feet nervously as he fiddled with his keys. The porch was white, the paint just beginning to crack and peel with age at the corners of the carefully cut lumber. Handpainted vines curled around in twirling patterns on the off-white background, connecting in fluid strokes with pink rosebuds and yellow daffodils. The cutesy design traversed across the entirety of the railing, crawling vibrantly over the edges of the front windows until they met at the top of the doorway, both ends forming a perfect loop in the center. The loop framed two initials, both stroked carefully and lovingly in a pale yellow, 'N. M., U. K.'
Her chest tightened painfully, fist clenching her shirt as she gulped down the lump in her throat and willed her eyes to stay dry.
'This isn't fair.'
The door, navy blue in color, opened with a slight creak once Minato managed to unlock it, and the man stepped inside, flicking the lights on and kicking off his shoes in a manner that betrayed his comfort in the homely environment.
Upon entering, she was immediately greeted with a small foyer. A shoe rack sat to her right, and a coat hanger was tucked in the corner to her left. The foyer opened into a wide livingroom, a small kitchen sitting just past it, and a set of wooden stairs.
Minato grinned warmly at her.
"Kushina's out on a diplomatic mission for the next few weeks. She doesn't normally go out of the village, but this particular one begs for her influence on certain topics, so for the most part you wont have to worry about her being absent from the village the same way that I will be when I have missions without my cute little chuunins." He ruffled her locks as he passed by her, "I know you probably wouldn't want to stay in an empty house, so I hope that's a small comfort for you."
Mirai only nodded silently in response, numbly toeing off her shoes and forcing her fingers to put a stop to their trembling.
She'd lived alone her entire life. She'd be fine on her own a few days.
("The Kannabi Bridge mission was the result of failed negotiations between Konoha and several other involved parties," Obito ran a hand through his black hair, grimacing in disgust when streaks of dirt and flakes of dried blood smeared on his hand with the action. "The bridge was the main route taken by Iwa's merchants, traders, brokers, traffickers - you name it.
"If we time it right, you'll hopefully make it there before the mission. Kushina was actually one of the diplomats assigned to negotiate - the weight of her title as clan head and her moniker, 'Red Hot Habanero', was something that the council had hoped would sway the opposition into abandoning trade with Iwa, that way it would weaken the entire village as a whole. Unfortunately, the negotiations with Iwa's providers fell through despite that.
"As long as you keep an eye on Kushina's--," A look of realization and slight shock crossed his features, and he threw a glance in her direction, eyes dimming regretfully at the forgiving smile that bloomed on Mirai's soot-smeared face. "Your... mother's," he corrected, "...whereabouts, then you'll be able to tell when it's coming."
"She left for that particular mission only a month or two before Team Minato was tasked with the destruction of the bridge. You probably won't be able to help with any political aspects, so you'll have to deal with the fallout rather than killing the problem at its its source.")
So it was that time already. It made her anxious, knowing that with the Kannabi Bridge mission would be initiated in such a short amount of time, but reassurance accompanied the uncomfortable feeling in her chest. She had time, little as it was, and she planned on using it.
She was snapped out of her thoughts when Minato's deep voice called from the kitchen. The blonde leaned his head into the hallway with a grin, a spatula dangling loosely on his index finger, "You hungry?"
Dinner was a quiet affair, the silent and slightly awkward air broken only by the occasional clinking of dishes or creaking of the wooden chairs. Minato had whipped up the meal in record time, giving a quiet chuckle at the unconcealed awe in Mirai's gaze as she watched him move about the kitchen with a speed that she swore was impossible when it came the cooking. He had rather casually informed her that, "Kushina gets grumpy when she's hasn't eaten. Trust me, nobody wants to be on the bad side of a hangry Kushina! ...Don't tell her I said that."
Mirai was pleasantly surprised to find that her father was an astounding cook as well, and despite her numerous attempts to keep her thoughts from touching the topic of family, she wondered if her mother was equally as gifted with culinary skill.
She, herself, was incapable of anything more complicated than boiling water for ramen - that is to say, she was quite terrible at cooking more savory and health-oriented meals. On more than a few occasions throughout her life from Before, orphaned and alone, she had definitely attempted to gain at least some experience with the art, but alas, it was simply impossible for her to make anything remotely edible while simultaneously preserving her fingers from the wrath of her knife.
Nevermind that she was a kunoichi that dealt with kunai on a daily basis - kitchen knives paired with meat and vegetables were the bane of her existence and simply didn't agree with her.
She liked to think she was adept at baking, though. Whipping up a variety of cakes, cookies, and numerous confections became a hobby as easy as breathing, becoming a close second to even pranking. It was something she had begun to dabble with after the colorful cussing fit and raging tantrum she had thrown when she finally clued into the blatant fact that she sucked at cooking.
She conceded that were someone to teach her how to cook, she would jump at the opportunity and try her very best - but as it was, she turned her back on the mere concept of cooking for herself, which had inevitably led to her addiction (yes, she had, in fact, admitted to herself that it was an addiction) to the Food of the Gods, Almighty Ramen.
What had initially been her favorite food became her only source of food, (because none of the grocery stores or restaurants aside from Ichiraku's wouldn't let her so much as touch their stalls), save for the times that Iruka-sensei forced her to eat vegetables - which she would be eternally grateful for, because if not for him she would have keeled over by now--
Her heart burned in her chest with the knowledge that she would never know Iruka in the same way again, and the food felt and tasted like burning ash in her mouth.
"Thank you for the meal, Minato-sensei. It was delicous," she said quietly, voice just above a nervous whisper. The words left her lips feeling as if they were spoken by somebody else, and she internally winced at the sheer vulnerability her tone radiated. But that was okay, she supposed, because at least it would distract her from her thoughts.
His eyes flitted to her half-finished plate, confusion swirling lightly in his chakra, but he smiled tenderly nonetheless, seeming to come to some sort of conclusion in his mind.
"It's no problem, Mirai-chan," he stood, feigning ignorance at the way she flinched away from him as he collected her plate from the table. Her eyes trailed his form as a dissapeared into the kitchen, the dish clacking faintly on what she could only guess was either the counter or sink, before emerging only a moment later. He stopped, tilting his head slightly as he stared tenderly at her.
She avoided his gaze.
"You look tired," he murmured softly, almost as if talking to himself.
And she was tired. She hadn't even realized it before, exhaustion being the last thing on her mind between being forcefully initiated into a new team and moving in with her parents. The sheer physical and mental fatigue hadn't even surfaced in her line of awareness, but with his words, it seemed as if a switch had been flicked, and exhaustion had suddenly caught up with her undeveloped body.
She blinked slowly, unable to restrain herself from rubbing her fist against her eye in an attempt to rid the pinpricking sensation that came with her exhausted state, and nodded tiredly.
Minato hid a gentle smile behind his hand, "Let's see your room, hm?"
Mirai wasn't like Sasuke - the type to seek retribution for every unjust or unfair act against her person. Really, despite the fact that it was genuinely impossible for her to accurately count the number of times she'd been wronged in the past, she was never one to immediately retaliate.
Ever since his clan was massacred, Sasuke seemed to be almost immune to most violence. At the time, nobody thought to wonder why.
Which was a mistake, they later learned. A monumental mistake.
Most passed it off as simple side effects of witnessing a crime so disturbing as the Massacre - another mistake, because he was supposed to have gotten therapy, but he didn't. Somehow, that was overlooked, and the consequences were severe.
It was the blindness of the supposed leaders of Konohagakure that was that leading cause of his defection. Too many signs were overlooked, too many blatantly obvious signs were completely ignored - Sasuke wasn't given the treatment he needed and they paid for it.
Mirai didn't have a natural tendency for violence - no matter how numb she was to it now. She and the Kyuubi worked together harmoniously now. No longer was she prone to fits rage, fueled by Kurama's own anger--
(Flashes of blue eyes and long blonde hair, slick with blood, assaulted her vision. She regretted it - she truly did--)
She shook her head roughly, crushing the memory down. She never actively sought bloodshed. That was the point.
But, let it never be said that she didn't enjoy a bit of petty revenge on occasion.
Okay, so technically, the man she was currently devising a plan to assault had never done anything to her - at least not yet - but when she saw him, she couldn't help bit remember that one time from Before, where he rudely - and spitefully - denied her entry into the Academy on her first day, looking down his nose with disdain. He stiffly informed her in a nasally voice that monsters weren't allowed to become ninjas.
The words had stung, and it had taken everything for her not to cry, but she had managed - crying only made them angry, after all, because monsters weren't allowed to cry-- But, personal matters aside, the man was still an asshole - it was because of that that Mirai had decided to send him a small gift.
Privy to the knowledge that she loves to bake, one would also know that that particular hobby quickly became something that had sort of meshed together with one of her other hobbies; pranking. The lovely gift that Mirai had opted to send was a simple orange cake - not chocolate, because chocolate was her absolute favorite, and she refused to violate it in such a way - generously iced with orange flavored frosting and a few choice fillings. These 'fillings' were, of course, the main attraction, and they weren't at all hard to acquire - (the alleyways of Konoha, especially in the Red Light District, were chock full of nasty bugs and creepy crawlers, after all.) With a sensitive exploding tag, rigged to activate when in contact with a specific type of metal, in this case, steel (because hello, kitchen knives), and a saccharine smile, the prank went as smoothly as her flawlessly spread buttercream.
Well, technically that's a lie... she didn't exactly know that he was headed for T and I, where he subsequently left it in their break room, but it still went rather swimmingly, she supposed, because most of the people in that building had done her wrong anyway.
Collateral damage could sometimes act as sweet revenge.
Though, this sweet revenge seemed to come with unfortunate consequences - that is, her detection. It didn't take that long for them to discover her location, which she immediately blamed on the effect Kurama had on her chakra, and the chase ensued.
She had to hand it to this generation, these chuunin weren't slackers.
But they still weren't enough.
The civilians were but blurs of color as she passed them, chakra boosting her sprint as she weaved through the thick croud, using their superior height as a cover for her small form. The air swooshed loudly in her ears, dust swirling in a trail behind her.
"Get back here, you little brat!"
And that particular cry of rage came from her main victim as he chased after her, colorful curses flowing from his mouth all the while. A giggle poured from her lips, and she skirted around a civilian girl, spinning lightly on her left foot to avoid colliding into a rather wealthy looking trader. A fluid twist of her body ensured her ability to dodge under a moving cart, emerging as a blur of black and yellow, and she darted forward, aiming to use the short stretch of road before her as a jump path to access the rooftops - then, in an instant, that space was filled.
She let out a cry of alarm, but a glimpse of widening onyx was the only thing she was able to catch before she crashed straight into the boy, and the pair tumbled to the ground in a messy tangle of limbs.
Mirai groaned loudly, slowly raising her aching head from the warm and admittedly soft surface she had landed on.
Wait, warm?
She shrieked, arms flailing as she flung herself off of him, jumping back offendedly, "What the hell!?"
The boy groaned, "I feel like a boulder just landed on my stomach."
"As you should! Where the hell did you even come from!?"
In a flash, he was on his feet, seemingly recovered as he looked down at her bemusedly, "I should be asking you that. Why are you running anywa-"
"Shh!," she slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide in panic as she dragged him behind a nearby vendor's stand. Pressing a forceful palm on his head, she shoved him down roughly. "Sorry," she whispered breathlessly, "But you're stuck with me now."
He peered over her shoulder, eyes travelling to the cussing chuunin warily, "What did you do?"
She clapped a hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt to keep her gleeful chuckle from escaping, "Call it payback. The guy is a bonafide ass, dattebane."
She eyed him, and the smirk that curled at the edges of her lips, sly and cunning as a fox, told him that he really was stuck with her. "What's your name?"
"Uchiha Shisui," he replied skeptically, "What's--"
The chuunin ran by their makeshift hiding spot, tucked behind a stack of wooden cartons. His hands flailed in anger, trails of sticky orange frosting splatted messily on the ground, globs of the stuff smacking loudly as it dripped from his flack jacket and hair. A clump of worms and roaches wriggled grossly in the goopy substance, squirming around on the unfortunate man as he squealed comically in disgust, simultaneously spitting out curses involving blonde hair and 'tiny imps in the form of a child'.
It was then that Mirai could no longer contain it, and she collapsed to the ground in peals of laughter, the gleeful noise bubbling freely from her lips, no doubt being heard from at least two blocks away. The raven-haired boy stifled his own chuckles, the confusion swirling in his chakra telling her that he still had no idea what was going on - and yet, she noted with surprise, he was still appropriately amused.
The unnamed chuunin finally left, her laughter going unheard by him over his own curses, and she wheezed, barely recovering from her lengthy laughing fit. "Ah, what a rush!"
"What's going to be a rush is the fallout of this little stunt of yours!"
She froze at the voice, limbs winding up for a quick getaway, but just as she bolted forward, she was roughly yanked back by the collar, "Ack!"
"Mirai."
The sheer calm that filled in his voice sent chills down her spine, and she twisted her neck, laughing sheepishly as she met her father's stern gaze. "Y-yes, Minato-sensei?"
A tight-lipped glare was all she was given in response, and the orange blob of frosting that dripped down his nose landed on the ground with a splat that seemed to echo abnormally in her ears.
A nervous chuckle escaped her, "...Oops?"