Thank you all for taking the time to read and review this chapter! Your feedback means a lot to me and helps keep the creative fire alive. I'm excited to let you know that the next update will be coming sooner than later, so stay tuned for more. I appreciate your support and can't wait to share the next installment with you!
Happy reading!
Spoiler Alert: This chapter takes you on an emotional journey with an unexpected twist at the end. Be sure to read it all the way through!
Minato let out a deep, tired sigh, his breath visible in the cool evening air. The sky above was fading into night, with shades of purple, red, and orange blending together. He was late.
Kneeling down carefully, he began to gather the training tools scattered around. The hard ground was rough against his knees. A chipped wooden kunai, its edges jagged from many falls, caught the dim light as he dropped it into his bag. Beside it, a worn shuriken, once sharp but now dull, went in as well. Near his feet, a crumpled practice scroll lay torn and dirty. He packed everything with steady hands, trying to ignore the growing feeling of dread tightening in his chest.
Minato clenched his fists, his nails digging painfully into his palms as the familiar surge of anger bubbled up inside him. He hated how powerless he felt, hated that, despite everything he tried, there was still nothing he could do. The head of the orphanage never seemed to care—she never noticed the way the children drifted through each day, hollow and hopeless. Minato saw it all too well—how so many of the kids just wanted to escape, desperate to end their pain in the only way they knew.
The most horrible crime anyone can commit against.
At just five years old, Minato had already witnessed more suffering than most people would experience in a lifetime. The world outside was consumed by war, but inside the orphanage, a quieter, more insidious war raged on.
Children didn't simply vanish; they crumbled, slowly falling apart under the crushing weight of their loneliness. Minato had learned the word "suicidal" far too early—not from books or lessons, but from watching the older kids give up, one after another, unable to bear their suffering any longer.
His breath hitched as his mind unwillingly returned to that night—the night he found Yoriichi. His roommate. His friend. Yoriichi's body had been sprawled across the cold, wooden floor of their shared room.
Blood—so much blood—pooled beneath him, thick and dark, staining the floorboards. The deep gashes on his wrists were crude and jagged, a painful testament to his desperation in those final moments. Minato had frozen, a small, terrified boy staring at the horror before him. His hands shook as he rushed to Yoriichi's side, pressing his fingers against the wounds, feeling the warmth of the blood slipping through his fingers—slipping beyond his control.
By some miracle, he had dragged Yoriichi to the hospital in time, and the crimson trail forever burned into his memory. But the weight of that night clung to him, like a suffocating blanket, reminding him just how close he had come to losing someone he cared about. The image of Yoriichi's lifeless face, his pale skin smeared with blood, haunted Minato even now, especially in the quiet moments, like this one.
"Yoriichi…" Minato whispered, his voice barely audible as his throat tightened with emotion. His hands gripped the strap of his bag so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "I swear, I'll make things right." His eyes narrowed with a fierce, unwavering determination. "When I become Hokage, I'll fix it all. I'll tear that place apart if I have to. I'll get strong—so strong that no child will ever have to suffer like this again. Not while I'm here."
It was a vow he had made to himself more times than he could count, yet it never lost its weight. If anything, each time he repeated it, the promise felt stronger, more real.
His heart pounded with the intensity of his resolve. He hadn't seen Yoriichi since that night, since the doctors carried him away.
He didn't even know if Yoriichi had woken up yet. But that didn't matter. Minato would make sure that his friend's suffering, and the suffering of every child trapped in that awful place, wouldn't be for nothing.
Minato let out a deep breath, unfitting a child his age, the sound long and weary as he trudged down the deserted path he reluctantly called 'home.'
The narrow dirt trail, flanked by the thick trees of the surrounding forest, seemed to grow colder with each passing moment as evening descended. A chill snaked its way beneath his clothes, causing him to shiver, while the forest around him devoured the last traces of daylight. Shadows stretched ominously across the ground, and the distant hoot of an owl echoed through the stillness—a lonely sound that only deepened his sense of isolation.
The orphanage was tucked far from the bustling heart of the village—too far, Minato thought for what felt like the hundredth time.
It was as if the children had been banished, pushed to the edges of Konoha, far from its warmth and life.
He often wondered if that distance was intentional, a form of silent cruelty imposed by the Runner, the woman who made each day a struggle. He suspected she thrived on the isolation, using the orphanage's remoteness to conceal the neglect that festered within its crumbling walls.
Outside, the world was choked by chaos, death, and destruction—the war had only deepened the despair.
While distant battlefields echoed with explosions and screams, the orphanage felt like a tomb—silent, forgotten, and suffocating.
It was a different kind of battle, one fought with neglect and isolation, where the wounds were invisible but no less painful.
Food was scarce, and with tensions running high, the prospect of adoption felt like a distant dream. Families were struggling to feed their own, let alone take in another mouth. The orphanage, once a forgotten corner of the village, had grown even bleaker, filled with children who had lost not just their homes — they had lost hope…
For them, No one visited, no one cared.
Minato's memory of the last adult who crossed those doors was a vague blur. It had been two years ago, back when he was just four, and even then, the visitor hadn't lingered. The Runner had made sure of that; her sharp words and icy demeanor sent him packing before he could even step inside.
Since that day, it had been just the children left to navigate their days under her cold, watchful gaze.
Bitterness toward her had only deepened with time, fueling a sense of helplessness that wrapped around him like a shroud. How could someone meant to protect them and treat them as if they were nothing more than a burden? The anger simmered just beneath the surface, flaring to life at the mere thought of her.
But despite the odds stacked against him, something within Minato refused to surrender.
Each night, as he lay awake on his thin mattress, he promised himself he would escape this place. One day, he would prove he was more than just another forgotten child.
Rumors whispered through the streets that the war was nearing its end. Perhaps, Minato thought, a glimmer of hope sparking in his chest, things would finally change. When peace returned, maybe someone would care enough to look his way. Perhaps the orphanage would no longer be a shadowy afterthought, and the children inside could finally be recognized for what they were—just children, deserving of love instead of neglect.
No one visited. No one cared. But maybe, that would soon change.
With that fleeting thought lingering in his mind, Minato pressed on, the forest growing darker around him.
The crunch of the earth beneath his feet was the only sound accompanying the weight of his heart, heavy yet resolute. Shadows lengthened as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an eerie glow over the path ahead.
He kept walking until the field gave way to a dilapidated building rising on the horizon, its rooms serving as somber reminders of better days. The structure stood as a skeletal shadow of its former self, marred by crumbling walls, shattered windows, and encroaching mold. Overgrown weeds overtook the grounds, adding to the pervasive sense of abandonment.
Minato paused, his gaze lingering on the place he had known as home for as long as he could remember. Yet it had never truly been a home—just a cold, impersonal shelter.
Memories of isolation and neglect echoed through its empty corridors, a constant reminder of the loneliness he had endured. He had long doubted it would ever be anything more, and the weight of that realization pressed heavily upon him.
The orphanage seemed deserted; the other children were likely huddled inside, gathering around their meager dinners. But as Minato approached the door, a subtle tug washed over him, like a faint light flickering in the darkness, drawing him in. It stirred a hesitant glimmer of hope within him.
Trusting his instincts—a skill honed from months of basic Shinobi training—Minato stepped inside.
The air was thick with the musty scent of decay; the faint, floral aroma of wildflowers reclaiming the front lawn added a strange contrast. Shadows played across the walls, and the silence was occasionally broken by the distant rustling of leaves.
A subtle shift had occurred within these walls, and Minato felt it deeply. A spark of hope, faint yet unmistakable, stirred within him.
Something had changed. He could sense it.
The air felt different tonight—lighter, almost clean. It lacked the oppressive, cloying sweetness of the Runner's perfume that usually smothered the orphanage.
Minato paused at the threshold, breathing in the unfamiliar freshness. Something had shifted, and it pricked at his sharp instincts.
As he reached for the door and pushed it open, there was no creak—just a smooth, almost eerie silence.
Odd
That door had always groaned as if it were alive, a sound he had grown accustomed to over the years. But now, it glided open without a sound.
His gaze swept across the dimly lit hall, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Then he saw it—the main desk, typically cluttered with papers, trinkets, and the Runner's personal effects, stood completely bare.
All her things were gone.
A wave of unease washed over him, settling heavily in his chest.
No one ever dared touch the Runner's belongings; it was an unspoken rule she enforced ruthlessly.
Once, a child had merely brushed against the desk, and she had retaliated with brutal force, unleashing a storm of fury that left him bruised and battered. For an entire week, he had been denied food, forced to watch as the others ate their meager portions, the gnawing hunger gnawing at his insides while he lay shivering on the cold floor, a painful reminder of her power.
Yet now, the desk sat empty, as if the Runner's iron grip had suddenly loosened.
'Why now?' Minato's thoughts raced, trying to piece together the mystery. Something significant had shifted.
He wasn't one to overlook details like this. His mind was always whirring, always seeking solutions. It was how he had survived here—by observing and anticipating.
Adults often called it being "wise beyond his years," but for Minato, it was simply how his brain processed the world around him, dissecting every situation to make sense of it.
Find the pieces. Make sense of them.
He enjoyed puzzles; they felt familiar and predictable. Unlike the orphanage, where negativity lurked around every corner.
Holding his bag close, he moved through the hall, instinctively avoiding any chance of being noticed. He didn't want to attract attention, not now, with a heavy, unsettling feeling in the air. His footsteps were light, and he knew that if the Runner caught him sneaking around at this hour, the consequences would be brutal.
Room 301 was on the top floor, and he faced a long climb ahead. Each step past the rows of closed doors amplified the silence. The silence was oppressive. The usual murmur of the other children, the creaking of the aging structure, even the distant clatter of dinner plates—all of it was muted tonight as if the heart of the orphanage had been swallowed by some unseen force.
This isn't right.
The thought intruded unexpectedly, a chill creeping down his spine. He had learned to trust his instincts, and right now, they warned him that something was wrong.
The walls, once familiar in their decaying state, now loomed ominously around him. The flickering lights overhead did little to ease the feeling of dread gnawing at his stomach. It was as if the orphanage itself was holding its breath, waiting for something.
Or Someone.
Yet, amidst the unease, there was something else—a flicker of possibility. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Minato could feel it, like a small glimmer of light piercing the deepest darkness.
'Why now?' he wondered again. What had shifted in this suffocating, unforgiving place?
He paused for a moment, allowing the strange sensation to wash over him. Then, with his heart pounding a little faster, he quickened his pace. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just a quiet night.
The doors stood ajar, each revealing the stark emptiness within—just a single small bed in each. While there was usually something—anything—to show that life still stirred within these walls.
It was their silent way of clinging to some silver of identity.
As Minato's pace quickened, a growing sense of dread knotted in his stomach. Every room he passed was the same—stripped bare and hollow, devoid of any trace of life. The air was thick and musty with the scent of mildew and decay, suffocating in its stillness. A knot tightened in his chest as panic threatened to overtake him. He dropped his bag without a second thought, urgency propelling him toward the cafeteria.
There had to be someone.
"They're just eating dinner," he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible, as if speaking them louder would make his fear more real. His voice wavered, betraying his growing fear.
The emptiness couldn't be real, could it? The children had to be in the cafeteria, just eating—surely, that had to be it, anything else was unthinkable. But even as he clung to that fragile hope, an unsettling truth gnawed at him. Deep down, he already had an idea of what awaited him behind the splintered door.
His fingers shook as they gripped the heavy handle, and the door creaked open, the sound echoing unnaturally sharp in the silence. Minato's eyes swept across the room, his heart sinking as he took in the rows of perfectly aligned, empty tables. The room was completely deserted.
Not a single soul in sight.
He was alone.
For a long moment, Minato stood frozen, the weight of realization pressing down on him. His mind raced, but the moment felt frozen. The oppressive silence engulfed him, filling the void where pain, voices, and life once thrived. He blinked slowly, hoping the room would somehow change, but it stayed the same. The desolation was absolute.
A hollow ache spread through his chest, and the world felt colder and distant. He let out a shaky breath and turned away from the barren room. It was clear now—there was nothing left for him here. He would have to gather his things and leave this place before night swallowed the day.
He couldn't afford to dwell on these disheartening events. His disciplined Academy training took over, guiding him with sharp clarity and precision born from necessity. His mind, always sharp and analytical, focused on the immediate tasks at hand.
Finding an apartment seemed like the most practical solution. It would be affordable and, more importantly, a place that was truly his—a sanctuary he could call home.
The thought might have sparked some comfort, but instead, it only deepened the chasm of loneliness that weighed heavily on him. The idea of creating a personal refuge felt unreachable, like a distant dream.
Minato found his bag where he had left it—a crumpled heap on the floor, mirroring his own sense of abandonment. He picked it up with detached fingers, the fabric rough and cold, echoing the chill of his reality.
As he ascended the stairs, his footsteps reverberated with a steady, rhythmic cadence against the concrete, each echo amplifying the isolation that hung over the orphanage. The silence clung to him, thick and oppressive, making the desolation even more palpable.
'Funny,' he mused with a wistful, bittersweet smile. 'This place always reminded me of a deserted hospital, with its unsettling silence and the rooms packed so closely together that they suffocated individuality. But now... it feels more like a morgue—oppressive, a final resting place for forgotten hopes and dreams, where the air itself seems weighed down by abandoned ambitions.'
By the time he reached the third floor, Minato was already mentally sorting through his few belongings and the modest collection of coins he had painstakingly saved. This meager treasure, earned through countless small efforts, represented a faint spark of hope in an otherwise bleak situation.
It was more than most of the other orphans had, but still far from enough to secure a proper place to stay. The harsh reality that his savings wouldn't guarantee him a safe haven made the journey ahead feel even more daunting.
He shook his head, trying to devise a solution. Minato strained to push away the suffocating silence and the overwhelming sense of isolation that clung to him like a heavy fog as he neared his door. His eyes remained fixed on the worn floorboards, each step dragging him deeper into despair.
Suddenly, a sharp noise shattered the stillness. Minato's head snapped up, his pulse racing as his eyes darted around for the source. His gaze locked onto a faint, eerie light seeping from beneath the door of Room 301.
Relief flickered in his chest—perhaps someone had returned, and the light was a beacon of hope. But that comfort was swiftly eclipsed by a surge of icy dread. Could the other kids, driven by desperation, be after what little he had left?
'No, they wouldn't get away with it!'
His academy bag, containing most of his belongings, was securely slung over his shoulder. His thoughts darted to Yoriichi's few treasured items—things modest in value but immense in personal significance. The idea of those being taken ignited a fierce, protective anger within him.
Were they really prepared to steal from a boy who had already been so vulnerable and sick? The thought tightened his chest and fueled a burning resolve. Not while he could still fight.
With his heart pounding like a war drum, Minato steeled himself for the inevitable confrontation. Every muscle coiled in readiness as he approached the door, his steps deliberate and heavy with determination. He kicked it open, and the splintering wood, along with the sudden rush of cold air, echoed his ferocity. If he were to face whatever awaited him beyond that door, he would do so with unwavering resolve and an unflinching gaze.
What Minato didn't expect was for Yoriichi to let out a high-pitched, very unmanly borderline girly scream and fall on his ass when the door slammed against the wall with a loud bang. The sound of his shriek echoed through the silent hallway, and for a moment, Minato stood frozen, eyes wide with shock.
Panic kicked in.
"Oh no! Yoriichi! I'm so sorry!" Minato practically flew across the room, skidding to his knees beside his friend. His hands hovered over Yoriichi, unsure where to start. "Kami, please be okay! I didn't mean to scare you! Don't die on me."
Yoriichi, who was still sprawled out on the floor, blinked up at him, bewildered. Then, despite himself, he let out a low groan, rubbing his back where he had landed. "Well, that was one way to make an entrance," he mumbled, slowly pushing himself up, though his legs seemed less than cooperative. "You just about gave me a heart attack! But hey, who needs a working heart anyway? I hear they're overrated!"
He grinned, trying to shake off the shock as he stretched like a cat, legs wobbling beneath him. "Next time, maybe try knocking? Or at least give me a heads-up before you bust down the door like you're auditioning for a ninja action movie!"
"I swear, I didn't know you were here!" Minato's voice cracked with the kind of panic only a guilty friend could feel. "Are you sure you're okay? I don't have medical supplies, but maybe I could find some herbs or something?" He squinted, already mentally preparing for a wilderness adventure to forage for herbs like an ancient herbalist.
Yoriichi, now standing, burst into hearty laughter, holding his sides. "Herbs? Really? You're going to start picking plants like some monk in the mountains?" He wiped away a tear, his wild black hair sticking out in all directions from his laughter. "I swear, Minato, you're one peculiar guy." He doubled over again, unable to stop himself, and for a moment, Minato just stood there, watching his friend laugh, the sound filling the room with a warmth that had been missing for far too long.
Minato's face flushed, but he couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. "Hey, herbs can be useful, you know," he said, half-defensively.
Minato felt an unexpected wave of nostalgia hit him. When was the last time he'd seen Yoriichi smile like this? It felt like ages. The usual carefree grin had been replaced by something far darker, and Minato hadn't even noticed it creeping in until it was almost too late.
Now, watching Yoriichi laugh so hard that he was snorting, a knot of emotion tightened in Minato's chest. He forced a smile, but it didn't feel quite right. "I'm glad my entrance nearly gave you a heart attack for your entertainment," he muttered dryly, though there was a trace of relief in his tone.
Yoriichi waved his hand dismissively, still chuckling. "Oh, come on. It's been a while since I've had a reason to laugh like that. If you wanna go kicking doors down more often, be my guest. But that's the last time you'll catch me off guard."
Minato raised an eyebrow. "Maybe next time I'll give you a warning knock. Wouldn't want to be responsible for giving you a stroke or something." He crossed his arms, attempting to look casual, though the tension from earlier still clung to him, refusing to fully let go.
The humor was a thin veil over what had happened in the last few months. Minato hadn't forgotten how he'd nearly lost Yoriichi—how close his best friend had come to giving up entirely. And while seeing him laugh now should have filled Minato with relief, it only made him more aware of how fragile everything had become.
Still, Minato couldn't help but grin at the absurdity of it all. Yoriichi was tall, lanky, and clumsy as ever. His wild black hair stuck up like he'd just rolled out of bed after a fight with a mattress. In some ways, Yoriichi hadn't changed a bit, but in others, he felt like a completely different person.
"You know," Yoriichi said after a moment, his grin fading into something softer and more genuine, "you don't need to worry so much. I'm still me. Just... a little more messed up, that's all."
Minato's heart ached at those words, but he shrugged, trying to keep the mood light. "Messed up or not, I still have to protect my stuff from you. I mean, who knows what you might do with my precious treasures?"
Yoriichi snorted, feigning indignation. "What belongings? That ancient shirt you keep in your drawer? Please, no one's touching that thing—it's probably cursed. I'd rather face a rabid raccoon than get anywhere near your fashion statement."
Minato couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "Cursed, huh? You've been spending too much time reading those ghost stories. What are you, a horror aficionado now?"
"Hey, they're good stories! Besides, who else would read them with me?" Yoriichi shot back, crossing his arms in mock indignation. "You're lucky I even tolerate your taste in books."
For a brief moment, the weight of everything that had happened seemed to lift. It left behind only the two of them—best friends, laughing like they used to. Yet, as they laughed, a nagging feeling tugged at Minato—things would never be quite the same again.
The quiet that followed was thick with unspoken words, and an unaddressed tension hung in the air that neither of them seemed ready to address. Minato tried to force a smile in return, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
His mind was still reeling from the memory of Yoriichi lying in that hospital bed, and now here he was, smiling as if none of it had ever happened. The sight twisted Minato's stomach into knots, filling him with uncertainty. The silence between them felt louder than any words, amplifying the weight of their shared past.
But lingering questions gnawed at the back of Minato's mind. Where had the Orphanage Runner gone? And what about the other orphans? Their sudden absence left an unsettling void in the building, heightening his sense of unease. Why was it only Yoriichi who remained?
Things were starting to become a puzzle to him, and he loved puzzles—he just needed the pieces.
"What's going on? Where is everyone? And why are you here?" Minato asked, his voice steady despite the unease coiling in his stomach. As he gently helped Yoriichi onto the bed, his touch was careful and deliberate, as if he were handling something fragile. He searched Yoriichi's face for answers, his heart pounding in the heavy silence that hung between them.
Yoriichi remained quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting thoughtfully to the shadows cast by the dim light in their room. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words, before a grin slowly spread across his face, illuminating his features with a warmth that Minato had missed deeply.
"Well, I guess the others are in their new house, getting the best rooms," he replied, his voice light yet tinged with an undercurrent of nostalgia as if he were reminiscing about a world he could no longer touch.
New house? Minato thought, a flicker of anxiety igniting within him. Did someone tell on that no-good Runner? Before he could voice his concerns, Yoriichi placed a bag on the bed, his face alight with an expression he had never seen in his six short years.
"I'm here getting packed so I can go straight home when my new caretaker gets here!" Yoriichi declared, excitement radiating from him like a beacon.
Minato felt his breath hitch, the reality of his friend's words crashing over him like a wave. It seemed Yoriichi had somehow been adopted. While he should have felt happy for him, an unexpected surge of jealousy clawed at his insides. The thought of his friend leaving him behind coiled tightly in his gut, a painful reminder that as Yoriichi found a family, he remained on the sidelines, yearning for the kind of happiness families seemed to have.
'And now he doesn't even have a best friend with whom to share those wishes anymore. Worse still, he didn't even know where the new house was.'
Still, he had to pretend for Yoriichi's sake. Despite his own turmoil, he genuinely wanted to support his friend.
Yet, the gnawing envy whispered that he should be the one to leave this place. Minato wasn't going to ruin this moment with his feelings; he would shove that green monster aside for later.
Forcing a smile that felt foreign on his face, he began helping Yoriichi fold clothes and place them in the bag resting on the bed.
"Really? That's great! So, have you met your new caretaker yet? Is he cool?" he asked, trying to infuse his voice with enthusiasm. Luckily, his friend saw only Minato's façade of joy.
"Yeah! I met him in the hospital. He told me my wait was finally over, and I was finally going to meet my family." Yoriichi's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and his voice took on a distant tone, sending a chill down Minato's spine.
"Isn't that amazing? But… it's just so weird that you're, like, really going home when everyone else is also gone," Minato said, trying to shake off the eerie feeling.
Yoriichi chuckled softly. His laughter was a gentle echo that lingered in the air, almost as if it belonged to another time. "Well, you know how it is. Sometimes, it's the quiet ones who wait the longest." His voice faltered slightly, betraying the guilt that tugged at his heart for leaving Minato behind.
Minato forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. "Yeah, but you're not quiet! You're the loudest one I know!" he joked, hoping to lighten the mood.
Yoriichi's grin faltered for just a heartbeat as he looked away, sorrow flickering across his face. "Yeah, I guess I am," he said softly, his voice trailing off as he stared into the distance, lost in thoughts that Minato could only guess at. What was his new caretaker like? Would he be kind, or was he just another stranger?
As Minato resumed packing, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, but he pushed it aside, too focused on supporting his friend. After all, Yoriichi was still here—right now, that was all that mattered. He had to be strong—for Yoriichi's sake. There'd be time to deal with his own feelings later.
(10 Minutes Later)
As they finished packing, Minato couldn't help but notice how quiet the room had become. The silence was suffocating, almost as if the air around them felt thick and still. He watched Yoriichi carefully fold the last of his clothes, the simple act filling Minato's chest with a strange hollowness.
He should be happy for his friend, but instead, all he could feel was a dull ache—a mix of sadness and envy swirling inside him. Yoriichi was leaving. And Minato? He would be left behind in a place that had never felt like home.
Yoriichi stood up, swinging the packed bag over his shoulder with a small grunt. He looked around the room as if taking in the space one last time. "Well, I guess that's everything," he said softly, glancing at Minato with a faint, bittersweet smile. "Feels strange. Moving on?"
Minato nodded, though he couldn't quite bring himself to look Yoriichi in the eye. "Yeah, strange," he muttered. The words felt hollow, like a chasm echoing in his stomach. It was more than strange. It was painful. But he buried that feeling deep down, hiding it behind a mask of indifference. He wasn't going to make Yoriichi feel guilty. This was his moment, after all.
Yoriichi, however, caught the tension in Minato's posture, sensing that something was off. He looked at Minato for a long moment, his brows furrowing slightly in concern. He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Hey," he began, his tone quieter now. You're gonna be okay, you know that, right?"
Minato forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course," he said quickly, a veneer of cheerfulness masking his inner turmoil. "I'll be fine. You don't have to worry about me."
Yoriichi chuckled lightly, though a hint of sadness tugged at the corners of his lips. "I don't know. You've always been terrible at hiding how you really feel."
Minato's heart skipped a beat at that, his breath catching momentarily, but he shrugged it off, forcing a casual grin to mask the turmoil brewing inside. "Yeah, well, I'm getting better at it," he said, half-jokingly.
Yoriichi's smile faltered for just a moment, his eyes clouded with unspoken emotions before he spoke again. "Minato, no matter what happens... we'll always be connected. I won't be far, even if you think I am."
The words made Minato pause. There was something in Yoriichi's tone that felt like a shadow lurking just out of sight, unsettling Minato, but he shook it off. He wasn't going to let himself dwell on it now. "Yeah," he agreed, trying to keep the mood light. "You better not forget about me."
Yoriichi grinned again, though this time it seemed a little forced. "Forget you? That's impossible."
Minato laughed, the sound more for Yoriichi's sake than his own. But as they continued talking, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had been building since the start of their conversation. There was something in Yoriichi's tone, something in the way he moved, that didn't quite sit right. It was almost like... no. He pushed the thought away. He was just being ridiculous.
Finally, the time came for Yoriichi to leave. He made his way toward the door, bag in hand, but before stepping out, he paused, turning to Minato one last time as if savoring the last moments they had together. "I guess this is goodbye, huh?" he said quietly, the words hanging heavily in the air between them, like a fragile thread ready to snap.
Minato swallowed hard, trying to fight back the lump in his throat. He had told himself he wouldn't get emotional, that he'd be strong for Yoriichi's sake, but now that the moment had come, it was harder than he'd imagined. "Yeah... I guess it is," he murmured.
Yoriichi hesitated at the door, his hand resting on the knob. He glanced back at Minato, his expression unreadable. "Take care of yourself, okay? And remember, I'm always around... even if you don't see me."
Minato frowned slightly at the odd phrasing but didn't say anything. Instead, he forced another smile. "I'll be fine," he said softly. "You just... take care too."
With one last lingering glance, Yoriichi nodded. Then, with a quiet sigh, he opened the door and stepped through, the soft creak of the hinges the only sound in the room.
And just like that, Yoriichi was gone.
The room suddenly felt colder, and emptier, as Minato stood there, staring at the closed door. For a moment, he didn't move or speak; he just stood frozen in place. Something gnawed at him—an unsettling feeling he couldn't quite explain. He shook it off, telling himself it was merely the sadness of saying goodbye to his best friend.
Yet, deep down, Minato couldn't shake the sensation that this farewell had been different, that Yoriichi's departure wasn't just another chapter in their lives. Something had changed, but what... he couldn't quite place.
But it will be found out soon…
Minato walked through the storm, moving without thinking. His feet took him to the Hokage Monument, but he didn't know why. The cold rain soaked him, but he hardly noticed. It was better than sitting in the orphanage, watching other kids get adopted while he was left behind.
When he reached the top, he sat on Hokage Rock, drenched. The storm around him matched the storm inside—angry, sad, and hopeless. He hugged his knees, looking down at the village, feeling distant.
Why not me?
The thought repeated in his mind. Why am I the one left behind? Even Yoriichi found a family. What's wrong with me?
Yoriichi, his best friend, was a bright spot in his life. While Minato was shy and often in the shadows, Yoriichi pulled him into the light. But Minato didn't know about the dark thoughts Yoriichi was hiding.
This lack of awareness hurt him deeply. Dragging a bloodied Yoriichi to the hospital, Minato thought bitterly.
It wasn't the first time he'd seen something like this; he had noticed it before. Some of the older boys at the orphanage had felt the same way. He heard them whispering late at night about how they couldn't handle the loneliness anymore. Some even tried to escape it.' Is that the only way out?'
The idea lingered, growing heavier as the rain continued to pour. 'Maybe they were right...' he thought, his chest tightening. 'Maybe that's all there is for someone like me.'
He tried to shake the thought, but it stuck.
'No one's ever going to want me.'
'Maybe I'll always be alone.'
Every time an orphan committed the unthinkable act of taking their own life, it felt like another piece of him broke off.
The statues of the Hokage behind him seemed so distant—strong, unbreakable. But Minato? He felt weak, and fragile, like he didn't matter.
'I'm just a kid nobody wants.'
He pressed his face into his knees, the tears finally coming as the weight of it all crushed him. The rain hid his sobs, but nothing could hide the pain he felt inside. 'Maybe that's why I like the rain... no one can see me cry.'
But even that small thought didn't comfort him anymore.
The idea of ending it, as some of the other boys had tried, lingered in the back of his mind, whispering that it could all be over, that he wouldn't have to feel this way anymore.
The rain pounded harder against Minato as if the storm itself could sense the turmoil inside him. His chest felt heavy, the ache of loneliness growing stronger with each passing second.
'Maybe this is it,' he thought, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over him.
'Maybe there's no point in holding on anymore.'
He stood up slowly, his legs shaky, and walked to the edge of the Hokage Monument. Below him, the village stretched out, but it didn't feel like his home.
It never had.
He was just a forgotten kid in an orphanage. No one would miss him. 'Would they even notice?'
The thought of all the other boys who had felt the same way came back to him. He remembered their faces, the hopelessness in their eyes. Some of them had tried to escape the pain, and now he wondered if they were right. 'Maybe this really is the only way out.
Minato stared down at the drop below, the wind pushing against him, the rain blurring his vision. The world felt so far away, and for a moment, it seemed like letting go would be easier than continuing to hurt.
'I'm tired of feeling like this, he thought. I'm tired of being left behind.'
He took a deep breath, feeling the cold air fill his lungs. His heart raced, fear creeping in, but alongside it was a strange sense of relief.
'If I do this, the pain will stop. I won't have to watch everyone leave anymore. I won't be alone.'
His hands clenched into fists, trying to hold onto any reason to stay, but nothing came. No one was coming to save him. No one ever had.
Without another thought, Minato stepped forward.
For a brief moment, time seemed to slow. The wind rushed past him, the rain hitting him like icy needles as he fell. His mind was blank, no more thoughts of doubt or fear—just silence, an empty kind of peace as he surrendered to the drop.
The world around him seemed to fade into nothingness. For a moment, he hung in the air, weightless, as if the storm had paused with him. Then, gravity took hold, and he began to fall.
The wind howled in his ears, deafening, as his body plummeted through the rain-soaked air. His stomach twisted, and a sickening sensation of weightlessness made his chest tighten. The village below blurred, the ground rushing up to meet him faster than he could process.
For a fleeting second, fear flickered in his heart, but it was quickly drowned out by the numbness that had taken over.
'Is this it?' he wondered, his thoughts surprisingly calm. Is this where everything ends?
The rain lashed against his skin, cold and sharp, but it was distant—almost as if he wasn't really there. His limbs felt heavy, his mind drifting in and out of focus as he fell further. The storm roared around him, but inside, Minato felt...
...Quiet.
A strange stillness had settled over him like he was watching the world from a distance.
The ground below came closer and closer, but he didn't brace himself. He just let go, his body surrendering to the inevitable.
'Maybe this is what peace feels like...'
Author's Note:
Mwahahaha! 😈 I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because things are about to take a dark turn! You thought that was the worst? Oh, trust me, the real chaos is only just beginning! What will happen next? You'll just have to wait and see… if you can handle it. 😏
Stay tuned for the next chapter—coming soon! Or maybe not… evil laugh fades into the shadows 😈💀