Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They’ve reached the end of the line. 

There’s no getting around the reality of things. The sun rises from the east, Naruto’s first love will always be ramen, and the shinobi alliance lost the war well over a year ago. These are simply the facts of life. 

By this point, when they’ve spent the better part of a year constantly on the run from Kaguya’s forces, most of them are really just waiting for all of this to end. It has been three weeks since the remaining hundred-or-so of what used to be the alliance have found themselves hiding out in the ruins of Uzushio, the barrier around the entire island shielding them for now thanks to Naruto and Karin’s Uzu blood. These three weeks have been the most rest any of them have gotten since probably the start of the war, and the general consensus seems to be that this would not be such a bad place to be laid to rest when the alternative is to leave and likely be turned into one of Kaguya’s mindless Zetsu soldiers. 

Everyone here—from the eldest at age fifty-seven to the youngest at eight—knows that they’re just biding time until the inevitable. They’ve lost their strategists and most of their heavy hitters. There’s nowhere else they could go where the Rabbit Goddess would not immediately find them. At long last, they’ve exhausted every contingency, every trick, every surprise. Short of a suicide stand, there frankly isn’t anything anyone can do anymore. 

To die on the shores of the island of Uzushio, amidst the most peace and quiet they will likely ever have again, would be a kindness indeed. 

Naruto is perfectly sick of it.

The stench of hopelessness in the air tastes rancid on his tongue and he turns away from the stillness of it all with distaste. People look at him with sympathetic eyes, telling him it’s okay—it was always going to happen, and he should make his peace with it while he still has the facade of a choice. 

Well, call him a troublemaker till the end, but Naruto has never been good at doing what he’s told, and he certainly isn’t about to start now.

If he’s going to go down (and regardless of how bitter he is about it, he can at least admit that he will be going down), then he’s going to go kicking and screaming, fighting until his last fucking breath. 

As it turns out, Uzushiogakure is an excellent resource to aid him with this particular ambition. 

Initially, they stayed away from a good portion of the island because what happened here was essentially a bloodbath and no one ever really did anything about it. This was mostly because of the fact that only descendants of Uzu or those keyed in by them could even breach the insane barrier that protects Uzushio. However, the few survivors that remained had been scattered all over the continent and were in no hurry to come back to the ruins where they might get picked off by any enemies keeping an eye on what used to be their home. 

As soon as his resolve is hardened, however, Naruto enters the city of Uzushio proper to discover that the Uzumaki were absolute hardasses and that fuuinjutsu really is just madness given a written form. Under what presumably used to be a city hall of sorts is a cavern that only allows entry via a blood seal to those descended from the Uzumaki main line, and in that cavern is a library of sorts, containing piles upon piles of scrolls preserved under stasis, depicting seals that make his head spin from just looking at them.

But Naruto is nothing if not too stubborn for his own good and he buckles down to really put his all into tearing through the information the library has to offer with all the delicacy of a hurricane. 

Admittedly, Naruto has never attempted to incorporate sealing into his fighting style like the Uzushio shinobi or even Tenten and Sai did. He’d only begun learning because Jiraiya had insisted that he needed to know how to alter his own seal in case anything ever happened. At the time, he’d enjoyed discovering how many different ways there are to blow something up if one isn’t afraid of a bit of creativity, but he never bothered to pursue it further because he is enough of a powerhouse by himself that he just didn’t need the edge of fuuinjutsu in his already explosive arsenal. 

That he doesn't he ever forgot or neglected the art though. If he has the time, he still enjoys playing around with altering seals just to see what will happen. Some of his versions of explosive tags and barrier seals have been downright nasty. In a way, it’s a common legacy from his clan, his parents and his teachers. Naruto tries to honour that. 

And good thing he does because the veritable treasure trove in the cavern would have been completely lost on him otherwise, and they would have missed out on what Naruto fondly calls his final fuck you to Kaguya. 

“A time travel seal,” Sakura says numbly, staring at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw once she finally comprehends the excited tirade he has just finished throwing at her. 

“A time travel seal,” Naruto confirms, grinning with a mouth full of teeth, eyes manic. 

Sasuke sighs, immediately giving up on trying to make sense of anything that comes out of Naruto’s mouth. “Of-fucking-course.”

Recovering with the remarkable speed and composure of someone who has been exposed to Naruto's particular brand of bullshit for far too long, Sakura blinks and clears her throat. “You said this is a kinjutsu?”

Naruto bobs his head in confirmation. “Yeah, because it requires too much chakra for it to work unless like a whole bunch of people power it, and even then, it might just end up killing them all.”

“And you want us to attempt this?” Sasuke asks dryly, eyeing the monstrosity on the scroll like it might come alive and challenge him to a death match at any given moment. Given Sasuke's track record with seals, Naruto doesn't really blame him for being wary. 

“Well,” Sakura says, eyes narrowed in thought, “between the three of us, it’s not that implausible.”

See, this is why he thought he was in love with Sakura when he was a kid. She gets it. 

Naruto’s grin widens. “Exactly!” he crows. “We might be the only people who could ever pull it off. Forbidden jutsu don’t exactly account for jinchuuriki, the byakugo seal, or whatever the fuck is up with Sasuke’s naturally freakish chakra reserves.”

Rolling his eyes, Sasuke aims a swift kick to Naruto’s shin. “I can’t believe we’re having a genuine conversation about time travel,” he mutters, shaking his head. 

“I mean, it’s basically the only thing we haven’t tried at this point,” Naruto points out. 

Sasuke purses his lips, the pinched weariness of a long battle on his face. “True.”

Sakura hums, eyeing the seal intently. “If we’re going to attempt to send anyone, it will have to be Naruto.”

“Wait, for real?”

“Probably for the best.” Sasuke shrugs. “You’d be the most motivated to save the world in a way that might actually work. My moral compass is too skewed and Sakura's is even more questionable.”

For a long moment of potent silence, Sakura stares at Sasuke contemplatively, like she’s calculating exactly how much force and chakra she’d need to try and punt him into outer space right now. She blinks slowly, visibly decides to choose peace today, and clinically turns back to the task at hand. “You said this is a blood seal that works by linking a bloodline through time.”

Naruto nods. “Yeah, so it’d send you back to a time when your closest biological relative is around your current age.”

Sakura taps at the table. “Exactly. Which would be our parents’ youth for all of us, around the Third Great Shinobi War. Mine were civilians, so I wouldn’t have the right political leverage to bully the shinobi world into peace, and it would be too complicated for Sasuke-kun to pose as a missing Uchiha returning the the village with all this power in hand as a nineteen-year-old.”

She doesn’t say that they stand the additional risk of only being able to send Sasuke to a time when he’d be the same age as Itachi, which would not only be too make any useful changes, but also incredibly cruel to Sasuke who hasn’t even had the time to really stop and grieve his older brother's death. 

“No one personally knew either of your parents’ families, so it wouldn’t be hard to convince everyone you’re the Yondaime’s long-lost twin or something,” Sasuke muses. “He wouldn’t be Yondaime Hokage yet, but he’d still have the renown of being Konoha’s Yellow Flash and he'd be a popular Hokage candidate already.”

Nodding in agreement, Sakura adds, “And you could use Uzushio as a home base if you ever need to. You’re our best choice.”

They’re silent for a moment as they look from the seal to each other, the reality of it finally sinking in now that they have the beginnings of a plan starting to take form. 

“Are we really doing this?” Sakura asks quietly, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly like the exhaustion of everything has caught up to her once again. These days, they can only put their burdens down for so long. 

Naruto winds his arm around her, letting her rest her head on his shoulder wordlessly. Sasuke watches them, solemn and sad. Suddenly, Naruto feels like he’s twelve years old again. 

“We’re not exactly swimming in options,” Sasuke points out. 

Sakura sighs. “And if it doesn’t work?” 

“It’s going to work,” Naruto states decisively. He pauses. “But, just in case, let’s keep this between the three of us. I don’t want to give anyone false hope.”

“But he’s okay with breaking our hearts,” Sasuke comments dryly to Sakura who huffs out a tired laugh.

Naruto scoffs. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about, teme. It’s not like you have a heart to begin with.”

“You wanna go, dobe?” Sasuke challenges, but there’s a smile twitching on his lips and Sakura is rolling her eyes at them, already starting to threaten them into behaving with judicious use of violence, and Naruto grins past the weight in his chest. 

It’s the last moment of lightness they’re going to have before they rip through the seams of reality itself. He settles down to enjoy the warmth of his most precious people for all he’s worth.

Chapter Text

Naruto falls out of the clear skies above Uzushio, twenty-two years in the past, and groans in lament at his terrible luck as he plunges through thirty feet of air. As if emotionally charged goodbyes, launching himself through space and time, and dealing with chakra exhaustion of this degree for the first time in his life weren’t each bad enough on their own. 

Scraping through the bottom of his reserves and expending a little more chakra for a minor wind jutsu to redirect and soften his fall has never felt more like inflicting death upon himself. Probably because he's getting uncomfortably close to doing just that. If he loses any more, he's going to risk his organs giving up on him. Naruto vows to himself that he will never make light of those suffering from chakra exhaustion ever again. ‘Sorry, Kakashi-sensei,’ he thinks solemnly, hoping his sincerity will reach the man, wherever he might be in his own Icha Icha-themed corner of the afterlife. 

As much as he wants to lay down in the soft sand and never have to move again, he gets the feeling that if he rests now, he’s going to bypass sleep entirely and go straight to falling into a coma for a few years. So, instead, he pulls out one of Sakura’s specially effective but awful tasting soldier pills and downs it in one go. It takes only a minute for them to start taking effect, boosting his reserves and numbing all the ache that had been plaguing his fatigued body until only seconds ago.

‘Food,’ he thinks, gagging at the taste he has never quite managed to get used to. ‘I’m gonna need food when I wake up.’ And he's going to be too tired and in pain once the effects of the pill wear off to find sustenance then, so it has to be done now while he can still force himself to move. 

Sighing at the prospect of having no clones to aid him, Naruto dutifully catches a few fish and goes about the process of spitting and roasting them. He thinks he’s probably going to be out for at least two or three days while his body recovers from the strain of war and time travel, and he’d rather not accidentally die of starvation or dehydration in that time. 

As he chews on his food, he recites the to-do list he’d drawn up with Sakura and Sasuke to himself. Normally, Naruto is no good at sticking to schedules or doing things by such design, but he can admit that, with the fate of the entire world hanging in the balance, he should probably have the plan to end all plans. 

He’s going to need supplies before he can really do anything else. Right now, all he has are his spare uniform, a storage scroll with a few basic weapons, and Sakura’s best first-aid kit. If he’s going to be running around the Elemental Nations and fucking with the timeline, he’s going to need a lot more than that. To start with, he could probably raid Uzushio for his immediate necessities. Clothes, weapons and there have be rations and nonperishable things lying around somewhere. Now that he has the time, he’s not going to miss out on the chance to comb through all the books and scrolls still preserved on the island either. If he could find a whole functional time travel seal, then there’s no telling what other useful stuff might possibly be out there.

Money might be an issue. He isn’t sure about the currency changes over the years but it’s possible that Uzushio either had their own currency or all the money left on the island is just outdated by now. So, he’ll need to get a job at some point. One that lets him take all the time off he needs to travel around and meddle in Zetsu’s carefully laid out plans while also paying enough to sustain him until he can hopefully join Konoha’s shinobi ranks again. A job that also allows him to build the reputation of a shinobi (because their plan kind of hinges on it) without him actually being affiliated with any shinobi village before he’s ready for it. 

Ergo, Naruto is going to have to become a mercenary. He wrinkles his nose and sighs at the thought of joining the ranks of every mercenary or bounty hunter who has ever been a pain in his ass. There have been several over the years. Well, whatever. For the sake of the greater good and all that. 

But if he’s going to become a famous mercenary (which he will because he knows exactly how good he is), he can’t exactly go parading about as Uzumaki Naruto. He’s still conflicted about this even after listening to the combined lecture he’d received from Sasuke and Sakura about needing to pose as his father’s relative and deflecting the undue attention he’d receive from the people who’d recognise his first name from Jiraiya’s book. Naruto isn't exactly a common name, and logically, orphans don't usually know their last names even if he wanted to say he got it from his mom's side or something. Abandoned Uzumaki kids who still get picked off in Land of Waves, Water and Lightning just for their heritage even less so.

Inhaling deeply, he groans, scrubbing his hands over his face. Okay. Fine. He can do this. He won't steal his future self’s thunder by keeping his awesome name all to himself. He has had Uzumaki Naruto for nineteen years; he supposes he can let it go if it means doing things right and making sure Kaguya’s plans never come to fruition. 

It still leaves a lump in his throat that he can’t seem to swallow past. His name is one of the few things he has ever had of his parents. Even when he had nothing else, he’d had his identity and the legacy it brought with it. He has loved being an Uzumaki—being his mother’s son. But he supposes that him choosing a different name now isn’t going to change that. Even if nobody else will know it, Naruto will always remember where he came from and exactly who he is. That will be enough, right? It will have to be. There's no other choice.

When it really comes down to it, there’s a lot he’s willing to lose for the sake of this mission. He has always known that peace is built upon endless sacrifice, and he’s ready to give whatever it takes. What is the loss of a name to a man who has chosen to change his entire history as he knows it? 

Uzumaki Naruto sighs and lays down to sleep in the first empty house he finds in the city of his dead ancestors, tucking his hurt close to his heart and hardening it into resolve. 

When he wakes up two days later, he is Namikaze Raijin.

Chapter Text

Jiraiya is going to have the mother of all fits. It's going to be a meltdown so unbelievably spectacular that he’s going to give himself an aneurysm and just straight up die immediately. 

And it’s all because of some stupid fucking kid whose name Jiraiya still doesn’t know because he can’t find the goddamned brat no matter which contact he asks or what trail he follows. 

It’s almost like the kid just fell out of the sky one day, got up, and chose violence. 

It all began when he'd been in one of his favourite civilian districts in Land of Water, meeting up with Ishikawa—one of the few of his regular contacts that actually knows his true identity, and an ex-shinobi in his early fifties who runs a tea shop with his family now. Ishikawa makes great tea, loves to gossip, and he has been Jiaiya’s contact since a mission gone wrong years ago, back when he had still been in his early twenties. 

They’d started with aimless chatter, catching up as friends first as has long been routine for them. Ishikawa then reported a few rumours he had picked up from his largely shinobi clientele, and Jiraiya carefully parsed through the information for what might be relevant to Konoha now or later down the line. 

“Come to think of it,” Ishikawa started thoughtfully once he’d finished his report, “there’s a new bounty hunter making noise in the circles lately.”

Jiraiya raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Ishikawa hummed, sipping from his cup. “Indeed. Supposedly, he’s rather strong for someone who just showed up a few weeks ago.”

“How strong?”

Calmly meeting his gaze, the elder man simply said, “Strong.” He put his cup down. “He’s the one who turned in Suna’s Scorpion Twins, you know. They might only be B-rank shinobi but they’re damn slippery. Rumour has it, he’s also the one who got Kiri’s Red Death.”

Whistling, Jiraiya leaned back. “He got Akari Seiya? Seriously?” That's an A-rank shinobi, bordering on S-rank depending on how much sand he had access to.

Ishikawa shrugged. “Allegedly, yes.”

“Where did this guy come from? Is he a nukenin?”

At this, Ishikawa shook his head. “That’s just the thing. No one seems to know anything about him aside from that he looks Lightning, talks too much for his own good, and has abnormal amounts of chakra. Apparently, he might not even be out of his teens yet.”

That had been enough to intrigue Jiraiya who has always enjoyed the challenge of solving a good puzzle. It has been a while since a strong shinobi who has no clear affiliations with any village turned up, especially with the ongoing war resulting in more and more people being drafted. And it certainly isn’t everyday that you hear of such a young bounty hunter taking on and defeating shinobi with twice his experience under their belts. So he’s curious and bored enough to do something about it; sue him. 

Except Ishikawa hadn’t been lying when he’d said that no one seems to know anything about the kid who Jiraiya balefully nicknames 'Menace' in his own head. There is no name, no family, no friends and no history to be found. The only thing he does find is a growing list of people who’d like to string the blond up by the balls for a vast variety of transgressions. It’s almost as though the kid didn’t exist anywhere until he just turned up out of the blue one day with an ill-timed sense of humour and the Scorpion Twins tied up at his feet. 

Jiraiya finds himself getting invested as he tends to when he really starts to fixate on a project. It’s a bit thrilling at first, when he feels like a detective on the hunt for clues about who this boy might be. Then he finds out that Menace has probably been setting up an information network of his own, even making contact with a few of Jiraiya’s own sources, and he’s even more intrigued. 

He thinks he gets close sometimes, but none of Menace’s trails seem to lead anywhere. It’s like he exists in multiple places at the same time only to poof out of existence once he’s done with what he wanted. Jiraiya is pretty certain they’re all clones of some sort but that implies some pretty terrifying things about the kid’s chakra reserves, even for how 'abnormal' rumour says they are.

However, the reason Jiraiya is particularly irritated today, after consistently getting nowhere with this project, is because it has just been confirmed to him that he is being purposefully led around in circles by the brat. He has suspected for a while now, but he hadn’t wanted to be confronted with the idea of that.

“He knows you’ve been looking for him,” his contact told him only an hour ago, eyeing him warily. “I think he finds it funny.”

It had been a bit of a last straw moment for the prideful Toad Sage to find out he was being led around by the nose by some mouthy little shit who probably can’t even grow hair on his face yet. So, Jiraiya decides the kid can go fuck himself and he puts the whole project on hold indefinitely. 

Or, at least, that had been the plan. 

But then, barely a week later, Jiraiya finds out that Menace went and ended the brewing civil war in Ame before it could properly even start, and he can’t decide if he wants to laugh or cry.

He should’ve known, he thinks mournfully to his sake cup. As soon as he found out the kid was blond, he should have expected that he’d be left wanting to rip his own hair out by the end of this. He knows his luck never holds up well against them but it's almost like he's incapable of learning this particular lesson.

There was the gorgeous, curvy blonde waitress in Wave who’d tried her damndest to cut off his balls that one time. Or the kunoichi from Suna with the plush lips who poisoned him when they made out. The tall, slender chunin with his long blond hair from Iwa who attempted to stab Jiraiya after giving him some of the best head of his life. Of course, there’s Tsunade with her casual brand of tough love and long list of attempts on his life over their years as teammates. And, last but certainly not least, Minato who easily has everyone else on Jiraiya’s list beat by a large margin when it comes to shaving years off his life—and he claims to this day that he doesn't intend for Jiraiya to get caught up in his failed sealing experiments so often, but Jiraiya has his suspicions. That kid is one conniving brat and he's petty as all hell even if no one believes Jiraiya when he tries to tell them this. 

So, yeah, Jiraiya has never had the best track record with people whose hair colour is any variation of yellow, and you’d really think he would know better by now. 

Too bad time travel doesn’t exist. If it did, he’d go back out of sheer spite and punch Ishikawa for telling him the rumour that kicked this off in the first place. 

For once, it isn’t Raijin’s fault when things don’t go according to plan. He did his best, okay? But Hanzo-of-the-motherfucking-Salamander just had to go throw everything off track, and Raijin had ended up having to improvise anyway. 

See, the initial idea was that once he gains enough notoriety and builds up his mercenary reputation as a certified badass, he could approach the currently sane and peaceful version of Akatsuki and offer to help them take down Hanzo, thus preventing the civil war in Amegakure and making sure Nagato never has to become Pain because Yahiko's death would be avoided. Akatsuki could then stage a coup, take over, negotiate with the surrounding countries to become a neutral territory and stay out of the war by closing their borders, and it would save everyone a whole lot of trouble.

It was a sound plan. A good one, even. It almost worked and everything. 

He’d managed to get the Ame Orphans to meet with him and, sure, they’d been wary and Yahiko had been kind of an ass at first, but that was totally fin!. Raijin has dealt with people who are wary and kind of assholish his whole life. He’s basically a pro!

So, he played to his strengths and bullied them into having an actual conversation with him where he then proceeded to rant about his hopes for world peace (he can give that speech in his sleep now, heh), and essentially convinced them to let him help them in ending Hanzo’s reign of arrogance and terror so they could then focus on fortifying their borders and keep Ame from becoming the homeground for the Five Great Shinobi Villages' war. 

He would even go as far as to say that the trio maybe even tentatively liked him by the end of their discussion. Hell, he is basically an honorary Akatsuki member and, wow, if that isn’t a surreal thought. 

But because he can’t ever have things just be easy for him, the moment that Raijin sets foot outside of Akatsuki’s immediate territory, he gets ambushed and then promptly abducted. 

His abductor? Hanzo of the Salamander, a.k.a, legend of the shinobi world and famously one of the strongest ninja. Like, ever. 

Now, not to brag, but Raijin is pretty damn strong himself. He has spent the better half of the past two years fighting the likes of Uchiha Madara and a literal alien goddess. There just isn’t any going back from stuff like that. But Kurama is still pretty much comatose in his seal after being forced to power Raijin’s little tryst through time which kind of puts a dent in his arsenal of jutsu for really strong opponents. Not to mention that he hasn’t exactly tried Sage Mode since his trip and he doesn’t know how it’s going to work since his contract with the toads doesn’t technically exist yet. It shouldn’t really matter, since it doesn't change that he knows how to gather natural chakra, but he doesn’t know how he’s going to explain having a Sage Mode without having a contract in the first place. 

So, a few unforeseen problems here. He’s sure it will all work out.

His first order of business as a kidnapee: get the hell out of his bindings and raise absolute hell for those of Hanzo’s lackeys who’ve been unfortunate enough to be tasked with transporting him into Hanzo’s evil lair of doom. To absolutely nobody’s surprise, Raijin is really quite good at raising hell. Step one of his newly improvised plan is executed flawlessly. He’s almost starting to have fun with it when Hanzo himself shows up. 

New, new plan: Don’t get killed by the Salamander guy. 

Which also isn’t hard. Raijin isn’t looking to necessarily defeat the guy right now; he’s just searching for an opportunity to get the hell away. He is more than strong enough to hold his own against Hanzo, who surprisingly isn’t all what the stories made him out to be even if his poison is still a massive bitch to deal with while Raijin's healing factor is down thanks to a lack of assistance from his furry tenant. 

Did Hanzo get weaker with age or something? Did he get overconfident and stop sharpening his skills?

There is a lull in the fight where they both retreat to catch their breath and eye the other warily. Raijin casts a quick glance around and grimaces. His exit is at Hanzo’s back. Seriously, this could not get any worse. 

“Very impressive, young shinobi,” Hanzo rasps out, watching Raijin with the sharp eyes of an experienced shinobi. “Not many are able to match me in an even fight. Even less so when they are as young as you.”

Raijin wrinkles his nose slightly and opens his mouth, immediately wishing he’d kept it shut when he ends up blurting out, “No offence, but I kind of thought you’d be better than this.”

Hanzo’s eyes narrow, the malicious effect being amplified thanks to his respirator. “Watch your mouth, child,” he growls in warning. 

‘Yeah, okay, deserved,’ he thinks, cringing to himself. Or maybe he’s cringing in pain because he has definitely broken a rib or two and he’s really hoping they don’t stab his spleen or something. That would suck. Displaced fractures take surgery and so long to heal without Kurama helping speed up the process. He's already going to need to avoid conflict for a few weeks to heal. ‘Okay, Raijin, keep him talking. You need to catch your breath without internally stabbing your own lungs.’

“Can I ask you something?” he says, because he can sometimes exercise caution and be polite. Like, once every five months or something. Look, he had to raise himself and he has done his best. He could have turned out a lot worse and had rabies instead of simply lacking a brain to mouth filter. You have to cut your losses at some point. 

Hanzo looks like he might be frowning, but honestly, it’s hard to tell with the respirator hiding so many of his features. “Very well, boy. What is it?”

Nice. Raijin’s favourite enemies are the ones who entertain his bullshit. “Why have you kidnapped me?”

At this, Hanzo blinks. Raijin thinks he might have thrown him off but he can’t be sure. “I did not want you joining hands with that rebel group.”

To the point and everything. ‘Hanzo, there may be hope for you yet, buddy.’

“Rebel group,” Raijin repeats slowly. “What did the Akatsuki even do to you?”

A deep crease appears between Hanzo’s eyes, and that Raijin can definitely read. He has had that stare of baffled aggravation directed at him many, many times. “They are rebels ,” Hanzo stresses, and Raijin deepens his defensive stance when it looks like the guy might go back to trying to wipe him off the face of the planet. “They are planning on overthrowing my power, and you were planning on aiding them in this.”

Which isn’t wrong, but that also isn’t the point of the current Akatsuki to be fair. 

“They don't have anything against you personally,” Raijin says, semi-lying. More like outright lying actually. “They just want peace and they’re trying to convince people to help them achieve it. As in, world peace.” Pausing, he frowns in thought. “Why’d you think they wanted to overthrow you?”

As far as he knows, Pain only got rid of Hanzo after the latter directly caused Yahiko’s death. Before that, Hanzo hadn’t ever been a target so much as the biggest hurdle in Akatsuki’s path. The civil war started with Yahiko killing himself on Nagato’s blade because of what Hanzo did to the Ame Orphans with his whole abduction scheme. Akatsuki's current grievance against Hanzo is that the man refuses to close Ame's borders out of pride which lets the other villages use it as their battleground and causes damage to the civilians more than anyone else. Up until now, they've been trying to petition for a closed territory and help refugees without actively seeking conflict. There shouldn't be much reason to see them as rebels. 

Hanzo falters. Raijin lets him process in peace. He does tend to have that effect on the people he fights with. 

Finally, the elder shinobi says, “Their movements are suspicious. The meetings with other shinobi and secrecy makes it clear they are planning something. They are a group of talented young ninja with an agenda–”

“The agenda being peace,” Raijin interrupts smoothly. “Not even in a political way. Just a purely social agenda. They’re meeting with other people who feel the same way they do like any non-profit organisation does. Not to be rude, but their whole thing really isn’t about you. They're just trying to help the people of their nation.”

The other man pauses, straightening. He takes on an air of quiet contemplation, so Raijin wisely keeps his mouth shut and instead starts slowly edging towards the door so he can be closer to the exit for his own peace of mind. 

“I– I knew that,” Hanzo says eventually. “I liked what they were doing. I remember being glad.”

Oh? This is news to Raijin. Although given what he has heard about ROOT’s involvement in Yahiko’s death, he has a good idea on who might be involved. Hint: Their name starts with a 'D-' and ends with '-anzo'. “What changed?”

Hanzo frowns the frown of all frowns. Raijin doesn’t even need to be able to see it to know it’s there. “I…stopped believing.”

“In Akatsuki?”

“In peace.”

Well, Raijin can probably try to fix that. He certainly does it often enough. He takes a deep breath and readies his trusty speech. 

His speech worked. Again. Obviously. It’s practically foolproof. 

It’s not what he’d been planning on, but as he watches the Ame Orphans and Hanzo awkwardly come to a mutual agreement regarding their ideals and agendas and plans for Ame's future, he decides he likes it better this way. He knew his improvisation skills wouldn’t fail him now. 

“You,” Hanzo says abruptly, turning his piercing stare to Raijin. “Your name?”

He has to blink and swallow the instinctive answer that wants to come out. “Raijin,” he pronounces carefully instead. 

Hanzo seems pleased, nodding in approval. “An auspicious name for a shinobi of your calibre,” he says. “I owe you much for reminding me of my convictions, Raijin. In exchange, I shall bestow upon you a title.”

Holy shit, he’s getting a Hanzo-issued title of his own! 

“You shall be known as Kogane no Arashi,” Hanzo announces decisively. Does he come up with these on the fly? It's very impressive. The Ame Orphans look from the elder shinobi to Raijin with wide eyes. “You must improve your skills even further. I will keep an ear out to hear your title being used. One day, we shall fight again to test your strength.”

Golden Storm, huh? He can’t say he doesn’t like it. 

Raijin grins and it is all teeth. “I look forward to it.”

Chapter Text

Nara Shikaku wakes up slowly and is immediately surprised that he has managed to do that at all. He had been pretty sure that he was going to die when he’d passed out under the flimsy cover of some bushes after narrowly escaping his would-be captors from Kiri. 

He groans as his vision swims while his body tries to take revenge on him for not dying by slamming him with pain from literally all over. A face enters his blurry field of view and Shikaku almost wants to cry in relief at the distinctive shock of yellow hair, electric blue eyes and tanned skin. He’s safe if Namikaze Minato is the one to have found him. 

Then his brain finishes rebooting through the splitting headache and the distant ringing in his ear, and Shikaku bodily tries to throw himself away from not-Minato because he knows for a fact that the Namikaze is supposed to be on an outpost mission in Wave right now. Shikaku assigned him there himself after all.

Not-Minato swears loudly and then there are warm hands on Shikaku, grabbing and trying to stop his movements which only serves to get him to struggle even harder. 

“You’re going to tear your stitches,” the stranger hisses, sounding thoroughly put out. “I worked hard on those, you know. Geez, if I knew you wanted to die so badly, I’d have let you bleed out in the poison oak I found you in.” A pause. “You have a rash by the way. I don’t have anything to help with that.”

Shikaku’s vision clears of the spots he’d been seeing and he gets his first proper look at Not-Minato. He looks and then looks some more. Not-Minato does in fact look remarkably like Minato, although this one has softer, younger features and a narrower frame. He's also wearing quite the bright ensemble for a shinobi comprising of a kimono shirt in a cheerful blue printed with wispy whites, secured in place by an orange obi. As if Minato would ever get caught wearing orange.

Not-Minato is starting to look dubious the longer Shikaku stares at him wordlessly. “Maybe you have a concussion,” he comments nervously, hands twisting together. “I couldn’t really check.” Under his breath, he adds, “Man, I hope he doesn’t die. That’d suck.”

So, Shikaku likely won’t be getting killed by this stranger immediately. Okay. He can probably work with that.

“You got stabbed,” Not-Minato blurts out. “Like a lot. I found you covered in a lot of blood; it was kind of horrifying, to be honest. I did the best I could but I’m not exactly a mednin. You need to get back to Konoha as soon as possible so you don’t end up with an infection or something.”

He does vaguely remember several kunai ending up in his back. If he stretches his muscles too much, he can feel the tug of stitches. His mobility is reduced and he still feels like shit from the blood loss and chakra exhaustion. How troublesome. 

“You know I’m from Konoha,” he notes, eyeing the strange shinobi who saved him. 

And it’s clear the boy is a shinobi. He moves like one even as he flitters about the makeshift camp he has set up around Shikaku. 

“Duh,” the boy snorts, looking at him with clear amusement, “you’re too obviously a Nara.”

And isn’t that interesting. It's not like the Nara are a clan of distinctive looks like the Hyuuga or Akimichi. Their appearance is pretty standard for Land of Fire with the tanned skin, dark hair and dark eyes. Shikaku knows he has no clan symbol on him either; he avoids all markers of his affiliation during missions, including forgoing his Konoha issued forehead protector.

“Your accent is from Fire Country,” he throws out, watching the boy for his reaction. 

Not-Minato’s smile widens. “But my looks are too Lightning,” he finishes knowingly. “Yeah, I’ve been getting that one a lot lately. I didn't realise how obsessed people are with trying to figure out where someone's affiliations lie but it makes sense with the war and all, I guess.”

“So where are you really from?” Shikaku asks, not really expecting an answer. He doesn’t get one either. 

Not-Minato shrugs. “I wonder.” His smile becomes secretive, like he’s thinking of an inside joke only he’s privy to. “Not from around here, that’s for sure.”

Shikaku hums. “You’re that bounty hunter kid, aren’t you?” He's reasonably certain Inoichi has mentioned him a few times in whatever gossip he picked up at T&I.

“Maybe,” Not-Minato says, stirring the contents of whatever is bubbling in the pot above the fire. “You can call me Raijin.”

‘They have to be related,’ some distant part of his brain says. ‘Cousins or brothers or whatever, but they have to be related.’

It’s incredibly disorienting, to be honest. 

It could potentially be a disguise. Maybe someone who is attempting to badly imitate Minato’s likeness. But then the kid didn’t bother trying to fake being the Yellow Flash. Not to mention, Shikaku already knew from the few blurry pictures of the Kogane no Arashi that have been popping up in several bingo books that the kid was tan-skinned and blond. 

He subtly pulses out his chakra just in case this is a genjutsu. Nothing happens. Raijin continues to whistle a peppy tune to himself as he splits what smells like stew in two bowls. 

Shikaku is handed one of the bowls and a spoon. He means to say ‘thank you’. Instead what comes out of his mouth is, “Why did you save me?”

Does Raijin know he has family in Konoha? Is he hoping Shikaku can help him meet Minato? What’s the motive here?

Raijin blinks. He has an expressive face; Shikaku can literally see him weigh his options and consider his answer. Finally, the boy shrugs and says, “You were dying and I didn’t want you to.”

'A whim?' Shikaku somehow doubts that. 

He presses, “Do you just save any dying shinobi you come across?”

A noncommittal noise. Raijin offers him a close-lipped smile. “I might have just a little bias towards Konoha shinobi.”

“Why?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions, huh, Nara-san?” Raijin sighs, running a hand through his choppy hair. “It's like I'm back in school again or something.” He regards Shikaku thoughtfully before visibly giving up. “The first one to ever treat me like my own person was a Konoha shinobi,” he admits. 

Shikaku blinks. “I see.”

Raijin shrugs. “Yeah. Iruka-sensei was the best. He’d nag at me about vegetables but he always ended up buying me ramen anyways.”

That seems genuine. There’s enough personal detail that it could be true and there’s obvious affection in Raijin’s voice as he talks about this supposed Konoha nin. 

“I might’ve actually grown to dislike Konoha if it weren’t for him,” the boy comments easily, slurping down his stew like he didn’t just say this to the future head of one of Konoha’s first ever clans. “But Iruka was kind and it was important enough to me that I’ll probably never get over my fondness for your village.”

Shikaku doesn’t know what to really say to that. “I owe him my thanks then, I suppose.”

Raijin smiles at him but this one is fake. When all his other smiles have been so warm, it is entirely too obvious. “He’d appreciate that, I’m sure. He’s long gone now though.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

The blond shakes his head, an edge of bitterness clouding over his features. The air becomes sharp with an instinct that tells Shikaku he’ll die if he doesn’t regard this shinobi with the appropriate wariness. Raijin is disarmingly honest and friendly and Shikaku hadn’t even realised when he’d begun to slowly let his guard down. He exhales. The boy is dangerous. 

“That’s just what war is, Nara-san,” Raijin says, tone clipped. “Loss.”

Shikaku looks down at his rabbit stew. His distorted reflection in the broth stares back at him. He looks tired. “But there is no such thing as true peace either, Raijin-kun.”

“Do you really believe that?” Raijin doesn’t sound upset; only curious. 

Swallowing, Shikaku smiles wryly. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. It’s simply a fact.”

Raijin tilts his head. Somehow, the simple action is incredibly animalistic. “Of course it matters what you believe, Nara-san. People die, but our beliefs outlive us. They’re our legacy.”

“Conflicting beliefs are what leads to war.”

“And then war makes way for peace.”

Shikaku blinks. Raijin grins at him knowingly and turns his attention back to polishing off his bowl. Even so, Shikaku feels too seen. It has always been his role to observe others and poke and prod for reactions. To be in the shoes of the one being observed is…uncomfortable, to say the least. 

“Peace gives room to growth. Growth leads to developmental progress. Progress results in changing ideals. And then ideals lead to conflict,” he recites. “It’s a cycle. It’s why true peace doesn’t exist.”

“Maybe, but peace doesn’t just become important when it lasts and is 'true',” Raijin says simply, putting his bowl aside and stretching his arms over his head until his back pops. He sighs. “It matters simply because it is. It’s our job to try and make the best of it and have it last as long as possible.”

Shikaku watches as the younger shinobi rises to his feet and methodically starts to pack away the camp. “Eventually it will end, though,” he points out. 

Shooting him a smile over his shoulder, Raijin shrugs. He doesn’t seem too bothered at all. “All things do, Nara-san. That’s life,” he states. “All  we can do is give it our best shot.”

“I suppose.”

Raijin pulls up the sleeve of his jacket and Shikaku watches with wide eyes as he pulls a little pill container out of the tattoo curling around his wrist like a snake. ‘Not a tattoo,’ his brain supplies. ‘A seal.’

No one had mentioned that Kogane no Arashi was apparently good enough at fuuinjutsu to be using his body as some sort of storage scroll. ‘Definitely related to Minato.’  That kind of insanity has to be genetic. He refuses to believe two unrelated people are this unhinged in the same way about the same thing. His fragile faith in humanity won't be able to handle it.

“These are painkillers and blood-replenishing pills,” Raijin tells him seriously, handing him a container of familiar white and red capsules. “You don’t have to take them since you don’t really know me and all, but you probably should. Konoha is still a two days’ journey away even without you being so banged up.”

“You’re leaving?” Shikaku asks. He feels disappointed at the loss of an interesting conversationalist but it might just be the ailments clogging up his brain functions. 

Raijin grins. “I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t die in a puddle of your own blood, Nara-san. It was never in the plan to stay for long.”

“The plan?”

“I know, can you believe it? I’m sticking to it and everything.” Raijin offers him a final wave and a grin. “Maybe it’ll even lead us to meeting again, Nara-san. See you around!”

Shikaku waits for a beat after the boy has leapt up into the trees and left the range where he’d have any hope of sensing the blond. He sighs and shakes his head at the pills in his hand. He wonders what the Hokage will have to say about another potential Namikaze running around, left unchecked with all that talent and charisma. A polished diamond for the taking. One with a plan of some sort, it seems. Shikaku wonders about that too. 

The sun is still high in the sky and he really should get a move on before it starts its descent. The journey is two days but it’s probably going to take him three even in the best case scenario that he won't contract an infection despite having no antibiotics on hand. 

“What a pain.”

Minato gapes at his Hokage, not a single thought in his brain as he struggles to comprehend exactly what has come out of Nara Shikaku’s mouth. 

“I—” he starts but he can’t really think of anything to say. “What?”

Hiruzen smiles gently at the helpless look on his face. “Nara-dono was kindly aided in his return by the mysterious shinobi who Jiraiya-kun wrote to me about last month.”

Clearing his throat, Shikaku shuffles. It’s clear he’d rather be anywhere else but he offers Minato a tiny smile nonetheless. “He didn’t ‘aid my return’. He saved my life.”

“The Kogane no Arashi?” Minato confirms.

“Yes,” the Hokage says. 

“As in the guy who restored Hanzo of the Salamander’s faith in peace and received a title from him personally?”

Sarutobi looks amused. “Indeed.”

Minato swallows against the dryness in his mouth. He feels a flare of hope lighting up in his chest but the nervousness rising in him threatens to overwhelm it. “And…” he hesitates, “you’re saying—you think we might be related? He could be family? My family?”

He has been an orphan for as long as he could remember. He’d given up on fantasies of ever miraculously discovering someone who shares his blood when he was a kid still stuck in the orphanage and he hasn’t dared to even hope but—

“I thought he was you at first,” Shikaku admits. His voice is softer than Minato has ever heard it. “You could be twins. It’s uncanny.”

Shit, he’s going to cry. He's going to have a meltdown right in the middle of the Hokage’s office. 

“Nara-dono says his name is Raijin,” Hiruzen tells him, still calm and kind as though Minato isn't literally rethinking his entire existence right in front of him. “He is an unaffiliated shinobi but he seems to be fond of Konoha thanks to a friendship with one of our shinobi. Allegedly anyways.”

“He knows fuuinjutsu,” Shikaku throws in. “He’s interesting, I can tell you that. I've never seen anyone use themselves as a glorified sealing scroll before.”

The Nara clan head has taken interest in his maybe-relative who likes sealing and apparently rescues Konoha nin in his free time. Minato resists the urge to bury his face in his hands and just sit down right where he’s standing. Who seals stuff into themselves instead of using scrolls anyways? It's so much harder to access small dimensional spaces through organic matter like that. You could accidentally bypass a dimension altogether and seal stuff inside your actual body which would be a total disaster. Is his maybe-relative insane?

“I will be asking Jiraiya to keep an eye out for him,” Hiruzen says meaningfully. 

Minato pauses at that, his mental spiral effectively halted by the implications of such a statement. He forces himself to focus. An unaffiliated shinobi who has proven himself to be a potential ally by saving not only an integral member of their forces but also the head of one of the clans on the council. A skilled fuuinjutsu user with considerable strength if he has been gifted a title by the likes of Hanzo and enough intelligence to consistently evade a talented spymaster like Jiraiya. A young man approaching his prime as a ninja and potentially his only living relative just so happens to be one of Konoha’s most well-known unofficial Hokage candidates. 

No wonder Hiruzen wants Jiraiya to keep an eye on the kid. The universe has all but dropped a full-grown Namikaze in the Sandaime’s lap and Hiruzen is far too cunning to let an opportunity like this pass him by. Minato has no doubt that the Kogane no Arashi would make a fine addition to their forces if he can be convinced to join the village, which given that he and Minato might in fact be family, isn’t even all that unlikely. 

Every single pawn matters when one is waging a war, after all. Especially since Konoha lost so many of its Kage-level shinobi in the last war and two-thirds of the Sannin can barely be counted on. They could all use a boost in morale.

Minato frowns at the thought of being used for a political ploy like that but doesn’t shy away from it. That’s just the reality of being a shinobi after all. Instead, he says, “Can I ask you to keep me updated?”

Hiruzen smiles. “Of course.”

Chapter Text

Raijin had never understood Jiraiya when the latter had looked at him thoughtfully one day and declared that he had the potential to become a decent spymaster himself some day. 

To be fair, he had some pretty valid concerns back then. At twelve, he could barely lie to save his life, and even that was a toss up half the time. At nineteen, he isn’t all that better at outright dishonesty, but he has had the time to figure out what works for him. Raijin has gotten good enough at half-truths and omitting enough information that he isn’t running the risk of immediately blurting out that he’s a time-traveller at least. 

And with these new skills of subterfuge, he discovers that Jiraiya had been right! He knows he’s good with people and that his friendliness generally tends to get them talking, but he also finds it surprisingly enjoyable. 

Raijin had basically been left unchecked his whole childhood and he spent a lot of that time running around in parts of Konoha that no child should probably be left in unsupervised. But the people occupying the red light districts were just as outcasted as he had been and he’d learned to fit in with them because they were the only ones who’d let him. He carries those quirks and habits forward now, weaving an enormous web of contacts with the usage of his handy clones and the people he befriends in places where nobody else will treat them with any familiarity. 

Since he’s a man out of time who never paid much attention to history, Raijin needs to find ways to consistently stay in the loop of events and keep track of what happens when. It’s a nice bonus for him that information happens to sell really well too during wartime. 

But his contacts aren’t all he has been using for his growing network. 

It had been a stroke of incredible luck that he’d found such an incredible resource when he’d been raiding the library of the Uzumaki main line’s house. To think they’d just have a summoning scroll for foxes lying around in Uzushio. It’s like Raijin’s entire life has been one big joke leading up to this punchline. 

“Ne, Naru-chan,” Sayuri chirps, trotting beside him, “are you sure Kyuubi-sama isn’t awake yet? What if you’re lying to us so you can keep him all to yourself? I really won’t forgive you if that’s how it is!”

Raijin sighs. He may be their contracted summoner, but the foxes really just do whatever they want. It’s why he is the first name on their scroll. They’ve simply refused to accept anyone else, failing them on absurd criteria they set to test the humans wanting to claim their assistance. The only reason they accepted him is because they could sense that he’s the container for the Kyuubi no Kitsune, who they regard as one of their strongest ever. 

“Yes, Sayuri-san,” he says for the seventy-eight time, “Kurama is still passed out in our seal.”

She gives him the fox equivalent of a stink-eye. “What did you even do to him that Kyuubi-sama is still recovering?”

Huffing in frustration, he sticks his hands in his pockets and looks away. “I told you: he is depleted after powering the space-time seal.” Raijin puffs out his cheeks. “And he’s getting better, okay? It’s taking time but I can feel him getting there.”

He hopes it’ll be soon now. He misses his tenant’s voice grumbling over all of his bad choices. Not to mention, Kurama is the last piece of home he has left— the only one he hasn’t had to give up yet. 

Sayuri peers up at him like she isn’t entirely sure she believes him and Raijin bares his teeth right back at her. “Well,” she finally concedes, “if you say so.”

Sage, these damn foxes would be the death of him. 

He rolls his eyes to the heavens and shakes his head. “Sayuri-san, I asked you to come because I have something I’d like you to do,” he says slowly, forcing his mouth into a sweet smile.

Sayuri’s ears perk up. “Is it an important task?”

“Of course,” Raijin simpers. “Only the most important for a fox this useful.”

She tosses her head, her gait taking on an additional flair. “I suppose I can lend you my assistance then. What is it, Naru-chan?”

“I need you to go south-west from here. Remember the map I gave you?” He waits for Sayuri to nod before continuing, “I need you to go where Takigakure borders a little village to its east. There are mountains there and you'll see the bones of giants in the forest. I need you to go towards the mountain and find an abandoned mine for me. There will be a network of tunnels and caves, and an old guy is hiding out there with this creepy plant thing. I’d like you to keep an eye on them from afar and report to me if they bring anyone else to their hideout. Can you do that?”

Tilting her head in consideration, she nods. “Sounds simple enough. You want me to be sneaky?”

“The sneakiest.”

She bares her teeth at that. “I’m very good at that, Naru-chan. What will you give me in return?”

“I’ll buy you that fancy plum tea you wanted.”

“Plum blossom tea, Naru-chan,” she corrects. “You have yourself a deal!”

To think he has to bargain with his summons to get them to do anything. Raijin sighs and mourns for the future of his wallet. 

Oh, well, at least his spirits will be lifting soon enough. He’s off to Suna after all! Raijin’s current agenda is making sure that Gaara doesn’t get a shitty seal like last time. It’s not something that affects the timeline all that much but he’d like it if his friend doesn’t have to suffer needlessly in this life. 

He’s just going to be in and out in a flash. No trouble at all!

Suna is in trouble.

Chiyo can longer deny it: they’re being haunted. 

In hindsight, it starts with the scrolls. The librarians had started mumbling about finding books and scrolls lying around that had no record of ever belonging to Suna’s public library. The desk shinobi on the lower levels of the Kazekage office building were stumped as to who kept leaving fuuinjutsu theory on their desks and shelves. Chiyo’s own home and office had not been spared even though no one was seen going in or out of either and none of her traps had been set off. 

She had ignored it then, angrily chalking it up to the work of some admittedly skilled trickster. It was irritating to be targeted this way but, ultimately, such a prank was harmless. 

Except it didn’t stop there. 

Next came what looked to most people like strange doodles that had been crossed out. Unfinished lines and shapes tapering off before they could start to form a picture, circled in red and then struck off. Pages with only the corners filled with a swirling pattern haphazardly erased so only half of the pattern could be seen. Things that normal shinobi would dismiss because they wouldn’t understand.

But Chiyo is not a regular shinobi. Those were not doodles that the prankster was leaving for them to find; they were parts of seals. Seals made in a style with arrays and patterns that she was all too familiar with because they are in her hand. Containment seals. Jinchuuriki seals, she realised with a chill. 

And they were everywhere once she started looking for them. Slipped into pages of reports and books in her home, her office, the library, and even the Kazekage’s own office. Memos stuck onto the doors and walls of their workplace. Papers littering the streets of Suna like fliers. With each attempt where they failed to understand the trickster’s intention, the scale of the prank increased. 

Chiyo was appalled. She didn’t understand how someone could get hold of such a confidential seal to begin with. Then to have this person express their rejection of the design, consistently crossing out or halfway erasing the seals, leaving messages saying “NO” and “NOT THIS” and “DO BETTER”; all of it gave her goosebumps and put fear in her heart like she hadn’t felt since Sasori’s departure from the village. 

It all came to a head in the Yondaime Kazekage’s office. Documents had been scattered on the floor as though someone had smacked them off Rasa’s desk in frustration. Once again, fuuinjutsu theory was piled onto the table along with a scroll that revealed a seal that Chiyo could only stare at with numb horror. It was a design clearly meant to seal the Ichibi into a vessel that was itself stored in an organic container. A seal to make a jinchuuriki out of an unborn child. A seal that she’d begun working on recently at Rasa’s request. 

The seal was crossed out, an arrow pointing at it with a message that read: 'This won’t do. No unborn babies. No crappy seal. Be better this time.'  

“Be better this time,” Rasa repeated slowly, sounding very far away. No one other than him and Chiyo even knew of the request he’d made to her with his own coming second-born in mine. “Who…?”

Chiyo had been grim. “Perhaps it is the to-be vessel’s predecessor,” she said. 

Rasa turned to her with wide eyes. “The previous jinchuuriki?” he asked, hissing. 

“Or a djinn,” she added. “I do not believe this to be the work of a human anymore. Why would any other shinobi of this skill care about Suna’s next jinchuuriki seal to this extent?” 

Rasa hadn’t replied. Within the week, shamans and priests had been brought in to purify and bless their offices and their city. Rituals were performed to cleanse the space of any malevolent spirits whose resentment towards them might only grow. Chiyo received a personal blessing to protect her from forces even she could do nothing against. 

It did not stop their ghost. 

Chiyo remembers the previous jinchuuriki. He’d been a small man with tough hands and intense eyes. Rarely ever a smile on his face. His eyes had always narrowed and mouth pursed around Chiyo or the Sandaime Kazekage. She remembers dismissing that simmering rage so easily, even finding some amusement in the man’s quietly brewing resentment. She’d scoffed then because she’d known their weapon was a well trained one, and he may hate them all he likes, but he would still die for them one day, and then he’d simply be replaced. Such is the life of a jinchuuriki; they’re meant to be sacrifices to harness the power of the demons sealed away within them for the sake of their villages and Kage. 

Now, she sits in the home where she knows she cannot stop this ghost from coming and going as he pleases, and she wonders about that rage. Wonders if he hated them and this village enough to choose to linger here so he could give them even an ounce of the suffering he might have experienced at their hands. She stares at the seal she’d been designing, meant to condemn a child to the same fate even before its first breath. 

“Be better,” she says to herself, smiling wryly. Decisively, she rips the paper in two. There would be no sealing the Ichibi into an unborn child if it seemed to displease the dead so much that they’d leave their eternal rest just to come stop them. 

She knows better than anyone else how stubborn she is, and there is that saying about old dogs and new tricks, but… Well, it’s never too late to make amends. 

They could try to be better.

Raijin knows cultural differences are a thing and all, but man, Suna was being even weirder than usual. 

For one, no one in the entire city could seem to take a fucking hint. He’d had to leave the same message over and over, in bigger and more crowded places each time in the hopes that someone would figure it out, but not one person got that he was telling them to not screw up Gaara’s seal in those particular arrays. 

To make matters worse, they seemed to be convinced that he was a ghost haunting them. There’d been exorcisms. Chiyo insisted on personally getting purified and blessed and whatnot. Honestly, Raijin had been kind of offended. 

He is still alive and kicking, thank you very much. 

Well, whatever. By the time he left, they seemed to have given up on trying to figure out how to seal Shukaku into a foetus, so at least there’s that. He’s so glad he had managed to convince Gaara to show him how to dismantle the protective seals and traps laid in the Kazekage office when his friend had become Godaime. They’d served as enough of a basis for him to figure out Suna’s trapping style in general which made breaking in so much easier than it could’ve been. 

Hopefully now Gaara can have the happy childhood he always should have had, free of rage and bloodlust that aren't his. His village and family will not have to fear or hate him, and he could actually sleep without flying into a murderous rampage. Raijin looks to the sky and smiles at the sunny day. A caravan of shamans makes their way back to Suna on the road in the distance. 

All in a good day’s work. 

Chapter Text

Raijin is perfectly aware that his godfather, if not most of Konoha itself, is on the lookout for him. He isn’t sure what he did to catch Jiraiya’s attention in the first place or why his village would give a fuck about him while he’s just some random shinobi, but those are all secondary details. What’s important is that he knows Jiraiya is on his tail more often than not. 

And, eventually, the plan is to let the old man catch up too. Just...not yet. Not while Raijin still has one major tragedy he needs to prevent. 

Nevertheless, since he’s intending to let Jiraiya catch him at some point, Raijin has already begun to mentally prepare himself for when he finally sees his godfather for the first time since his death when Raijin had been sixteen. He may have had the time to grieve properly and move on, but that was also before he unravelled the threads of time and suddenly got the chance to see Jiraiya again. 

It won’t be the same; he knows this. The man he meets will be Jiraiya, but he won’t be Raijin’s Jiraiya. He won’t be the godfather or mentor Raijin had travelled beside and learned from for three years. He will be younger, without any memory of what ties the two of them together. This Jiraiya is a different man. 

And Raijin would see to it that this Jiraiya would never have to lose his students and live with the regrets that chased at his own godfather’s heels no matter how far he ran away. 

Anyway, all this to say, Raijin has been steadying his heart and preparing his mind for an encounter with Jiraiya since the first toad he laid his eyes on in this time period. He doesn’t know if he’s ready yet, but by Sage, he sure as hell will be . 

What he isn’t prepared for is running into Tsunade. 

As soon as the Sannin walks into the izakaya, Raijin’s head swivels towards her, Tsunade’s achingly familiar chakra signature immediately hitting him with all the force of a punch to the gut. It’s all he can do to not choke on the yakitori he has just stuffed into his mouth. At least this way he can pretend that the tears in his eyes are only because he’s currently in the middle of trying to cough up his entire lung. 

The old man sitting beside him, who’d been in the middle of telling Raijin about what he’d heard of Ame’s current situation from his niece who lives there, looks from the boy to the woman who’d just entered the establishment. Instantly, the man’s face takes on a sly leer and he waggles his eyebrows at Raijin suggestively. 

“You have good taste, Raijin-kun,” Aoba compliments before promptly starting to cackle loud enough that Raijin pretty much loses his ability to hear in one ear. 

Raijin makes a face. “That isn’t it,” he protests. Aoba doesn’t look convinced in the least and he’s pretty sure his face going red isn’t helping. “It isn’t ,” he insists. “She just looks like someone I knew.”

Aoba snorts, hiding behind his sake cup when Raijin glares at him. “If you say so, boy,” he placates mockingly. “Ain’t no shame in it, you know. A young man approaching his prime like you; it’s only natural, after all. Why don’t you try talking to her, hm? Maybe she’ll even let you get lucky tonight.” Leaning closer, he mock-whispers, “You could spend hours staring at her lovely…eyes.”

The look on his face makes it very clear that Tsunade’s eyes are very much not the subjects of the conversation here.

Lips curling into a grimace, Raijin shoots a judgmental look at the older man. “You’re kind of gross, huh, jii-chan?” he comments, shrugging when Aoba sputters at the nonchalant disrespect. “I’m not going to bother some poor lady who’s only here because this town doesn’t have any other places to eat open at this time of night. She probably just wants to eat in peace. Besides, I don’t want to hit on her. At all. Like, it’s actually giving me hives just thinking about it.”

“You calling me ugly, shitstain?”

Raijin stiffens. Part of him doesn’t want to turn around. He closes his eyes against the feeling of Tsunade’s chakra when she’s standing right behind him. The sunny-forest-stream-dew is so familiar even if he has never felt quite this much pain in it before. It couldn’t have been that long since she left the village then. 

He can feel several pairs of eyes on him now; Tsunade, Aoba, Shizune, and several other patrons are now looking at him expectantly. Slowly, Raijin turns around. 

Tsunade doesn’t look any different at all, perpetually frozen in time thanks to her jutsu. It’s a bittersweet thing to have her look like she popped right out of his memories when there isn’t a lick of the fondness in her eyes that she has always reserved for him. 

“No offence, lady,” he says, swallowing the lump in his throat and donning the troublemaker persona that he can still pull on like a second skin. “You just look an awful lot like this granny I used to know.”

The vein in Tsunade’s forehead that Raijin had affectionately dubbed ‘Twitchy’ at the ripe age of thirteen throbs in its full glory. She narrows her eyes into a glare that would make any man cower. Raijin personally has developed immunity through exposure and sheer lack of self preservation. 

Voice dangerously low, she repeats, “Granny?”

All of this feels so much like a dream. Raijin ignores the dissonance of it all and grins impishly. “Yeah! She was always throwing stuff around and calling me a brat, but she was a total softie. Did have a gambling problem though.”

From where she’d been lingering at Tsunade’s side, a thirteen-year-old Shizune blinks. She glances from Tsunade to the blond smirking fearlessly up at her master and wonders if they’re going to have to book it from another town because Tsunade delivered a man to death’s doorsteps. Again. 

Tsunade’s eyes are narrowed now. “You–” she starts to say before stopping abruptly. She wants to ask if the brat knows who she is and if this granny is some made up character he’s using to try and bullshit her but he sounds strangely genuine. There’s the affectionate sort of grief in how strained his stupid smile is at the edges that Tsunade recognises all too well. Granny might have existed but she certainly doesn’t anymore. 

Huffing to herself, she drops into the empty seat on the brat’s other side, Shizune dutifully taking the seat next to hers. 

“Your name?” Tsunade demands, turning to the boy. Something about the way he looks is itching at her brain with familiarity but she can’t quite place him just yet. 

“Raijin,” he answers. 

She hums, glancing at him with furrowed brows for a moment before flagging down a server and asking for sake and tuna hosomaki. “You’re a shinobi,” she notes. He has the telltale callouses on his hands from wielding kunai at least. “Where are you from?”

Beside Raijin, Aoba stiffens and looks at her with wide eyes. In the midst of a war, asking such questions to a shinobi is a dangerous thing to do. Especially when they aren't wearing a headband, meaning they are either unaffiliated, potentially undercover, in enemy territory, or maybe a deserter. 

Raijin sighs and shakes his head in amusement. Tsunade is lucky she can choose to be this ignorant or insolent by virtue of her strength. 

“I grew up in Fire,” he admits, eyeing her, “but I’ve been told my father may have been from Lightning originally.”

“You don’t know?”

“I grew up in an orphanage.”

“Ah.” Tsunade nods. Probably a war orphan. Far from a shortage of those these days. And with how the shinobi world is, this is unlikely to change. Shinobi breed violence in the name of peace after all. 

A war orphan in Fire with Lightning blood, though? Tsunade’s eyes narrow. That’s quite the familiar story. The itch in her brain turns into a dawning realisation. That’s who the brat’s looks reminded her of: Minato! She looks at him with renewed interest, trying to keep the surprise from showing on her face. 

Now that she’s looking for it, it’s all she can see. The shock of thick golden hair, the disarmingly blue eyes, the high and narrow nose bridge. Minato’s features are narrower, his cheekbones and jaw sharper where this boy’s are soft, but given a few years, she can see Raijin losing some of that softness with the lingering baby fat and then…well, the similarities already speak for themselves. 

She frowns, slowly reaching out with chakra to extend her senses. She isn’t the best at sensing but it should be enough since Raijin isn’t exactly trying to snuffle his presence. As soon as she reaches for it, his afternoon-seasalt-storm-starburst reaches back, almost as though it is trying to curl into her chakra. 

Tsunade startles and looks at him wide-eyed. Raijin raises an eyebrow and blinks at her in confusion. It is likely the edges of his chakra reacted without him even realising given his apparent bewilderment, but it still puts her off kilter. Chakra embraces are usually saved for relationships of safety and comfort—family, close friends, lovers. 

It isn’t unheard of for shinobi with a lot of chakra to not have the strongest awareness of what their chakra output is doing at its furthest edges, especially for shinobi who are naturally suited for ninjutsu and tend to have more excitable or volatile signatures. Nonetheless, perhaps she really must remind Raijin of a loved one if his chakra is reacting with such familiarity to hers. 

She shakes it off, rolling her shoulders once. Well, whatever. At least she’s pretty sure that the brat is a wind-natured primary despite apparently having Lightning blood. Another thing he shares with Minato. 

“You remind me of someone too,” she says nonchalantly, pouring herself a cup of sake. At her side, Shizune eyes the bottle with distaste. Tsunade ignores her. 

Raijin tilts her head. Something about the action is oddly uncanny. “Oh?”

She hums. “An old friend’s apprentice. Pretty sure he’s originally from Lightning too. An orphan who came to Konohagakure.”

Smiling wryly, Raijin shrugs. “It’s not like we’re a rarity given how things work around here,” he points out. “Every other kid at any orphanage has the same story.”

And Tsunade can’t argue with that. It’s all part of the reason she can’t stand being a ninja anymore after all. 

“Raijin-san,” Shizune pipes up, leaning out so she can address the blond, “what do you do if you’re not a village-affiliated shinobi?”

Another risky question. Tsunade chances a glance at Raijin but he seems unbothered. 

“Hey, isn’t it unfair you know my name when I don’t know yours?” he asks, his grin taking on an edge of teasing that Shizune returns with a bright smile of her own. 

“I’m Shizune,” she introduces herself with a nod before gesturing to Tsunade, “and this is my master.” She doesn’t offer a name. Raijin doesn’t ask for one again. 

“Well, Shizune-chan, most independent shinobi earn money from bounties for the most part. They could offer their services to take up guard jobs, escort services, assassinations and stuff too,” Raijin explains. “I just do the bounty thing when I need quick cash.”

Shizune tilts her head. “Why not take up something more regular? Isn’t it better for a stable income?”

Raijin shrugs. “Sure,” he agrees, “but I like being able to travel whenever I feel like it.”

“Oh?” Tsuande raises an eyebrow. “Not the type to settle down?” she asks. 

 Humming, he chews on his food thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t say that. I just have a few things I need to do first.”

“What kind of things?”

“I promised I’d look out for a few people for a bit.”

Shizune steals some of Tsunade’s sushi and pops it in her mouth. “And after that? Will you go home?”

Raijin gets quiet at that. Tsunade watches, waiting for his answer. Finally, he says, “I don’t really have a home right now, I guess. Maybe I’ll go looking for one after.”

He says it with a smile but there’s something painfully brittle about it in a way that tells her that he isn’t supposed to be carrying this kind of an ache. This is a face meant to laugh loud and bright, and flash mischievous smiles at strangers that will equal parts endear and annoy. 

Tsunade hasn’t had contact with anyone from the village since she left six months ago, and she can’t say she’s keen to change that status quo. She doesn’t want anything to do with anyone except for Shizune at the moment. But she looks at the sadness this boy is trying to hide away, hears him say he has nowhere to call home, and she sighs to herself. 

It can’t hurt to send a slug to Jiraiya and tell him to look into a boy who looks suspiciously like Minato. If the bastard tries to hunt her down, she’ll just have to set him straight. 

Just this once, she’ll make an exception. 

Chapter Text

The thing about time travel is that Raijin doesn’t actually know the exact dates for anything that happens except for the things that always seem to go wrong on his birthday. It’s the biggest thing that keeps him from joining Konoha immediately. 

He could’ve just claimed to have seen the Yellow Flash’s likeness and spun some story about how he thought they could be family, but that would chain him to the village and he wouldn’t have been able to actually do anything with the scrutiny that would no doubt be put onto him as an outsider to the village in the middle of a war. 

The biggest wrench he can throw in Zetsu’s current plans for the future is making sure Obito never becomes Madara’s tool to carry out the Eye of the Moon plan. To do that, he either needs to interfere with the Kannabi bridge mission directly or rescue Obito from Madara’ evil lair in the immediate aftermath. 

Ideally, he’d like to make sure that Obito never has to deal with basically dying and then getting bodily modified with Hashirama cells. Sage knows that trauma did Kakashi no favours and Raijin is selfish enough to want to spare his precious people the pain of loss. But as much as he’d like to just show up and rescue the current Team 7, Raijin is unable to purely because he doesn’t know when the Kannabi Bridge mission happens. 

He can make all the rough guesses he wants but he isn’t sure of the exact month, let alone the date. It’s not like Kakashi ever talked about it. And Obito only really spoke to Kakashi while he was still around their ragtag group before his death. 

So, he guesstimates as well as one can when they are as mathematically challenged as he is, and he plans on hanging around in the civilian village closest to the Bridge on Iwa’s side in the hopes that he can rush in as soon as he catches word of a confrontation with Konoha forces taking place. 

Except he’s too late from the moment he shows up. 

An air of sombreness hangs over the town, whispers flying around about how the war is all but lost now. Up till now, Iwa has had the clear upper hand with their superior numbers, but with the destruction of the bridge that served as the main pathway to their line of supplies, the tide has turned in Konoha’s favour, and everyone knows those tenacious leaf bastards will sink their teeth into this chance with everything they’ve got. 

‘Oops,’ Raijin thinks and swiftly turns tail to get the hell out of there. He probably doesn’t want to stick around when he looks like he has basically stolen Namikaze Minato’s ( a.k.a, Iwa’s public enemy no.1) face. 

Okay, so, Operation: Rescue Obito and Kick Zetsu’ Ass is officially in motion. Cool. He’s got this. 

Step one: Stop running away from Jiraiya and actively try to get caught. 

Raijin doesn’t think it’s going to be very hard. He’s loud and he wears orange whenever he can. At this point, he has basically made a career out of doing his best to stand out as much as possible. The attention seeking inner twelve-year-old in him is thrilled. 

He immediately sets up base in Jiraiya’s favourite tourist trap town in Land of Tea and puts his whole heart and soul into standing out as much as possible. There’s a guy here who owns a guesthouse/hot springs place and just so happens to be one of Jiraiya’s contacts. Or at least he had been in Raijiin’s time, but who knows about now. Nonetheless, this is where the blond decides he’ll be staying for however long it takes for Jiraiya to finally catch up to him. 

He makes it a point to talk to everyone he can, from the ladies running the food stalls in the market to the old guys playing shogi in the park. He introduces himself by name, regales everyone with stories of his adventures at any given opportunity, makes sure to insert into conversation that, yes, he is in fact the Kogane no Arashi. 

Exactly twice he gets attacked by some losers who try to get the jump on him because apparently he has bounties on his head in places now too. Raijin makes sure to give his heartfelt thanks to them after handily kicking both their asses because their efforts have brought even more attention to him. 

Six days go by before he starts to kind of freak out. Even with all the ruckus he has been making, there’s no sign of Jiraiya on any horizon, and he isn’t sure how much time he can spare on hopefully securing his godfather’s help before he needs to get a move on for Obito’s sake. 

Desperate, he instructs a whole host of clones to go out and do the opposite of what he has been having them do this whole time: instead of using them to create false trails, he has them go out and make sure every possible trail clearly makes its way back to Raijin. While they’re out, every clone has been ordered to stop and give out its location to any toad they come across for good measure, just in case one of them happens to be one of Jiraiya's summons. 

While he waits, a disgruntled Raijin thinks that maybe the credit for evading Jiraiya this long doesn’t really go to him. Clearly the old man just sucks at finding people if he hasn’t showed up yet despite Raijin’s very best efforts. 

He really does have to do all the work around here.

Jiraiya isn’t sure what to think when exactly four of his toads report back to him about Menace stopping to have a very pleasant chat with them about his current stay at an onsen in Tea, happily mentioning his exact coordinates before skipping away. 

The bullshit radar he has developed after years of being exposed to the fuckery his teammates used to get up to when they were all just brats is going off like crazy in the back of his mind. It’s safe to conclude that the Kogane no Arashi is more than likely aware about Jiraiya’s summons and is in fact looking to be found. 

What the Sannin can’t figure out is why the kid wants to meet with him now after months of excellent avoidance. He’s almost too wary to find out. 

But he thinks of Hiruzen-sensei’s instructions and Tsunade’s message about a boy named Raijin who looked far too much like Minato for it to be a coincidence, and his curiosity has him setting him off for Tea before he can think better of it. 

He’s more than familiar with the little town that Menace is apparently holidaying in. Familiar enough that part of him wonders if Menace chose this place on purpose, but the kid couldn’t possibly know of Jiraiya’s fondness for this place. Right?

As soon as he walks into the inn he always stays at when he stops in this town, his eyes zero in on the head of blond hair that he has been chasing on and off for months now. Not like it’s hard. The kid is practically falling out of his seat with the ferocity he’s using to wave at Jiraiya, a shit-eating grin on his face. Jiraiya has to pause and blink. 

It’s like looking at a Minato from some alternate dimension. He expected it somewhat from Nara Shikaku and Tsunade’s descriptions but seeing the similarities in person is uncanny. If these two aren’t related, it would be the craziest instance of doppelgangers he’s ever seen. 

Like something out of a book. Now, there’s an idea for his next book…

“Took you long enough,” Menace comments, gesturing emphatically for Jiraiya to sit opposite him. There’s a serving of karaage waiting for him. He wonders if and how the kid guessed his favourite food. Eyes narrowing, Jiraiya takes his seat. Regardless of the sunny smile being aimed at him, he gets the sense this isn’t a shinobi he can let his guard down around. Raijin has consistently proven to be a step ahead, always holding cards of information up his sleeves. The kid is one tricky bastard.

“You’re a hard man to find.”

Raijin peers at him with squinted eyes. He looks vaguely offended for some reason. “Maybe you’re not as good at your job as you think you are,” he says slowly, almost like he has made an observation for Jiraiya's sake. 

Jiraiya gapes at him. Sage, the audacity of this kid. No wonder people have wanted to skin him for his insolence alone. “You—” he splutters. “Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to?”

The kid lifts an eyebrow at him like he thinks Jiraiya is being particularly dimwitted. “Jiraiya of the Sannin,” he says slowly. “Toad Sage. Sealing expert. Spymaster of Konoha. Pervert of legendary notoriety.” When Jiraiya stares at him dumbstruck, Raijin only flashes him a look of amusement. “I know exactly who I’m speaking to.”

A tricky bastard indeed. A dangerous one too. He knows a lot.  

The imbalance in their information on each other has Jiraiya losing his footing in this conversation right off the bat. Raijin clearly has no intention of giving up on leading where this discussion goes. The brat is good, Jiraiya will give him that. 

He laughs hoarsely. “You must have some good sources, kid.”

Raijin snorts to himself. “Oh, you don’t even know the half of it,” he mumbles under his breath.

Jiraiya clears his throat. “Well, ashamed as I am to admit it, all I know about you is your name, title, and how good you are at losing someone on your tail,” he says. “What made you want to meet me now?”

The humour drains out of the boy’s face, replaced by an impressive air of seriousness that has Jiraiya sitting up straight unconsciously too. ‘That’s some charisma,’ he thinks, grudgingly impressed. 

Holding up three fingers, Raijin leans forward slightly. “Three favours,” he states. “I’ll owe you three favours in return for your help, Jiraiya-san. Favours with no expiry date. You can ask anything of me too; nothing’s off limits.”

The Sannin whistles, eyebrows shooting up. “Quite the deal you’re trying to strike here, kid. What kind of trouble did you get into that you need my help?”

Smoothly retrieving a folded bit of paper from the sleeve of his haori, Raijin places it down on the table and unfolds it to reveal a seal. 

Eyebrows immediately shooting up, Jiraiya stares blankly at the seal—clearly made in a style too personalised to be the standard mass-produced stuff. Raijin really is full of surprises. The sealing hand is nothing like Jiraiya’s own meticulous, systematic and orderly one. This one is bold and loud and an artful mess, full of arrays used in ways he’d never think of himself. He might not be able to really utilise it, but Jiraiya can recognise an Uzumaki based style when he sees one, and here’s another mystery for him to solve about the brat. 

Pushing a sliver of chakra into what Jiraiya concludes is a barrier seal meant to specifically prevent sound from escaping—a variant of which is also used in the Hokage’s office—Raijin looks up to face Jiraiya, grave seriousness engraved into the lines of his face. 

“I happen to be contracted to fox summons,” the teen admits, linking his fingers together. “They’re actually integral to my information network, essentially serving as my eyes and ears all over the continent. Recently, one of them has come to me with an interesting claim that I may require help with verifying.”

Sage above. A strong shinobi, acknowledged by Hanzo, responsible for stopping the brewing discontent in Ame, the architect of a fearsome information network, potentially related to Konoha’s Yellow Flash, clearly somewhat skilled at sealing, and the first fox summoner Jiraiya has ever heard of. 

Where the fuck did this kid come from?

Jiraiya sighs, feeling the weight of every single one of his years. “What did you find out?”

Raijin purses his lips, impossibly blue eyes searching for something in Jiraiya’s own for a moment. Finally, he says, “Have you heard of the Mountains’ Graveyard?”

“Of course. What of it?”

The teen hums, one finger tapping at the table lightly. “You know the abandoned mine there, yeah? Well, according to one of my summons, it’s not quite so abandoned anymore.”

Eyes narrowing, Jiraiya quietly demands, “Get to the point, Raijin-kun.”

Raijin sighs. “There are two Uchiha shinobi hiding there at the moment,” he reveals. “One is a teenager, recently brought in and heavily injured. The other is an old man claiming to be Uchiha Madara. My fox says that there is a third party, but it isn’t quite human. Supposedly, it is claiming to be the manifestation of Madara’s will.”

And whatever Jiraiya had been expecting, it most certainly had not been any of what just came out of Raijin’s mouth. Rearing back, all he can think to say is, “What?”

The blond eyes him, frowning. “You don’t have to believe me. I know that Uchiha Madara is famously believed to be long dead, and while I trust my summons, you have no reason to. What I’m more concerned with is the kid. He has been taken there against his will and Sayuri-san says he isn’t allowed to leave. I’d like you to help me rescue him.”

“What do you get out of saving a Konoha shinobi?” Jiraiya asks, refusing to show how rattled he feels by Raijin’s claim of Uchiha shinobi hiding out in an abandoned mine.

Raijin furrows his brows in obvious disapproval. “I don’t need to get anything out of it, Jiraiya-san,” he states. “There’s a kid stranded far from his home, trapped by a full-grown shinobi who is quite evidently deranged even if he might not actually be Uchiha Madara himself. That’s not even getting to whatever the inhuman thing is. I’m likely the only one who knows where this boy is. I can’t not do something about it.”

Jiraiya exhales. “And you want my help?”

“I’d rather not risk going by myself just in case it turns out to really be Uchiha Madara and the manifestation of his will or whatever. And since the kid is an Uchiha, it’s best if a Konoha nin is involved so you can take him home for treatment as soon as possible.” Raijin shrugs, adding, “And you’re strong enough that you can afford to follow me into unknown territory on nothing but my word. I probably wouldn’t be able to convince any other Konoha shinobi I might come across.”

There’s a very specific place in his skull that starts to hurt first whenever Jiraiya is about to experience a stress-induced migraine. The last person to make it throb this way was Minato, and honestly, this is all the testing Jiraiya thinks is needed in order to conclude that Menace and Minato clearly share blood. 

Sighing deeply, the man rubs at his face. “Fuck, okay, Menace. You have yourself a deal. When do we head out?”

“Funny you ask that,” Raijin starts, his grin returning to his face. “I was thinking right away, actually.”

Jiraiya sighs again. He has a feeling he’s going to be doing that a lot in his near future.

Chapter Text

Now, Jiraiya knows he’s a pretty adaptable guy. In his line of work, he has to know how to get along with people well and get them comfortable quickly so he can get them talking without arousing suspicion. So, he’s sociable and quick to adjust, and he’s good at what he does. 

He also very quickly realises that he has nothing on Raijin in terms of conformability. 

As soon as they set out on the road to Mountains’ Graveyard, the kid falls into place beside Jiraiya like he has been there his whole life. For all his bickering and needling, Raijin is the easiest companion Jiraiya has ever had while travelling. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter, drawing Jiraiya into conversation effortlessly, setting up camp alongside the Sannin without a second thought, his shoulders relaxed the entire time. 

Grudgingly, Jiraiya is impressed. The brat really is growing on him. 

It’s hard to dislike him once you get used to the mouthiness. Raijin is infectiously bright and enthusiastic. He’s witty, youthful and quick to laugh. He talks like the world has stopped to listen to him and it couldn’t bother him less. The boy is incredibly charismatic and Jiraiya can admit to being pretty charmed by him. 

Menace is also very good at the art of speaking endlessly without actually saying anything at all. He easily tells stories of his recent exploits and has absolutely no problem poking fun at Jiraiya, but by the end of it, Jiraiya still doesn’t actually know about Raijin’s origins or what kind of life he has lived. 

He can guess it hasn’t been an easy life. Raijin mentions a few people only, all of them sounding like loved ones and each of them referred to in the past tense. That’s an awful lot of loss for someone so young even if Raijin is a shinobi. 

Jiraiya watches the blond contemplatively from across the fire they’ve built for the night. He has been considering the three favours he is owed since the moment Raijin proposed his deal. Jiraiya knows what one of those favours is going to be for sure, but now he considers calling in another one. 

“Hey, brat,” he calls out, mind made up, “I’m going to cash in the first favour.”

Raijin’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh,” he says, blinking “sure. What do you want?”

Leaping on the opening before Menace can try to snatch it back, Jiraiya grins viciously and demands, “Answer all the questions I ask you.”

There is a flash of clear surprise on the boy’s face before he snorts and barks a laugh. “I really must have pissed you off, huh, old man,” he cackles. “Fine. Ask away, Pervy Sage.”

He sniffs at the nickname but decides he has won more than he has lost. “Okay. Age?”

“Nineteen.”

“Where did you grow up?”

Raijin inclines his head, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “A village in Fire.”

“In an orphanage?”  

“A civilian one.” The blond hums. “I left when I was five though.”

At that, Jiraiya blinks in surprise. That’s…abnormally early by civilian standards. “Where did you go? How’d you survive?”

“I didn’t really leave the village. The village head put me up in a small apartment and gave me money every month. I got by.”

The Sannin frowns. “You just raised yourself?”

Raijin quirks his eyebrows, lips twitching in some sort of wry amusement that Jiraiya can’t share because of the pit of worry pooling in his stomach. “Not like anyone else was going to do it,” Raijin points out. 

And, shit, Jiraiya knows that growing up in an orphanage isn’t exactly a life of rainbows and sunshine. His own childhood was marked by a clear lack of adult figures he could rely on emotionally, but at least he could count on being fed and clothed and looked after if he ever got ill or hurt. He tries to picture a smaller Raijin by himself in a cold apartment, left entirely to his own devices with no real means to take care of himself. 

“How’d you end up becoming a shinobi?” he finds himself asking. 

The teen leans his weight back on his hands and stretches his legs out. “The idea was that if I wanted people to acknowledge me, I’d have to get really strong first,” he explains. “I got lucky with finding people who could teach me how to get there.”

“You had multiple teachers?”

Raijin shrugs. “Sure,” he says. “Iruka taught me the basics while I was still in the village, and then I travelled with my master after that.”

Jiraiya leans forward, intrigued. “What was your master like?”

There is clear amusement flickering in those bright blue eyes. Raijin looks like he wants to laugh, but his voice is so overwhelmingly affectionate when he speaks. “He was this tall, white-haired guy. Never saw him without a mask covering most of his face. He was a genius apparently, but I just thought he was the biggest pervert ever. He’d walk around reading these smutty orange books in public and peek into women’s baths.”

“Smutty orange books,” Jiraiya repeats, his own mouth twitching into a smile at such a description of his work. What a strange coincidence. “He taught you sealing as well, then? Was he an Uzushio refugee by any chance? I noticed you used the Uzumaki hand as a basis for your style.”

Raijin blinks like he’s surprised. “Uh, no. No. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t from Uzushio himself, but he did know an Uzumaki or two. Might have learned from them.”

Jiraiya hums, accepting that. He’d love to pick the brat’s brain for sealing theory sometime. Konoha’s sealing style is very much derived from the Niidaime’s personal hand, but Senju Tobirama had mostly taught himself using scrolls and books provided by Uzushio during the Warring Clans era. Since then, there hasn’t been much change or development in Konoha’s style. 

While Minato initially learned from Jiraiya himself, he has since gone on to develop a far more flexible and dynamic style thanks to lots of personal experimentation and also Kushina’s influence. If Jiraiya had to compare, he’d say that both Kushina and Raijin had similarities in the way they seal due to the creativity and bold decisions that seemed to be the foundation of Uzushio’s powerful seals. 

“Have you ever thought of joining a shinobi village, Menace?” he asks, curious. “You probably wouldn’t have trouble with immigrating even during war given the skills you’d bring with you. A good sealmaster is always appreciated wherever he goes.”

Raijin mouths ‘Menace’ to himself with narrowed eyes. Jiraiya sees the blond visibly decide that the name isn’t worth fighting Jiraiya over. “None of the villages have really felt like home yet, I guess,” the kid says, shrugging. “I wouldn’t mind settling down I think, but the timing just hasn’t been right.”

The Sannin frowns. “What would home be to you?” he asks. 

“Wherever my loved ones are,” Raijin answers immediately, not even needing to pause and think about it. “Somewhere all of us can be safe and happy together. Where we don’t have to worry about needing to fight or run.”

The dream of any war orphan. Jiraiya swallows. It’s a pretty thought, but Raijin is also very clearly someone who no longer has any loved ones left to mean home to him. “Sounds nice,” he comments, deceptively light, even as he strengthens his resolve for when he plans on cashing in his second favour. As soon as they’ve sorted out the Mountains’ Graveyard situation, Jiraiya is going to take this kid to Konoha no matter what. 

Even if it turns out he isn’t actually related to Minato, he thinks Konoha could still be somewhere for Raijin to belong. And if the boy decides he isn’t keen on putting down roots there, Jiraiya will ask for them to travel together. With Raijin’s obvious skill as a budding spymaster, he’d fit right into Jiraiya’s lifestyle. 

“You done with the questions?” the blond asks. “I was expecting a lot worse.”

Jiraiya rolls his eyes. “Yeah? What were you expecting?”

Raijin shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe like a list of every person I’ve ever pissed off—”

“We’d be here forever,” Jiraiya snorts.

“—or you could’ve asked me to rank every ramen stall I’ve tried. Or maybe you could’ve asked about my plan.”

At that, Jiraiya’s eyes narrow slightly. “Your plan?” he repeats. 

Raijin’s grin is too full of teeth to spell anything but trouble. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m going to change the world.”

As soon as they step through the entrance of one of the many hidden tunnels that form the network that Madara and Zetsu are currently residing in, a small, red-furred figure darts out to greet them. 

Sayuri headbutts Raijin's shin, playfully baring her teeth. “Where have you been?” she demands, whining. “I’ve been waiting forever, Rai-chan!”

He relaxes a little at the ‘Rai-chan’. The foxes prefer to use his real name since that is the one on his contract with them and Raijin had spent the last two days concocting increasingly more convoluted lies he could feed Jiraiya about why his summons call him Naruto. He should’ve known it wouldn’t be a problem though. 

Foxes are tricksters down to their core. A bit of subterfuge is child’s play to them. It's preferred even; they probably think it's funny.

“Sorry about that, Sayuri-san,” he says earnestly, scratching behind her ear in apology. “Had to let someone find me first.”

She lets out a rumble of acknowledgement, sharp brown eyes turning to regard Jiraiya, tilting her head when the Sannin very clearly considers her the same way. “This is him?” she asks. 

Raijin nods. “Sayuri-san, meet Jiraiya-san. He’s a strong shinobi from Konoha and has kindly agreed to help us. Jiraiya-san, this is Sayuri-san,” he introduces in turn, clapping his hands together when he’s done. “Now that we’re all familiar with each other, Sayuri-san, please lead the way.”

The fox dips her head and turns tail to do as asked. She leads them through narrowing passages and around tight corners, the air becoming unpleasantly stale the further they venture in. There is the weight of old chakra that only grows heavier as they progress until eventually Jiraiya takes a shuddering breath and chokes on it. 

“That—” He stops, and his eyes are wide. “Is that a bijuu?”

Sayuri tosses her head, her nose twitching as she scents the chakra in the air. “It is something far less natural. More of a vessel. It doesn’t move,” she corrects. “There are two human signatures—one old and one young. And there are three inhuman ones. We are nearing their hiding hole now so you will be able to sense them soon.”

Raijin traces the handle of the kunai in his sleeve. “Jiraiya-san, would you take two of the inhuman ones?”

The Sannin frowns. “Will regular ninjutsu even work on them if they aren’t living beings?”

“Go for the head,” Raijin suggests grimly. “If it doesn’t kill them, it should incapacitate them at the very least. After that, we can just seal them away permanently.”

“And be quick about it,” Sayuri chimes in. “Especially with the black one. He’s slippery. Be fast, stay moving, and don’t stop until he’s down.”

Jiraiya looks between the boy and his fox, something like hesitance passing over his face. 

Glancing at Sayuri, Raijin struggles not to shift uncomfortably. He has done his best to deflect Jiraiya’s prodding and to play dumb but it’s hard to hide just how contrived this scenario is. He can’t let Jiraiya go in too blindly and potentially risk the success of this mission when the entire future hinges on them removing Zetsu from the equation entirely. Unfortunately, he also can’t exactly explain how he knows the things he does. 

“We don’t have much time, Jiraiya-san,” he points out quietly. “This is a hostage situation.”

The look on Jiraiya’s face is still unreadable but he seems willing to set his hangups aside momentarily at least as he straightens to his full height and nods. “Let’s do this.”

Raijin tries to not sigh too obviously in relief. He returns his godfather’s nod and rolls his shoulders. 

Mission: Make Zetsu Eat Shit is officially in motion. 

“The entrance is closed off,” Sayuri informs helpfully when they finally make it to the cavern leading to Madara’s villain lair, as if either shinobi would somehow miss the massive fucking boulder clogging their only in. 

Jiraiya eyes it, mouth pressed into a thin line. “How do you want to deal with that?”

Raijin grins, and he knows it’s a little too manic from the wide stretch of his mouth actually kind of hurting his face. The look of fascinated horror on Jiraiya’s face is a pretty good indicator too. He reaches into his weapons’ pouch and pulls out the not-so-hard-earned fruits of his labour. Raijin has always been very good at making things blow up and he has always been happy to work on improving exploding tags as a pastime.

Now, he shows one such modified tag to Jiraiya smugly. “I’m gonna blow it up.”

Jiraiya sighs, immediately resigned. “Of course you are.”

And blow it up he does. The explosion is glorious.

It’s like the world is ending in the aftermath. The entire cavern shudders and groans threateningly, the earth shaking beneath their feet as the boulder shatters into endless debris and dust that flies absolutely everywhere. There are shouts of panic from inside the cave, and Raijin doesn’t wait before throwing himself into the fray, firing off a mild wind jutsu that clears the dust and debris away enough for him to forge a path through the discord. He knows the cave isn't going to collapse; he spent weeks working on the seal to find the exact amount of force he'd need to prevent a cave-in while still getting his job done. 

He can sense Jiraiya’s chakra following closely behind him, and it settles the last of his nerves. There is no one he’d trust to have his back on this mission more than the man he’d seen as a grandfather in his own timeline. Raijin knows they’re going to win this. 

As soon as he enters the cavern proper, he takes account of where everyone and everything is. White and Black Zetsu are already starting to catch their bearings and turning to defend the entrance, but they're visibly disoriented and panicked from the surprise attack. Raijin ignores them and hurtles further in, making four clones as he goes.

Three of them head off immediately to deal with Tobi while one stays back to watch over a still unconscious Obito. That done, Raijin finally turns his attention to Madara. 

The old man is only just rising to his feet from his throne at the foot of the Demonic Statue, coughing, his sharingan spinning to land on Raijin through the smoke and rubble. “You—” he starts to snarl. 

Raijin doesn’t bother waiting to let the crabby madman finish. He isn’t interested in conversing with this particular enemy; he has heard this particular diatribe before already after all and he hadn't been impressed then either. Perhaps there would be redemption to be had with a saner version of Madara, but this iteration of him is too far gone in his own view and hatred of the world. Raijin will not risk everyone else in the shinobi world for this madman. 

He gets close, distracting Madara with a quick series of slashes with a kunai that are countered by the man’s gunbai before leaping back and putting just enough space between them to make the necessary hand signs. “Fuuton: Wind Cutter Style,” Raijin calls, releasing three massive blades of concentrated wind chakra in rapid succession. 

Madara grits his teeth and throws himself out of the line of attack, but that’s okay. He wasn’t the target to begin with. The blades hit home and sever the syphons that connected Madara to the Demonic Statue, cutting off the man’s supply to chakra. 

The rage that immediately takes over Madara’s pruny face is like a balm to Raijin’s soul. For a second, he wishes he had a sharingan to record the sheer outrage so he could relive it forever and be assured that he would not forget a single detail. 

The effect of being cut off from chakra is instant in the way Madara gasps and hunches over, his frail body shuddering under the overwhelming burden of his age. When he looks up at Raijin, there is fury in his eyes and a bone-deep sort of despair too, because Madara is a genius even through his insanity and he knows that this means he has failed. There will no longer be any chance of him casting this world into an eternal dream for his version of perfect peace. 

He opens his mouth to say something—probably to curse Raijin for ruining his carefully laid out plans and make disparaging comments as the man had been prone to do before Kaguya discarded him as a pawn that had finished playing its part to her satisfaction. It doesn’t matter now.

Raijin smiles grimly and dives in close, condensing the air to augment the metal blade of his kunai. His arm goes up in an arch, tearing through his target. Madara's head rolls to Raijin's feet, and just like that, it's over.

He blinks as the memories of his dispelled clones hit him, confirming that they’d taken care of Tobi in the few minutes it took him to deal with Madara. He casts a cursory glance over to Jiraiya, finding that the Sannin is just about done with his own fight, White Zetsu already taken down and Black Zetsu swiftly losing ground against such a powerful opponent. 

Pleased with how things are turning out, Raijin instead turns his attention to the Demonic Statue. He had trouble with altering the basis of a typical storage seal to allow him to put away something as large and full of chakra as the Statue. Matrices aren’t his strong suit in sealing because of the precision they require in calculation which Raijin finds to be something of a drag. Moreover, he didn’t even know where to begin with trying to quantify just how much chakra the Statue even contained for him to be able to plug it into the formula once he made it. 

In the end, he’d had to circle back to Uzushio and its resources to see if they had something that could help him. Lo and behold, they did. Raijin is seriously so glad for his Uzumaki heritage helping him access the island and its wealth of information. What he’d found was the formula for Uzushio’s method of enacting mass capital punishment. They would basically seal multiple bodies into an object and then the object would be destroyed. Typically, such a destruction performed on a basic storage seal would simply unseal the objects within in a likely damaged state, but Uzushio used an overlaid array coupled with a beast of a formula that would keep the sealed items in their container even as the container deteriorated. 

This is what Raijin has taken and adapted to his personal needs. It had been slightly easier in that he wasn’t sealing organic matter which is a bit of an annoyance to get around. It had also been slightly harder because of the Statue’s crazy amount of chakra potentially frying any array grids and matrices he lays down into his seal. 

Well, if all else fails, his back up plan is just to see if he can set the thing on fire and hoping for the best. Maybe he’ll try to drag it to the nearest active volcano. Or just chuck the whole thing underwater and see if the water pressure will do what he cannot. He could make an adventure out of it.

He pulls out the scroll his seal is laid out on, eyeing the Statue dubiously as he carefully unrolls his precious seal and sticks it to the Statue. Taking a deep breath, Raijin places his hands flat against the seal and pushes his chakra through, making sure it is activated and fueled sufficiently before pulling back hurriedly. The lines of the seal light up with the bright blue of his chakra and then it immediately latches onto the nearest chakra source—the Demonic Statue. For a horrible, heart-stopping moment, there is nothing. 

And then the seal flashes a blinding light that has Raijin yelping and closing his eyes, struggling to blink spots out of his vision as his brain struggles through the sudden assault on his senses. When he can finally see again, the scroll is all that is left behind, curling up innocently on the ground like it doesn’t in fact contain the husk of the legendary Ten Tails. 

Man, Raijin is totally a genius. He just knew that seal was going to work. They should give him a medal or something. 

Whistling happily to himself, he scoops up the scroll and folds it up, tucking it into the pouch strapped to his thigh to set on fire later at his own leisure. 

He pulls out a standard issue storage scroll for Tobi’s body and seals that away too before finally turning to survey the rest of the chamber just as a tired and mildly grossed-out looking Jiraiya starts to head for him, a scroll in his own hand. 

“What do you want to do with these?” he asks, wiping his hand down on his trousers as he approaches. The action leaves a suspicious black stain on Jiraiya’s grey pants. Both he and Raijin stare at it in shared disgust. 

“I’m setting them on fire as soon as possible,” Raijin states bluntly. “I don’t trust that whole artificial human thing they had going on. It was creepy as fuck and it needs to be purged with extreme prejudice at the earliest opportunity.”

Jiraiya shudders, an understanding sort of grimness in his eyes. “Sure, kid,” he agrees. His attention turns to the raised wooden bed behind them. “Check on the hostage yet?”

Raijin shakes his head in answer and turns to do just that, dispelling his clone with a wave. Miraculously, Obito has somehow managed to stay passed out for everything that has just transpired in the past fifteen minutes. Good for him. 

The blond approaches the Uchiha, peering down at a young Uchiha Obito’s face. This version of Obito is still untouched by the grief and despair that had plagued his older self so much. Raijin hopes he can keep it this way. 

Behind him, Jiraiya gasps in disbelief when he finally registers just who their rescued hostage is. “Obito? ” he says, and it comes out too airy, too shrill. His eyes are wide, mouth agape.

In this world, thus far at least, dead shinobi do not come back to life. They never have. Jiraiya understands what that means. “Has he been here this whole time?” the man questions in a whisper. 

Raijin inclines his head. “For at least a week that I know of,” he informs. “You know the kid?”

Jiraiya nods slowly. “My apprentice's student. We believed he died in a cave-in on a mission twelve days ago.”

Humming, Raijin turns back to the prone teenager. He smooths a hand through unkempt black curls, pausing when Obito twitches at the contact. 

“Is he waking up?” Jiraiya asks, crowding closer to watch as the Uchiha’s eyelids flutter and brows furrow. 

One sharingan red eye cracks open, two tomoe spinning in lazy circles as the boy slowly comes to. Raijin can practically see each neuron firing up individually in the chuunin's brain as both he and Jiraiya wait for Obito to catch his bearings with baited breath. Gaze turning to the man whose warm hand is still carding gently through his hair, Obito’s eye widens. “Sensei?” he croaks out, voice breaking on the syllables. 

He’d woken up only once before, when he’d met Uchiha Madara and been told that he would not be allowed to return to Konoha. He had tried to get away anyways, but failed because half of his body was trying to reconstruct itself using the Shodaime’s cells that had been implanted in him after he’d been taken out of the cave-in that he was sure would kill him.

Obito had prayed then, viscerally and desperately, calling out to Amaterasu and begging her to help him go home. He wanted to see the sky and the trees again, and talk to all the grannies and grandpas who gossiped with him in the village, and bicker with Kakashi, and hear Rin’s laugh. He wanted to eat ramen with Kushina and see Minato smile proudly at him. He wanted someone to rescue him. 

And someone did. They came for him even though he’d been half ready to give up on the thought because everyone would probably just assume he died in that stupid cave. They had come for him and now he’d be okay. He’d be okay because Minato was here and Minato would make sure Obito would get home in a flash. 

Achingly familiar bright blue eyes crinkle into a smile. 

“Not quite, kiddo,” the blond man says, and Obito frowns, tensing, because that isn’t Minato’s voice. “We’ll get you to your sensei soon enough.”

“You sure gave us all quite a scare.” Obito blinks, not having realised that Jiraiya was there too. He relaxes again. Jiraiya would look after him. The Sannin was capable and strong. “Glad to see you alive, Obito-kun.”

Which is nice to hear and all, but it doesn’t tell Obito why this guy looks exactly like Minato. 

“Are—” he starts and has to stop because his throat is exceptionally dry. He licks his lips and tries again. “Are you Minato-sensei’s brother?” He thought that sensei didn’t have any other family but maybe he remembered wrong. What if Obito brained himself on all those rocks and just…forgot about sensei’s brother? What if he was delusional and made up his life in Konoha? What if his name isn’t even Uchiha Obito? Holy shit—

“I don’t have any siblings,” the blond guy interrupts his train of thought, idly ruffling Obito’s hair before finally pulling away. Obito tries not to miss the warmth from the physical contact too obviously. That'd be embarrassing. He isn't so touch starved to be acting that pathetic around a guy he doesn't even know yet. “My name is Raijin.”

“He’s an unaffiliated shinobi,” Jiraiya supplies, but the meaningful look of understanding he’s wearing tells Obito he isn’t totally crazy for thinking that Raijin might be Minato’s long-lost twin brother or something. “His fox summon is the one who realised you were stuck down here and then he brought me along to rescue you.”

“Oh.” Obito turns back to Raijin, the weight of gratefulness settling deep inside him. “Thanks, Raijin-san. I’d kind of figured I’d be stuck until I could try to get away by myself. I owe you one.”

Raijin grins at him, and it isn’t Minato’s gentle smile but something brighter and toothier that Obito decides he quite likes too. “Don’t worry about it, kid,” he says. “Now let’s get you home, yeah?”

Obito swallows the lump in his throat, unable to help but tear up at the thought of getting his life back. He’d been ready to die during the Kannabi Bridge mission, and he doesn't regret sacrificing himself for his friends, but he’s so damn thankful that it hasn’t all ended for him yet. That he gets to go back and spend his days with the precious people in his life again. 

“Yeah,” he chokes out. “Take me home please.”

Raijin’s face softens. His hands are warm when they gently tug Obito into his arms as he can carefully lift the boy up and off the bed. 

“You got it, Obito-kun. You’re going to be just fine now.”

Chapter Text

Minato thinks he might be on his way to setting some sort of record for the most nervous breakdowns one can narrowly avoid in the span of five days. 

Kushina, of course, thinks it’s all too amusing. 

He might’ve been inclined to agree with her if something like this was happening to any other person. It’s all so unbelievably like something out of a civilian soap opera that it has got to be prime entertainment for everyone that isn’t Namikaze Minato. Unfortunately, he is in fact Namikaze Minato, and this is his reality even if his brain still hasn’t quite managed to wrap around this fact. 

It started roughly three or four months ago. Someone had been going around making waves in the more underground side of the shinobi scene, collecting bounties on several strong ninja in what had seemed like an insane beginning streak. They displayed impressive proficiency with wind releases but also had been noted to be able to use water, earth and fire releases with varying measures of skill. Some rumours mentioned seals as well, but nobody knew whether to believe those or not. Fuuinjutsu takes years of dedicated study under another master and is a skill always waiting to be snatched up by one of the hidden villages; it's unlikely for a sealmaster to be bounty hunting. 

The reason this someone had immediately pinged on so many people’s radars, however, was because of their looks. More specifically, for their resemblance to one Yellow Flash of Konoha. 

Minato hadn’t exactly been pleased when at first people had thought that it was him running around the Elemental Nations and causing general mayhem. He has been quite busy in between frontline battles and trying to teach Team 7, thank you very much. He hardly needs more enemies he didn't even make out for his blood.

And then it is revealed that this lookalike troublemaker may or may not be Minato’s relative, and Minato really doesn’t know what to think about that. 

Two-thirds of the Sannin and Nara Shikaku are certainly convinced that this Raijin person is very likely a first or second generation relation to him. With the vote of confidence from people as accomplished and shrewd as these, Minato is leaning towards believing them, except that his brain keeps butting in with doubts because he knows that if it turns out that he and the Kogane no Arashi just happen to look similar without an ounce of shared blood between them, Minato is going to be crushed under the disappointment of almost having something he hasn't even dared to dream of only to have it ben taken away at the very last second. Minato knows he is strong—among the strongest even—but he doesn’t think he could handle something like that. It'd be far too cruel, even for him.

Then as if that isn’t enough fuel for mental anguish, Jiraiya sends the Hokage a toad with more news for Minato: Obito is alive. 

Apparently, while Minato has spent the past two weeks mourning with the certainty that it was his failure as a teacher and commander that got the boy killed, Obito has in fact been alive and held hostage somewhere in the Mountains’ Graveyard. The only reason he has been saved and is now on his way to Konoha? Minato’s maybe-relative. 

According to Jiraiya’s brief message, Raijin had approached him with a deal in exchange for Jiraiya’s assistance in rescuing a young Konoha shinobi that he’d heard was being held in the abandoned mines of the Mountains’ Graveyard. While Raijin had known it was an Uchiha, he had no clue who Uchiha Obito actually is—he’d just wanted to help a kid in need when he was the only one in position to do so. 

The three of them are due to arrive any day now, and Minato has spent the days since Jiraiya’s heads up worrying himself sick. He’s concerned about Obito’s wellbeing—mental and physical. Being held hostage is no easy thing to recover from for jounin even and that's when it doesn't near-death experiences or career ending injuries. He doesn’t know what exactly he's going to need to do to help Obito recover from this, but he doesn’t care about what it’s going to take. Minato refuses to fail his student again. 

He’s also worried about Kakashi and Rin. They’d been informed of the situation and all of Team 7 had had to sit for a while to just soak in the news. Minato had then had to physically restrain Kakashi from dropping everything and running out to intercept Obito and escort him back to Konoha himself. It’s the liveliest Kakashi has been since Kannabi Bridge, which is understandable, but Minato worries about the codependency this might lead to developing between his students and how it is likely to affect all of them. He isn’t quite sure how to deal with something like that either. 

And lastly, he’s indescribably nervous about finally getting to meet the Kogane no Arashi. Minato keeps trying to tamp down on the hope that swells like a volcano ready to blow within him, but he’s kind of failing on that front. He can practically taste the bitter longing on his tongue already, and feel its anxious buzzing in the tips of his fingertips. 

He doesn’t want to risk hyping himself over it too much only to find out that there is really no relation to be had with this strange shinobi who he already owes so much to for saving his student. Or even worse, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if it turns out that Raijin is in fact Minato’s family but the younger man doesn’t want anything to do with him. 

It’s possible after all. Minato may have grown up in a shinobi village with a cause to devote himself to and a dream of belonging, but it isn’t necessary that Raijin will be the same. From his understanding, the other boy has spent much of his life travelling. If he’s anything like Jiraiya in that sense, it would mean that his tie to Minato probably wouldn't be enough for him to stick around in Konoha. Why would he choose to be bogged down in a strange village caught in a war for a strange shinobi when he could live on his own terms and be free to roam the continent as he pleases?

What could Minato possibly give to this young man that would compel him to stay for his sake?

What wouldn’t Minato give to have a brother who’d stay just for him?

And then, before he knows it, it’s too late to keep wondering about questions he has no answers to. 

The village is abuzz with the arrival of its newest visitors and Minato holds his breath as the whispers start about a young man at Konoha’s gates who looks startlingly like the Yellow Flash. 

Raijin has finally made it to Konoha.

Hiruzen takes one step into the hospital building and smiles wryly at the chattering and hushed whispers. It’s not as though activity ever ceases here when there are always sick and injured to tend to, but he knows he isn’t just imagining the extra…zest in the air today. 

Shinobi can try to act stoic and emotionless all they like, but they’re the worst when it comes to gossip. In a village of ninjas where secrets are the norm, the irony is that nothing ever stays hidden for long thanks to their profession and the inherent nosiness that comes with it. 

And, well, given how popular the target of current discussion is, it’s no surprise at all. 

In fact, he’d even been counting on it. There’s a reason Hiruzen is personally looking forward to potentially recruiting the Kogane no Arashi to their village. Sure, the boy has begun to cultivate an objectively admirable reputation for his age already, but Hiruzen is more concerned with the potential boost to morale and firepower that having another hard-hitting frontliner like Minato would bring to his forces. 

Under normal circumstances, it is unusual for one shinobi to catapult to such status of respect and fascination, especially when considering how young Minato really is. But at twenty-one, the young man is in his prime as a genius powerhouse of a shinobi. He is intelligent, well-spoken, handsome and strong. There is something to be said about someone with such strong charisma showing up just when people need someone to turn to.

Hiruzen can hardly be blamed for trying to capitalise on an opportunity to potentially add another such shinobi to his ranks. Perhaps if the Sannin had still been functioning as a unit, he wouldn’t be quite so greedy, but with Tsunade’s departure and Jiraiya and Orochimaru barely on speaking terms, it can’t be helped. His students are still strong and their presence has its own effect on his other fighters, but Konoha could use another ‘hero’ to rally behind. Orochimaru isn’t approachable enough and Jiraiya spends too much time away from the village for either of them to be such a figure on their own.

From what he has heard of Raijin, however, Hiruzen is tentatively hopeful that this boy could be what he’s looking for. Jiraiya says Raijin is smart, adaptable, resourceful and charming in that way lively and ambitious young people tend to be. Hiruzen is always looking to get capable shinobi like that working under him. 

He resists the urge to start humming a song he’d heard Biwako singing in the kitchen early that morning, clasping his hands behind his back as he strolls through hospital corridors to where they are currently keeping Obito while he recovers from his near-death and subsequent kidnapping. 

The thought of that puts a damper on Hiruzen’s previous good mood. To think, someone had not only acquired the Shodaime’s cells and experimented with them in such a way, they had also gone on to then implant them into a Konoha shinobi for reasons to only be disclosed to him in person at Jiraiya’s personal request. The medics have concluded that the cells are the only reason they’re even expecting Obito to be able to make a full recovery but it is likely there might be some…unforeseen consequences. 

It isn’t as though the reappearance of Mokuton would ever be a bad thing, but to have it be this way…that too in an Uchiha of all people. As if Hiruzen didn’t have enough on his political plate with fighting a war. Suddenly feeling really very tired and old, Hiruzen sighs as he steps into Obito’s ward. 

Immediately, his eyes are drawn to the young man at Jiraiya’s side. He blinks. The resemblance is certainly undeniable. 

Jiraiya is giving him a knowing look when Hiruzen turns his attention back to his student. “It’s good to see you again, sensei,” he says, and it might be the wishful thinking of an old man, but Hiruzen thinks his student’s eyes are warmer than they have been in a while. He wonders what had brought this new measure of lightness, however small it may be, to Jiraiya. 

“Indeed it is, Jiraiya-kun,” he replies, earnest. Always earnest. He really does miss his team. Even more so now that it seems they have all drifted so apart and Hiruzen doesn’t know quite when he let slip the ability to pull them back together. 

Time truly does pass by far too quickly. 

He turns to Obito who immediately jolts to attention under his gaze. “How are you feeling, Obito-kun?”

“Fine!” the boy blurts out. Then, realising that he is in a hospital bed because half of his body is recovering from being crushed, he amends, “I mean, not that fine, obviously. But I’m okay. Mostly. Kind of.” Obito stops, mouth clicking shut audibly as he flashes a sheepish smile. “Thank you for asking?”

At least he isn’t acting too out of character. 

“I’m glad to hear that, Obito-kun,” Hiruzen says kindly. “We are very happy to have you back. Minato must be on his way now to see you as well.” He turns back to the only stranger in the room. “And you must be Raijin-kun?”

The blond blinks. An odd, unreadable expression passes over his face and vanishes before Hiruzen can try to decipher it. “Yes.” He dips into a shallow bow. Admittedly, it is a little inappropriate given Hiruzen's station, but he's hardly going to be a stickler about formalities on such an occasion. “It’s nice to meet you, Hokage-sama.”

Hiruzen nods. “The pleasure is all mine, Raijin-kun. Thank you for helping return one of our shinobi to us.”

“Not at all.” Raijin waves his hands. “I just did what anyone should have.”

Rolling his eyes, Jiraiya delivers a harsh smack to Raijin’s back. “Look at you getting all humble now, brat,” he drawls, grinning when Raijin shoots him a vicious glare for the manhandling. “Doesn’t suit you at all.” Jiraiya’s grin only widens as Raijin’s glare becomes more incensed. 

Hiruzen watches in fond amusement. It’s nice to see Jiraiya acting carefree again. For all his larger-than-life persona and general friendliness, Jiraiya still prefers to keep people at a distance and play at a mask of joviality rather than allow himself the joy of true bonds. Perhaps it stems from losing so much and then choosing such a solitary lifestyle unless Hiruzen demands his presence for missions and battles, but whatever the case, it is relieving to see that Jiraiya might have found another friend in this boy. At least enough for him to joke around with Raijin as he only does with Minato these days; as he used to do with his team before things went so wrong for them. 

“I could just judge for myself, Jiraiya-kun, if you’d make your report,” Hiruzen interrupts smoothly when it looks like Raijin is seriously starting to consider stabbing Jiraiya, first impressions be damned. 

Jiraiya straightens at that, sobering up instantly. “That is a rather…sensitive subject, sensei,” he admits, each word coming out too mindful, 

Hiruzen’s eyebrows rise. 

Humming, Raijin casts a quick glance around the room. “You might like some privacy before you have that conversation,” he says. “We did happen upon a secret of particular relevance to Konoha.”

“This is with regards to Obito-kun’s captor?” Hiruzen confirms, frowning when he receives nods in answer. “Very well then. Let us table this conversation until Obito-kun has recovered enough to recount the events for himself in the safety of my office.”

Before anything else can be said to that, the door to the ward is being slid open once again, revealing a slightly out-of-breath Minato standing in the doorway. Hiruzen lifts a brow at the blond’s dishevelled appearance. It’s clear that Minato ran all the way over, perhaps as soon as he received word of his student’s whereabouts. 

“Oh.” Minato blinks, straightening as he registers all the other people in the room. His eyes widen ever so slightly, lingering where they have landed on Raijin. The younger boy stares back, his shoulders tensing and posture becoming deliberately still. Quietly, Minato repeats, “Oh.”

“Indeed,” Hiruzen says, breaking the fragile air in the room and grounding them once again. He can venture a guess to what Minato must be feeling now, but it’d do no good to have this conversation with the door open for the world to see. “Come on in, Minato-kun.”

Minato straightens and does as instructed. “Right. Of course, Hokage-sama. My apologies.” The door clicks shut behind him. The shock having dispersed for now, Minato immediately turns his attention to Obito, making a beeline for the boy. “Oh, Obito-kun.”

“Hi, Minato-sensei,” Obito greets, his eye suspiciously bright. “Boy am I happy to see you again.”

A wet chuckle makes its way out of Minato’s throat as the blond reaches to carefully take his student into his arms. “I’m so glad you’re alive. So, so glad.” Obito’s fingers are curled tightly in the fabric of his teacher’s flak jacket, both of them trembling. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to you in time, Obito. I’m sorry I failed you as your sensei. I’m so sorry.”

Hiruzen looks away at that. “Perhaps we ought to give them some privacy,” he suggests softly, tilting his head towards the door. Jiraiya and Raijin are practically falling out the door before he has even finished. 

They take the seats in the waiting area outside the ward, Hiruzen and Jiraiya sitting across from Raijin. The boy’s shoulders are relaxed again but his eyes are still bright and alert where they regard Hiruzen with an open sort of curious consideration. 

“I suppose that was the guy Obito mistook me for,” Raijin says, breaking the silence before Hiruzen can. 

Jiraiya snorts. “Can you blame him?” he poses rhetorically. “I’d already heard from Tsunade that you looked like him and even then I was surprised.”

Crossing his arms, Raijin rolls his eyes. It’s such petulant teenager behaviour, Hiruzen can’t help his mouth twitching up in amusement. 

“We don’t look that alike,” Raijin grumbles. “Kind of, I guess, but not so much that it should be this surprising to you people.”

Hiruzen coughs. “Well, your colouring is rather unusual by Land of Fire standards, you see. It is rather striking to most people from here.”

“And it’s more than just the hair and eyes,” Jiraiya chimes in. “I really do think you could be related, Menace.”

Raijin says nothing to that, but his hands curl into fists in his lap. There is something rather sad on his face as he lowers his gaze to his hands and furrows his brows. 

Eyeing the younger shinobi carefully, Hiruzen leans forward tentatively and softly suggests, “I do not think there is any harm in conducting a DNA test if you are not opposed to it, Raijin-kun.” 

The fluorescent lighting of the hospital gleams off electric blue eyes uncannily when Raijin’s gaze snaps to Hiruzen’s. “And what next?” he asks. “What will you do with the results?”

“I’d offer you a place in this village as one of my shinobi.”

“Even if it turns out I’m not related to this guy?” Raijin challenged, leaning back in his seat. 

“Yes,” Hiruzen responds evenly. “You are proficient at ninjutsu and taijutsu, and I will always welcome another sealing master to the village. Moreover, you have helped rescue one of our shinobi without asking for anything in return even when we’d assumed him dead.”

The intensity of Raijin’s gaze does not fade. “And if I don’t want to stay?”

“I’d insist on you accepting a reward and being labelled a friend of Konoha so our shinobi know not to fear you. I’d also ask you to refrain from attacking them unwarranted in the future.”

For a moment, Raijin is quiet, lips pressed in a thin line as he visibly considers Hiruzen’s claims. Finally, he asks, “And what if we are related? What then?”

Ah. Hiruzen had forgotten that this is just a nineteen-year-old orphan being told he might have a family of his own after all. A boy who might get an older brother who wants to know and grow to love him after having no one to rely on except for himself. Someone being offered protection and unconditional belonging. It must be terrifying. 

Gently, Hiruzen says, “I’m afraid you and Minato-kun will have to figure that one out for yourselves, Raijin-kun. All I can say on the matter is that Konoha will be happy to gain a shinobi of your skills and I will ensure your immigration goes through smoothly.”

Raijin is quiet for several tense heartbeats. Beside Hiruzen, Jiraiya holds himself still as if he is afraid to disturb the moment. At last, the boy sighs and nods his head once. “Fine. Let’s do the test.”

Hiruzen tries not to look too outwardly pleased.

Raijin tries not to look too outwardly concerned. 

On the inside, he’s totally freaking out about what he’s going to do if the DNA test proclaims him as Minato’s son. Or even worse, as Minato and Kushina’s son even though they absolutely shouldn’t be comparing his bloodwork to anyone else’s for no reason. 

It’s not like it’d even make sense to anyone except for him. No sane person is logically going to make the leap to time travel. They’re likely to come up with the most plausible theory on their own and, if things get bad, all he’d have to do is act just enough to confirm those suspicions. But that’s too complicated for Raijin who prefers taking as direct a path as possible. He’s likely to screw it all up if he has to remember another stack of lies and backstory just to fit in.

At that point, his best bet would be to somehow escape Konoha and secretly infiltrate later just to kill Danzou. 

With that old bastard gone, Konoha should be good to avoid most major tragedies that marked the weakening of their village. Minato can handle the rest on his own when he becomes Hokage.

Raijin makes a face at that. His dad isn’t even Yondaime Hokage yet. He looked so young. The purpose of the seal was to locate a point in time when Raijin would be the same age as his closest blood relatives, so he shouldn’t be surprised. If anything, had space-time not been so difficult to manoeuvre, he would have probably been plopped into the timeline right when his parents were both his age instead of being two years older as they are now. 

It works out better for him this way since just siblings is more plausible than straight up being twins separated at birth, but it’s just so strange to see his father at twenty-one. 

Minato hadn’t looked much like the Yondaime Hokage he’s still growing up to be. There hadn’t been as much certainty and pride in the way he held himself, and he hadn’t been quite so unreadable either. Raijin remembers his father to have been a clever man who knew how to hide behind his easy smiles and friendly persona because he was used to always being watched carefully for weakness. 

This Minato had worn his heart on his sleeve from the moment he laid eyes on Raijin in that hospital room. There had been such unconcealed wonder written all over his face, a tentative hope in his cautious smile, coupled with the hesitance of fear in the way he had frozen, as if any movement would result in Raijin disappearing from his sight. 

To be fair, hardly anyone can be expected to keep their emotions in check when being posed with the potential member of a family they’ve never been able to have. Not to mention that Minato’s student was literally lying in the room after the man had mourned his death. Minato deserves some slack there. 

But Raijin can’t shake the memory of having those expressions and feelings directed at him. It’s not like he has ever had a blood family either even if he has been lucky enough to have gotten to at least meet his parents once. He even got to fight alongside the Edo Tensei zombified version of his dad briefly. He still can’t help feeling caught off-guard though. To see Minato there in the flesh—it had been nothing Raijin could have prepared himself for. 

And he doesn’t think he’s ready to face any of the people he has lost, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice. Not when he can hear Minato’s arrival outside the door of the hotel room Raijin has been put up in for now by the Hokage. 

The test results must be out then. Raijin inhales deeply and tells himself he is not going to throw up in front of Minato during their first proper meeting. 

Before Minato can knock, he has already unlocked and opened the door. 

“Oh.” Minato blinks. He offers Raijin an uncertain sort of smile that veers on the border of being dangerously hopeful enough that it makes Raijin’s heart ache. “Hi.”

If nothing, his dad’s awkwardness manages to somewhat make him feel better. Since he hasn’t been knocked out and dragged to T&I yet, they probably haven’t figured out how exactly Raijin is related to Minato. He can work with this. 

He pulls up a tentative smile of his own. “Hey,” he returns, shifting his weight. “You’re Namikaze Minato.” Immediately he cringes. ‘Nice going, dumbass. You sound like a fawning civilian.’

But Minato’s smile is edging into something surer, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Yeah. And you’re Raijin.” He lifts his hand, showing the packet of papers he’s holding. “The test results are out.”

Wordlessly, Raijin steps aside and gestures for the other man to come in. “Have you—” He pauses. “Have you, uh, taken a look yet?”

Minato glances at him carefully, like he’s trying to discover all of Raijin’s secrets just by looking. “I have,” he admits cautiously, slowly sliding the packet across the room’s little dining table for Raijin to take a look. “They’ve come back pretty conclusively.”

Raijin hums, leafing through the papers full of medical jargon he is completely unfamiliar with. Not like he needs to know what they're saying to know the truth. “First generation relatives,” he reads out. 

Fingers tapping on the table, Minato nods. He doesn’t once take his eyes off Raijin. “They couldn’t figure out if we were full-blooded siblings or just half. Ideally, they’d have the DNA of a parent to test both of ours against, which is obviously not possible for you and I. Genetics just hasn’t come that far yet, especially in shinobi villages, because of war and–”

“So we’re brothers,” Raijin cuts in, feeling completely detached from his own reality. He is just overwhelmingly relieved to not be getting carted off for torture and interrogation. 

Minato’s mouth clicks shut. He looks dumbfounded in the aftermath of having the words spoken out loud to him, that too by the 'brother' in question. “Yeah,” he manages, blinking rapidly. “Yeah, we are.” His shoulders hunch forward ever so slightly. “Is—Are you okay with that?”

Is he? It’s certainly strange to be declared a brother to the man who is actually his father. But then again, this Minato isn’t his dad. Not really. He’s just a bit too young and unsure and careful. And it would feel kind of wrong to look for his father in this person. Raijin is an orphan—there isn’t any changing that, and he doesn’t want to replace his parents for anything, even if it’s with another version of them. His mum and dad sacrificed everything just to give him a shot at living. He’s never going to forget that. But that doesn't mean he can ignore the visceral want to be allowed this either.

“Yes,” he decides eventually. “Brothers is—it’s good. I’m more than okay with that. You?”

“Yes,” Minato says immediately, a quiet sort of awe in his eyes as he looks at Raijin. “Hokage-sama said he offered for you to join Konoha?”

Raijin nods. “He did,” he confirms. “I’m probably going to take him up on it too.”

At this, Minato brightens. “You are?” he asks, and it’s like looking at the sun with the way he’s beaming at Raijin. “You’re thinking about staying here?”

Raijin swallows. It's a lot to be looked at like that—like a miracle of some sort. “I am,” he says slowly. “I'm probably never going to get a better reason to stay anywhere."

Minato bites his lip. “Raijin, I—” he starts. Stops. Starts again. “I’ve never been anyone else’s family before. I’ve been told there’s no right or wrong way to go about it but I’m not quite sure about how it all works,” he admits. Visibly, he steels himself, straightening up when he looks at Raijin. “I may not know how to be an older brother yet, and we have a lot to get to know about each other, but I want you to know that I’m going to do my best.”

For a moment, Raijin can only sit and stare at the man across from him in dumbfounded silence. Finally, he remembers he should probably say or do something, so he nods quickly. “Right,” he says. “Yes. Yeah.” He shakes his head, and he can’t do anything to stop the smile that breaks out on his face or the tears that well in his eyes. When he looks up at Minato, he doesn’t try to hide either of them. “Me too. Let’s do our best, Minato-san.”

Minato grins back and it feels a lot like everything is going to turn out alright.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe I’ve only just woken up and you’re already trying to seal me away,” Kurama grumbles, cracking a jaw-breaking yawn in his and Raijin’s shared mindscape. 

Raijin rolls his eyes. “I’m not trying to seal you away,” he argues. “I’m just trying to figure out a way to stop the universe from breaking because there’s two of you in this timeline.”

Kurama huffs. “I should’ve just stayed asleep.”

Snorting, Raijin makes sure to exaggerate his incredulous expression just to annoy his friend. “You couldn’t possibly sleep anymore,” he says. “It has to be impossible.”

The fox shoots him a smile full of massive teeth as he leers closer. “You wanna bet, brat?”

Raijin pushes his snout away. “Absolutely not. You’re not sleeping anymore, okay? I’ve been lonely without you.”

Huffing again, Kurama shakes his head at Raijin and tucks his paws beneath him to settle down. “Pathetic as always,” he grumbles, but he can’t hide the impression of fondness that travels through their emotional link. 

The blond grins, leaning his weight back on his hands. “Sure,” he drawls. “Just admit you’re glad to hear my voice again, you old grump.”

“I’d rather eat one of my own tails than listen to your screeching,” Kurama declares decisively, closing his eyes.

“Hey, my voice is lovely!” Raijin crosses his arms. “You could be nicer, you know. I really did miss you.”

Cracking one eye open, Kurama considers him for a moment. Finally, he huffs and reaches out just enough to carefully nose at Raijin’s hair. “Whatever,” he rumbles, but it’s half-hearted at best and he doesn’t even complain when his jinchuuriki throws himself forward to rest against Kurama’s paw.

“My new fox summons have been dying to meet you,” Raijin informs. “I’ll introduce you later.”

Kurama makes a noise of acknowledgement. “Better than those hideous toads at least,” he mutters, snapping his teeth when Raijin smacks at him. 

“Toads are cute!” 

“You’re the only one insane enough to think that, blondie.”

“They are!”

The fox shifts purely to dislodge Raijin and make him yelp. “Quit shouting or I’ll kick you out,” he grumbles. 

Raijin frowns at him. “You can’t kick me out of my own mind,” he protests.

“That’s what you think,” Kurama tells him, licking at his teeth lazily. “Now, how much of a mess have you made in my absence?”

Blowing a raspberry, Raijin crosses his arms. “For your information, I’ve made zero messes while you were gone. Things have gone just as planned.” When Kurama only eyes him in disbelieving silence, Raijin squawks. “I’m being serious! I stopped Akatsuki from going evil, prevented Gaara’s shitty seal, saved Obito and killed Zetsu. I've already destroyed the Demonic Statue too.”

“You did all that?”

“You fucking bet I did.” Raijin puffs out his chest. 

Kurama rumbles, huffing hot air in his face. “Well, what do you know, I guess miracles do happen,” he comments, but there’s the tremor of laughter in his voice at Raijin’s subsequent whining. “And you’re in that village of yours again?”

Raijin pouts at the fox’s bullying but settles down for now. “Yeah,” he nods. “Only got here earlier today. They’ve already confirmed that I’m related to my dad.”

Ears perking up at that, Kurama says, “Oh?”

“Yeah. They tested us and figured we’ve got to be brothers since we’re definitely first generation relatives,” Raijin informs. 

Kurama eyes him contemplatively. “And you’re fine with this?”

Shrugging, Raijin leans into his friend’s warmth, threading his fingers through soft fur. “I guess so, yeah. It’s definitely super weird, but—” he pauses, biting his lip in thought. “He isn’t really my dad, you know. Not yet, anyways. He’s gonna have a Naruto of his own someday in any case, and that’s fine because he’s not my dad. Does that make sense?” Raijin shakes his head. “I mean, I’m just glad I’m getting to know him like this. Mum too eventually.”

“I see,” Kurama replies evenly. 

“Yeah.” Raijin looks up at his friend. “I’m gonna save them, Kurama. And when they have a Naruto of their own, I’m gonna make sure he gets all the things I didn’t, including a super awesome uncle. All of them are gonna be safe and happy this time around.”

Kurama noses at Raijin’s hair again, rumbling. “Okay, kit.”

Smiling, Raijin shoots to his feet, all but startling the fox. “Alright! Now let’s figure out a seal to hide you from the past, grumpier version of you.”

Raijin isn’t really all that bothered about the number of people who do doubletakes upon seeing him stroll through Konoha’s streets. He’s used to the villagers staring at him after nearly a lifetime of it. At least none of them are glaring or outright swearing at him this time round. 

Obito, however, doesn’t look very convinced when Raijin tells him this. 

“Are you sure, Raijin-san?” he asks. “That nurse was totally staring at you earlier too. It’s got to be annoying.”

Shrugging, Raijin leans back in his chair and flashes Obito an easy smile. “I can hardly blame them for wanting to look,” he says, winking for good measure and grinning when Obito huffs out a laugh. “It really isn’t a big deal, Obito-kun. Shinobi villages are just nosy like that.”

Obito leans forward slightly, excitement gleaming in his eye. “You must’ve travelled a lot, right?”

“Sure have,” Raijin confirms. “I was in Suna recently actually. Have you ever been, Obito-kun?”

Wrinkling his nose, Obito shakes his head. “Genin aren’t really allowed out of the village much thanks to the war,” he explains. “This was my, uh, first mission as chuunin.”

Raijin winces. “Well, you haven’t missed much in Suna at least,” he says. “It was just as hot as always, and even weirder than usual.”

“Weirder?” Obito tilts his head. 

Raijin nods emphatically. “Yeah! The whole village was convinced there was some ghost or something haunting everyone. They had a whole bunch of exorcists come in and everything. It was insane!”

Eye narrowing, Obito looks at Raijin intensely. “No way,” he declares. “You’re lying to me.”

“Am not!” Raijin swears, hand on his chest. “Suna really is just that weird. One day, you’ll see for yourself, and you’ll regret not believing me when it catches you off guard.”

At this, Obito droops. “You really think I’ll get to see for myself?” he asks. “Even though I’m stuck like this now?” He gestures to the half of him that is still completely bound in bandages and casts to allow the tissue to finish regenerating unhindered. 

Softening, Raijin reaches out to squeeze Obito’s shoulder reassuringly. “You’re going to be fine eventually, Obito-kun,” he tells the boy with the kind of certainty only a time-traveller can have. “It’s going to be a lot of hard work, but I have no doubt that you’ll get better and become a great ninja. Don’t lose heart, okay?”

Obito tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, frowning down at his lap. “How do you know it’s going to be okay?” he asks, and he means for it to be a demand but it comes out too desperate, too honest. 

Raijin shrugs. “Call it instinct?” he tries. When Obito looks entirely unconvinced, he sighs. “Look, Obito-kun, no ordinary shinobi would have survived half the shit you went through in the past two weeks. Surviving the cave-in, surviving the cell implantation, surviving the crazy grandpa who’d kidnapped you, and then making it through to your rescue—that’s a lot to get through, and you did all that. That’s how I know you have it in you to grit your teeth and stick it through the rest of the way until you’re stronger than you ever were.”

“You really think so?” Obito asks, voice wavering and eye wide as it is trained on Raijin. 

“Of course, kid,” Raijin tells him. “I know so.”

A wobbly smile on his face, Obito says, “Thanks, Raijin-san. I appreciate it.”

Raijin ruffles the boy’s dark curls and grins. “Anytime, Obito-kun.”

Obito opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, there’s a knock on the door. As both occupants of the room turn to face the door, it is slid open to reveal two people that Raijin really shouldn’t be surprised to see. 

“Rin-chan!” Obito exclaims, shooting up so he can see around Raijin. “Bakashi! You guys came!”

‘Holy shit,’ Raijin thinks distantly, trying not to openly gape at the newcomers, ‘Kakashi-sensei is tiny.’

“We told you we’d be coming by yesterday, silly,” Rin says, but her voice sounds choked with emotion. “Ah,” her gaze slides to Raijin, “can we come in?”

“Of course.” Raijin grins at her, standing up and waving the kids over to sit. “You must be the teammates Obito-kun has told me about. Rin and Kakashi, right?”

Rin returns his smile, gently nudging Kakashi till the boy nods in greeting too, albeit with a frown on his face. “Yeah, that’s us. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Raijin,” the blond points to himself. 

“Minato-sensei’s brother,” Kakashi notes, eye narrowing almost imperceptibly. 

Raijin really is having a hard time looking at this miniature version of his sensei. Who knew Kakashi had been this short and skinny as an eleven-year-old? Or this scowly for that matter. Seriously, is this why Kakashi had always gotten that weird look on his face every time Sasuke so much as opened his mouth when they were all genin?

Deciding to put off exploring that thought for a later date, Raijin shrugs at the preteen. “Apparently so, yeah.”

Rin clasps her hands together. “It’s wonderful that you’ve both found each other!” she says, her smile causing the purple clan markings on her cheeks to scrunch up. “It’s like something out of a story.”

“Like a civilian drama,” Raijin agrees, nodding emphatically. “I’m still getting used to it myself. It has only been a day after all.”

Kakashi tilts his head. “You’re staying in the village?”

“I will be, yes,” Raijin confirms. “Hokage-sama was kind enough to offer me a place among Konoha’s ranks. They still have to sort out my immigration and stuff first though.”

“Ooo,” Obito leans forward, “do you know what rank you’ll be? You’ve got to at least be a tokubetsu jounin, right?”

Rin frowns thoughtfully. “There’s a test for that sort of thing, isn’t there?”

Kakashi nods. “Hasn’t been done since the third war started though. Immigration has been on hold to prevent potential espionage.” He turns to eye Raijin contemplatively. “They’re really making an exception for you.”

Eyebrow lifting, Raijin shrugs. “It actually isn’t quite on hold,” he corrects. “Shinobi are still able to join Konoha even during the war so long as they have a credible sponsor on one of the village councils. Most of them just happen to be branch members of existing clans who get by on field promotions so it goes kind of unnoticed by most.”

“Really?” Rin blinks. “I had no idea.”

“You sure know a lot, Raijin-san!” Obito comments, smiling brightly. 

Kakashi hums, still watching Raijin apprehensively. 

The blond snorts. “I’ve never been accused of knowing a lot before,” he informs openly, grinning. Sakura would laugh herself silly if she ever got wind of this. “I’m just nosy. It’s kind of an occupational hazard.”

It’s not like he can tell them that the older versions of Tsunade and Kakashi had taken it upon themselves to drill everything they could about Konoha’s functions and politics into his head in some sort of desperate bid to officially pass on leadership to him before both of their deaths. 

Obito looks unconvinced. “Aren’t you, like, a spymaster? Like Jiraiya-san?”

Both Rin and Kakashi look interested in this information. 

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Raijin shrugs. “I wouldn’t say spymaster, but I did have a network to stay informed,” he admits. “Both Jiraiya-san and I use a combination of contacts and summons to do it.”

“You have summons?” Rin asks. 

“Foxes!” Obito tells her before Raijin can. “I met one when Raijin-san and Jiraiya-sama came to get me. She was fluffy and red.” He pauses thoughtfully before adding, “Kind of like Kushina-san’s hair.”

Kakashi sighs, shaking his head even as Rin giggles. 

“Don’t let her hear you say that or you’ll be done for, Obito-kun,” she warns playfully. 

“Kushina-san,” Raijin repeats, swallowing. 

Rin turns to him. “Ah. She’s Minato-sensei’s girlfriend. I’m sure you’ll meet her eventually, Raijin-san.”

“Right,” Raijin manages, feeling like his heart has turned to stone and dropped right down to his diaphragm. “I’m sure I will." Clapping his hands together, he announces, "Anyways, I really should get going now.” It's that or potentially bursting into tears for seemingly no reason right here.

“What?” Obito pouts. “Are you sure you can’t stay any longer, Raijin-san?”

Raijin grins and reaches out to lightly flick the Uchiha’s nose. “Sorry, Obito-kun. I’ve got a seal I’d like to finish working on soon. Besides, I wouldn’t want to intrude on you and your friends any longer.” He heads for the door, offering a wave over his shoulder. “It was nice meeting you guys. See you later!”

“Raijin-san,” Kakashi calls out before the older shinobi can fully leave. When Raijin turns to the boy with raised brows, it is to find Kakashi staring at the floor, hands clenched into fists. “Thank you,” the boy says after a long moment. He looks up and meets Raijin’s eye. “For saving Obito. Thank you.”

Raijin blinks, remembering the few instances when his Kakashi had explained how much the loss of his teammate had affected him. The blond nods in understanding. “Of course, Kakashi-kun.”

He leaves before anything else can be said, only briefly catching when Rin asks Obito about Raijin knowing fuuinjutsu. It’d been weird enough to see a prepubescent Kakashi, but the mention of his mother had been enough of a cue for Raijin to leave before he hits his daily limit for emotional turmoil. 

It had been a lot easier when he hadn’t been in a village that looked a lot like his home but wasn’t it. Following the Kyuubi’s attack, most of the village had been rebuilt. In a time that predates that, Konoha’s streets are unfamiliar to Raijin, as are the people and shops.

Sure, it had been difficult to face Tsunade, Jiraiya and even Nara Shikaku, but they’d been run-ins. He’d known he didn’t have to stay and linger on what he doesn’t have anymore. Now, as he walks down the streets and catches sight of familiar faces that do not know him, it’s a lot like losing them all over again. 

None of his friends are here. Most of them are barely even a twinkle in their parents’ eyes. When they’re born, they’re not going to know him either, and there isn’t anything he can do to change that. 

Raijin takes a deep breath and goes back to his room. Alone.

It is a distracted Raijin who opens the door for Minato when they meet for dinner later that evening. 

Minato doesn’t say anything about it, simply smiling as he steps into the room. He tries not to worry but it’s hard not to overthink everything in Raijin’s company. Minato so badly wants for his brother to like him and for things to work out between them, he can’t help the way he second-guesses things. 

Kushina had warned him to not do anything stupid but it’s not like he’s this way on purpose. While he isn’t one to overthink so much in his professional life, Minato has always been a little hopeless when it comes to those he cares about. He has so few people in his close circle, and he has the tendency to hoard and guard them all zealously, wanting to make sure they’re happy and healthy, wanting to give them all that he can. 

But he’s trying to be mindful. He doesn’t want to get too excited or cross any lines too quickly and end up scaring Raijin off of pursuing a bond with him. Minato really wants his brother to like him. 

“Sorry, the place is a bit of a mess,” Raijin says, snapping Minato out of his reverie. He’s collecting several papers off the table as he shoots Minato a sheepish smile. He has upper cheek dimples when he smiles that cause his whisker marks to scrunch up as well. Minato thinks it’s terribly endearing. “I kind of lost track of time.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Minato assures, placing the bag of takeout he’d brought with him on the table as the space is cleared up. “What were you working on?”

Raijin brightens at the question, his chakra flaring out heedlessly for just a moment. It’s warm. “I heard you like sealing too!” he exclaims. 

And Minato can’t help perking up at that too. “Is that what you were doing?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Raijin nods, offering him a few of the papers to look at. “I’m working on adding offensive capabilities to barrier seals. Barriers are my favourite. I have a lot of chakra so control is always hard for me, but that doesn’t matter so much in barriers. I’m trying to get this one to discharge electricity when breached.”

Minato studies the seal with fascination that he always has reserved for fuuinjutsu. None of Raijin’s notes are encrypted but they’re still close to unreadable in that they’re all half-baked streams of thought that never get completed before Raijin seems to jump onto the next problem to tackle. His approach to sealing is a lot more instinctual and tailored to his personal strengths and needs than most seal masters around these days. The more Minato reads, the clearer it becomes to him that Raijin is a master of this craft as well. 

“This is one nasty barrier,” he notes, his tone of voice far too happy for the subject matter. He can’t help it though. He’s excited that he gets to share his own hobby with his new brother. “Do you have other modifications too?”

Grinning wide, Raijin says, “I have one that hurls fire. Wanna see?”

Minato grins back. “Absolutely.”

By the time Minato leaves, he’s practically walking on air with how happy he is. 

His evening with Raijin had gone better than he could have ever dreamed. They spent hours talking about sealing theory and telling stories of their own experiments and failures. Raijin had even told him a little about his old friends in exchange for Minato telling him about Team 7’s genin days. 

In the end, Minato walks away feeling a little like he has been handed a missing puzzle piece to complete his life. Like some part of him has just been waiting for his little brother to come home alla long. He wouldn’t mind if the rest of his days looked like this—training with his team, catching up with his sensei, laughing with his brother, and going home to Kushina. 

Minato can’t remember the last time he’d felt this fulfilled. Raijin is bright, funny, witty and unapologetically excitable. His energy is so infectious, Minato feels a little giddy even as he unlocks the door to his apartment and calls out a greeting to his girlfriend. 

“How’d it go?” Kushina asks, practically accosting him as soon as his sandals are off. “Did you have a good time? You did, didn’t you? I can already tell!”

He grins back at her, heart so full that he feels like bursting. “I did,” he confirms. “I had the best time.”

Beaming, Kushina pumps a fist in the air. “I told you so! I knew you’d get along and I told you so, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.” Minato pulls her close by the elbow, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her shoulder. There really is nothing better than this. “He’s a good kid, Kushina. Open and quick to laugh.” Pulling away so he can look at her, Minato smiles. “He reminds me a bit of you actually.”

Kushina raises her eyebrows at that, looking amused. “Of me?”

Minato nods. “He seals like an Uzumaki. And, apparently, his favourite food is ramen too.”

At this, she snorts. “Are we sure he’s your brother and not mine?”

Laughing, Minato pulls her close and squeezes his girlfriend. “I think you’re really going to like him.”

“Well, if this is how happy he makes you, I’m sure I will,” she comments. Kushina’s hands press against his back. “Hey, Minato? I’m really glad for you.”

“Thanks, Kushina.”

“Now, when can I meet this brother of yours? I might just steal him because he loves ramen, ya know. I’m sure he’d love to have a big sister!”

“Please don’t steal my brother, Kushina. I’ve only just found him.”

“Can you imagine, Minato?”

“Kushina, I’m being serious.”

“He’d call me ‘Kushina-nee-san’!”

“Kushina!”

Chapter Text

Of course Raijin is aware, on some theoretical level, that the Uchiha are still around. He did rescue and drag one across the elemental nations after all. Moreover, he has found himself completely incapable of ignoring the police force as they patrol the village purely because he’s just not used to seeing them around. 

He can vaguely remember the clan members being around in his earliest memories, with their high collars, severe expressions and the scent of disapproval wafting off of them in reaction to his first pranks. But he’d barely been seven by the time they’d been wiped out and the police force was never really reinstated after that so Raijin has done most of his growing up in their absence. He's more used to ANBU taking care of the things the police force is in charge of. To see them out and about now just rings as markedly strange in his head.

Kurama agrees, wrinkling his nose at the ‘clan of the cursed eyes’ as he’d called them. 'Why are there so many of them?' he demands. 

'Shouldn’t you remember them from your time with mum?' Raijin asks back. 

Huffing, the Kyuubi turns away pointedly. 'I didn’t care to see through her eyes on most days.'

So they’re both in roughly the same boat with regards to their disbelief at seeing the Uchiha clan still around and ‘thriving’. It might not be obvious to anyone who isn’t looking for it, but Raijin can see the way the Uchiha already hold themselves apart from the village. In turn, the villagers treat them with either a distant sort of respect or with outright hesitance. 

Raijin doesn’t really know what to do about Danzou just yet, but he has a feeling that even with that old coot out of the picture, the village’s problem with the Uchiha will only be delayed and not solved. To the civilians who tend to be wary of shinobi anyway, the only remaining founding clan is one to be kept at a distance on principle. And that doesn’t even cover how most shinobi tend to resent the Uchiha because despite their number and the advantage of the sharingan, most Uchiha shinobi tend to only serve in Konoha’s forces for a mandated five years before the police force ultimately absorbs them.

So that’s another thing he’ll have to figure out how to solve. He doubts he can talk or fight his way out of this one too. It’s probably going to require a lot of delicate political manoeuvring. Raijin sighs and shakes his head. It's going to take him a while to build up to that point. First, he just has to keep them all alive. 

It’s oddly nice to see them around. All these people who look and dress like Sasuke, the uchiwa fan on their clothes blinking in and out of sight as they meander through the village they still call home. 

And then Raijin realises that not only is Sasuke’s clan still alive, his immediate family is too—including one Uchiha Itachi, who is all of four-years-old right now. The blond takes one look at the child who doesn’t even reach his hip and nearly has a heart attack right on the spot. 

It’s all he can do to not drop the bag of fruits he has just purchased to bring back to his hotel room along with his newly acquired stash of cup ramen. Itachi either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about the grown man having a crisis next to him. The boy is very clearly on a mission as he seriously asks to buy a sweet melon just like he has been instructed to by his mother. 

Even at four-years-old, Itachi is unfailingly well-mannered. Paired with his big doe eyes and chubby cheeks, Raijin only barely holds back from cooing over the child while simultaneously having a breakdown because no one told him Itachi had been such a precious baby before his stint as an international terrorist what the fuck.

Itachi is already carrying a bag of other vegetables and fruits but he looks determined to lug the melon around too. While he’s this young, he doesn’t yet have control over his expressions and his face visibly screws up in concentration as he tries to work out the maths behind how he’s going to transport all his purchases back to the Uchiha compound which is at least a fifteen minutes walk away by adult standards. 

Really, it’s a no brainer to Raijin. He doesn’t even actually think before swooping in to grab the melon before it can roll right out of Itachi’s bag. 

'Do you ever think?' Kurama snarks. Raijin charitably ignores him. 

“You look like you could use a little help there,” he says to Itachi instead, offering an easy smile and keeping his body language open. “Can I help you take these back to your mum?”

Itachi blinks at him, hesitation passing over his face. “Thank you for the offer, shinobi-san,” he says solemnly, “but I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

Sage, who raised this kid? All the polite genes must have gone straight to Itachi because Raijin remembers Sasuke having been kind of a brat even before the trauma ruined his personality.

“Are you sure?” Raijin asks, crouching down so he’s at eye level with Itachi. “Because I’m new to the village and still trying to learn my way around. If I walked with you, I’d get to revise the village layout without having to worry about getting lost, so really, you’d be doing me a favour if you said yes.”

Itachi doesn’t look very convinced by Raijin’s logic but he also seems to realise that he’s going to have a hard time somehow making it home by himself with all his luggage in tow. With clear reluctance, he nods once, his hands twisting into the material of his canvas bag. 

The nervous habit immediately reminds Raijin of a younger Hinata, and he has to blink and comprehend that Uchiha Itachi ever shared some similarity with the painfully shy Hyuuga heiress at some point in time. Raijin wonders when exactly Itachi lost these more childish parts of himself. 

“Great!” he says instead of lingering on that particular thought for now. “Would you like to hold the melon or the bag?”

Gripping his bag tightly, stubborn determination settles over Itachi’s face as he says, “You can hold the melon, shinobi-san.”

“If you’re sure.” Raijin shrugs. He knows pushing any more won’t do him much good. “Ah, my name is Raijin, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Raijin-san,” Itachi says dutifully. “I am Uchiha Itachi.”

“How old are you, Itachi-kun?”

“Four-years-old,” Itachi informs. 

Raijin hums, shooting the boy a smile. “And you’re already running errands for your mum, huh? You must be very responsible.”

Itachi doesn’t say anything to that, only ducking his head. It’s not like Raijin hadn’t meant it as a compliment, but he also knows exactly what that sense of responsibility is going to do to Itachi before the boy even hits his teens. 

It isn’t unusual to see toddlers run errands for their parents. The errands aren’t usually that important anyways since the whole point is to instil a sense of independence and responsibility in the child at an early age. Two things that Itachi could probably use less of in his life, honestly. 

Raijin has been running all of his errands by himself for as long as he can remember, and while he definitely had a harder time than most kids what with the whole village hating him for no reason and all, it’s still a difficult thing for a kid to handle by themselves. Even at this age, what Itachi probably needs to learn instead of any more self-reliance is how to ask for help when he needs it.

“Do you go to school, Itachi-kun?” he asks conversationally, because what do genius shinobi do as toddlers anyway?

Itachi shakes his head, puffing his cheeks out and then immediately thinking better of it. “I train with Father and the other children of the clan,” he says. “I am still too young for the Academy.”

He’d join at six, if Raijin remembers correctly, and then graduate within months of that. 

“Do you like training?” 

“I am grateful I get to learn my clan’s techniques,” Itachi offers.

It’s not really an answer, and certainly not a response you’d expect from someone so young. Raijin can’t help the urge to gently reach out with his chakra and brush it against Itachi’s in hopes to transfer some comfort. When Itachi startles at the contact, he pretends not to notice. 

“That’s a smart response,” Raijin notes, his smile turning a bit wry. “Bet you’re a better student than I ever was. I only went to school to be as disruptive as possible.”

Itachi blinks, openly bewildered, and Raijin laughs. 

“I don’t learn like everyone else does,” he explains, “and my teachers didn’t understand or like that. So, I figured, if they keep trying to ignore me, I should just make it harder for them to do that and have some fun while I'm at it. Being a public menace made complete sense in my head.”

Lips twitching, Itachi bites the inside of his cheek. “You don’t learn like everyone else?” he asks, glancing up at the blond. 

Raijin wrinkles his nose. “The whole classroom thing really isn't for me,” he explains. “I can’t sit still for that long and I have a hard time with theory and textbooks and stuff. My master was the one to figure out that I need to actually get my hands on things and do them to get it. He simplified stuff until I understood, and eventually, I learned to do the same for myself.”

“Oh,” Itachi says, nodding thoughtfully. “I see. I thought everyone just learned the same.”

“A lot of people do.” Raijin shrugs. “I just thought I was stupid for the longest time. But everyone’s brains work differently and you just need to find what works best for you.”

Itachi hums. “That makes sense.”

“Right?” Grinning, Raijin nods. “You’d think more people would agree.”

“They don’t?”

Nose wrinkling, Raijin offers Itachi a tight-lipped smile. “You’ll find that a lot of people don’t like things that are different, Itachi-kun. They don’t like seeing things that don’t fit in with the rest. I think it scares them.”

Itachi’s face takes on a thoughtful note. “Because it means change?”

Raijin makes a vague noise of agreement. “And because they don’t understand.” While he doesn’t say anything, brief disgruntlement passes over Itachi’s face. Raijin chuckles and grins at the boy. “I don’t really get it either,” he admits cheerfully. “They should just mind their business if they don’t understand why something is different. Wasting all their energy just to hate something on principle is stupid and will probably only give them an ulcer or something.” He shudders. “Ulcers suck,” he adds gravely for Itachi’s benefit. He's lucky Kurama likes him enough to get rid of all that nasty stuff for him so he doesn't have to deal with it anymore, but he still remembers them from back when he was a kid, before Kurama gave actually gave a shit.

The boy blinks. “I see.”

It’s terribly endearing. Raijin can’t help getting carried away with his rambling when he has such a willing and attentive audience. He’s probably leaking happy chakra everywhere too, but he has a hard enough time controlling that even when he isn’t being faced with unfairly cute children who look at him wide, fixated eyes and nod along solemnly to everything that comes out of his mouth. 

Admittedly, Raijin was never really a fan of Itachi. Like, he gets that the guy was in a tough place, especially as an eleven-year-old. Sage knows just what sort of questionable decisions Raijin would have made if he’d had half Itachi’s baggage as a preteen. So, he gets it—the guy didn’t have it easy and he made his choice for Sasuke’s sake when he wasn’t thinking straight. That said, Raijin never quite managed to get over just how colossally Itachi fucked Sasuke over for years. Surely there were other ways that didn’t involve torturing seven-year-olds. Surely.

So, yeah, he has his hang ups about his best friend’s older brother and he probably won’t be getting over them any time soon either, but man, he can definitely get behind the idea of Itachi staying four-years-old forever. 

He kind of wants to wrap the kid up in a soft blanket, put him in his pocket and whisk them off into the sunset to live happily ever after. 

'Stealing that child is exactly what you need right now,' Kurama drawls sarcastically in response to his line of thought. 'Bet the old man in the hat will just love that.'

'I’m not actually going to kidnap him,' Raijin insists. 'I'm just…thinking about it.'

Kurama snorts. 'Must be breeding season.'

Raijin sends his friend an impression of suitable horror at such a crass remark. He doesn’t want kids! He just wants to keep this baby Itachi safe. There’s a difference. 

The fox makes his incredulity clear in the impression he sends Raijin. Raijin ignores it.

“Oh.” He blinks when they come to a stop, having arrived at their destination while he hadn’t quite been paying attention. “We’re already here, huh?” He turns to consider the guards at the gates of the compound who blink at the stranger accompanying their clan heir. The young one on the left looks easier to bully into helping Itachi. Raijin nods decisively. He has found his target. 

At his side, Itachi shifts and peers up at Raijin, his gaze hesitant and shy. “You can come in if you’d like,” he offers, voice soft. 

He says it like it might be for Raijin’s benefit but it’s clear to anyone observing that there’s something hopeful hiding just underneath. 

Raijin brightens. “You think so? Won’t your mum mind?”

Itachi shakes his head. “I ought to repay you for your kindness. Mother will approve.”

“Lead the way then, Itachi-kun.”

It’s a surreal thing to walk through the Uchiha compound for the very first time. In his time, it had been closed off as a veritable ghost town. They couldn’t do anything to the place without Sasuke—the de facto clan head’s approval, and he’d either been too young or too much of a criminal for them to start any official projects that might demolish or repurpose what had once housed a founding clan. 

Right now, however, it is very much functional and filled to the brim with noise and activity. It’s essentially a mini-village inside with stores and stalls dotting the first couple of blocks before giving way to more administrative and residential looking buildings. Raijin practically breaks his neck trying to take it all in. 

To be fair, people stare right back at him so he thinks they’re even. These people really must not be used to visitors. 

“How many Uchiha even are there?” he mutters, still not used to just how many of them are around. 

“Just over two hundred and fifty,” Itachi answers promptly. 

Raijin whistles. “Damn. You must be one of the largest clans.”

“Second largest,” Itachi confirms, something like pride in the curve of his smile. “Right after the Akimichi. The Inuzuka are pretty close though.”

In less than a decade, they’d go from over two hundred to one unless Raijin manages to do something about it. Which he will. He’s physically incapable of minding his own business and he’s too stubborn to not have things go his way, but damn, he’s definitely feeling the pressure now that he has actually seen the Uchiha with his own eyes. He’s going to have to make a list or something soon for all the tasks he has to accomplish before he can actually consider his work done and fuck off to take a much deserved vacation. 

The day Danzo dies, Raijin decides he’s going to go on a ramen tour around the Continent. Maybe he can become a really niche food critic. 

“Is this your house?” Raijin asks when they approach the biggest house in the compound. He blinks at the sloping roofs and almost oppressively traditional design. “It’s…impressive,” he remarks diplomatically. Not really his style but definitely aesthetically pleasing. 

Itachi bobs his head, leading the way to the front door with hurried steps now that they’re almost to his destination. 

As soon as they enter, a voice calls out from further inside the house. 

“Itachi, is that you?”

“I’m home,” Itachi calls back softly, carefully toeing his sandals off so as to not damage his cargo. 

Raijin is about to follow the boy’s example himself when he freezes, caught off guard by the woman who rounds the corner to the genkan, a smile on her face that is only barely marred by surprise to find a stranger with Itachi. 

Well, it’s clear just who the children take after. Uchiha Mikoto is obviously the one to give her sons their pale skin and delicate features.

To Raijin, it’s a lot like looking at a ghost. At twenty-years-old, Sasuke had looked a lot like his late mother. Raijin wonders if his friend had known—had remembered his mother’s face every time he looked in a mirror. 

“Mother, this is Raijin-san,” Itachi introduces, cutting through Raijin’s stupor. “He has been kind enough to assist me with the shopping.”

Mikoto’s eyebrows rise ever so slightly as she turns back to the blond. Her eyes are sharp and analytical even as she expertly dons the persona of a perfect wife and host, smiling politely at her guest. “How nice of you, Raijin-san. Thank you.”

Raijin waves the pleasantries away, forcing his face into a smile. He can’t exactly keep gaping at Sasuke’s mom. Or worse, cry at her because he suddenly really really misses the duckbutt-haired bastard. 

“Not at all, Uchiha-sama,” he assures, only just remembering his manners. “It wasn’t any trouble.” 

He isn’t really sure how he’s going to manage reintegrating the Uchiha into Konoha, but it’s almost definitely a good idea for them to have a good impression of him regardless of what he plans on doing. Whether he stong-arms them into it or chooses to gently prod them onto the right path, he’s sure he’ll have an easier time of it if he manages to get the clan to consider him a friend. 

Exercising his minimal training in etiquette (courtesy of Tsunade) is a small price to pay in the name of peace and all. 

Itachi turns to peer up at him. “Would you like to stay for some tea?”

Mikoto glances at her son but doesn’t reprimand him for extending the offer. If anything, there is a gleam of interest in her eyes when she turns to look expectantly at the man who has apparently managed to make enough of an impression on Itachi for her son to proactively extend an offer like this instead of letting her handle social pleasantries as he usually would. He is staking a claim here; this is his guest.

Raijin considers it. He knows it’s probably a good idea to get some dialogue started with the Uchiha clan head’s wife and maybe install himself as a friendly adult presence in Itachi’s life, but as he turns back to Mikoto, he also knows it might just turn out to be more than he can handle right now. 

It’s one thing to escort Itachi home with the resolve to better his life in some way, if only for Sasuke’s sake. It’s another to have Sasuke’s eyes stare up at him from Mikoto’s face in the house where she died. Raijin had been mentally prepared for one and he isn’t for the other. At least not yet. 

He needs to take time away and collect himself before he can come back with some sort of plan to put into action. He might be good at improvisation but he also knows by now to not test his luck in such a way. 

'Good call, kit,' Kuaram rumbles quietly in his mind. 'Just go home. You’ve done enough.'

Raijin swallows. He offers the two Uchiha a smile that he probably can’t hide is fake. “Maybe next time, Itachi-kun,” he says apologetically. “I already have plans for today.” He doesn’t, but he’s sure Obito will be happy to see him again nonetheless.

Itachi’s shoulders droop ever so slightly. “Oh. Okay.”

Mikoto drops a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Next time, then,” she says lightly. “We’ll have to repay your kindness after all, Raijin-san.”

Instinctively, Raijin knows she isn’t the kind of person he can let his guard down around. For whatever reason, Uchiha Mikoto is watching him and it probably isn’t a good thing for someone with as many secrets as Raijin. 

He tries not to twitch under her gaze. “Sure, Uchiha-sama. It’d be my pleasure.” Turning to Itachi, he presses the sweet melon into the boy’s hands and offers a more genuine grin. “I’ll see you around, Itachi-kun.” He winks just to see Itachi smile back cautiously. 

And then he hauls ass like the house is on fire behind him because today is absolutely not the day for him to have a breakdown about missing his friends from a future he is never going to get back. Eventually, Raijin thinks the emotions will catch up to him and he’ll have to sit and have his meltdown because he can’t outrun reality anymore. For now, though, he’s going to run away from his problems like any good little shinobi.

He’s still a student of Hatake Kakashi, after all. He learned emotional constipation from the best. 

“Namikaze Minato’s brother was here earlier today,” Mikoto brings up conversationally over dinner. “He helped Itachi with an errand.”

Fugaku lifts an eyebrow. “Is that so?” Of course he’d heard that Namikaze Minato has a long-lost brother who he was recently discovered by coincidence. Who hasn’t? It has been a favourite topic of gossip and conversation for how dramatic the whole thing sounds—like a play or fairytale of some sort. “What did you think of him?”

Mikoto hums around a mouthful of rice. “Itachi would have more to tell you than me.”

The couple turns to their only son who blinks back at them, caught a bit off guard. 

“Did you learn anything useful, Itachi?” Fugaku asks. 

Itachi swallows, thinking carefully back to everything Raijin had said. The man talked a lot, so it isn’t exactly easy. “He has a lot of chakra,” Itachi offers. He hasn’t learned sensing yet but Raijin had had so much chakra that Itachi hadn’t needed to actually look to know. 

Mikoto smiles in encouragement, nodding. “A ninjutsu type for sure,” she offers. “Probably wind-natured.”

“Just like Minato,” Fugaku notes. 

“He knows sealing,” Itachi pipes up. “He talked about it.”

The Uchiha patriarch looks interested at that. “Just like Minato indeed,” he murmurs in thought.

“He could be one to watch,” Mikoto comments idly. 

“Especially if the Hokage gives Namikaze a seat on the council,” Fugaku agrees, sipping his tea. “It wouldn’t have been possible with just Minato, but if there’s two of them…” He shakes his head, turning to smile at his son. “Well done on your observations, Itachi.”

Itachi smiles back at his father, ducking his head and paying attention to his dinner. He doesn’t mention any of the other things he learned today about Raijin, but he thinks it’s okay just this once. His father probably doesn’t want to know about Raijin’s frog wallet and his pink-haired kunoichi friend even if Itachi had liked hearing about those things. He doesn’t mention anything about Raijin liking ramen or about his trip to an onsen in Land of Tea. He also doesn’t say anything about the man’s chakra feeling like the sun when it had brushed against Itachi, warmer than anything he had ever felt before and full of the feeling of safety, comfort and playful affection.

Just this once, he thinks it’s okay to keep these things to himself.

Chapter Text

In the end, Raijin ends up running into Kushina by complete coincidence the evening he decides to grab ramen to treat himself for finally managing to complete the seal that would hide Kurama’s chakra within him. 

The universe has thrown some wild shit at him by this point: a nine-tailed chakra beast, whiskers on his face, the whole orphan thing, a rabbit goddess and her killer houseplant, time travel. Somehow, still, Raijin finds it within himself to be surprised. 

Honestly, he’s already taking half a step back to turn and beat a hasty retreat, but then Teuchi catches sight of him and raises a hand to call out with a friendly grin, “Welcome, Raijin-kun!”

He only barely manages to activate the seal inked along his sternum before Kushina is whirling around on her stool at mach speed, probably just about avoiding snapping her neck with how fast her head whips around towards Raijin. 

Her violet eyes gleam under the low lighting of Ichiraku’s stall, catching on Raijin's own that are wide with the distinct sort of panic that can only be felt by a time travelling orphan meeting their mother in the flesh for the very first time. 

'At least your seal works,' Kurama comments mildly. 

Which, true. Raijin takes the win because he needs one. The universe didn’t explode and there aren’t two Kyuubi traipsing all over Konoha either. That’s already better than Raijin had hoped for. 

“You’re Minato’s brother!” Kushina points, her smile blindingly bright. 

Raijin swallows. He wants to reach out and hug her. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him so he doesn’t have to do this. He also kind of wants to lay down and fall into a coma or something. 

None of that happens because the spirits hate him. Instead, he lifts his hand in an awkward wave and says, “Hi.”

“I’m Uzumaki Kushina,” she says, oblivious to the fact that Raijin is more than aware, “Minato’s girlfriend.”

“Raijin,” he introduces in return. For the first time, his new name tastes like ash in his mouth. He licks his lips and blurts out, “Your hair is cool.”

Kushina blinks, taken aback for a second before her smile is back on her face. She laughs and waves him over to take the stool beside her. “Minato is the only other person to have complimented it,” she tells him, winking. “You really must be related.”

“I guess so,” he says, mustering up a smile against the ache of familiarity. Raijin thinks he’d like her hair even if it was neon green just because it’d be hers. “I’ve only ever met two other people with hair as red as yours, Kushina-san,” he tells her. Turning to Teuchi, he asks for his usual miso ramen. 

“Really?”

He nods. “Yeah. They’re both Uzumaki too actually.”

Jaw dropping slightly, Kushina gapes at him. “You’ve met other Uzumaki?” she asks quietly. 

Raijin can sympathise with that. She probably hasn’t heard of another Uzumaki since Uzushio fell and the scattered survivors promptly went into hiding. It’s hard to feel like you’re the only one of your kind. 

“I have,” he confirms gently, tamping down on the part of him that wants to come right out and tell her that he’s an Uzumaki. He’s her son; more hers than anyone else’s, as he always has been and as he always will be, even if she doesn’t know it anymore. “Would you like to hear of them?”

Kushina nods immediately. “Yes, please.”

His ramen is placed in front of him and Raijin breathes in the comforting scent of warm miso. “First, there is Karin,” he says. “Her hair was a brighter red actually. I told her it looked like a tomato once and she straight up tried to rip my spine out through my nostrils.” Raijin shudders at the memory and Kushina snorts next to him. “She was a natural sensor—the first I ever met. Watching her work was crazy impressive. We wouldn’t have made it even half as long if we didn’t have her abilities protecting our camps. She was whip smart too, and twice as fierce.” 

“You were friends?” Kushina asks quietly. 

Raijin shrugs. “Not at first,” he admits. “But a war is a good enough reason to put aside your differences with just about anyone. If things had been different, we probably could have been friends.” He smiles wryly. “I think she would have liked pranking others with me, but I never got to ask her.”

It’s probably the closest Raijin has really come to talking about his loss. He told Jiraiya about his old team before, but those had been stories of their old missions rather than detailing anything about his friends in particular. It had been just enough for him to be able to exercise some control over his emotions. 

If he’d been telling Kushina about Sakura, Sasuke or Kakashi in this way, Raijin knows he wouldn’t have made it more than two sentences in before promptly crying rivers right into his ramen. 

“Nagato’s a quiet kind of guy. He doesn’t say much and he’s soft-spoken when he does, but you can tell he listens really carefully when you talk to him. I think he wants to make friends but he’s just kind of shy,” Raijin says, pausing only to slurp up a mouthful of noodles. “He cares a lot though. You should listen to him talk about peace; it’s kind of life changing. He believes so strongly that others can’t help but believe with him.”

“They both sound wonderful,” Kushina remarks, looking down at the leftover broth in her bowl, a sad sort of smile on her face. 

Raijin nods. “Maybe you can meet Nagato one day. I think he’d like that.”

There’s something a lot like longing on Kushina’s face. “Maybe.”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard of them or not,” Raijin comments, inclining his head. “I mean Akatsuki is getting kind of popular but Konoha is pretty far from Ame so I don’t know. Their message and ideals are really cool, and Nagato is at the head of it with two of his friends. It’s seriously awesome.”

Kushina blinks. “Akatsuki?”

“Yeah!” He nods. “Ame’s location tends to get it caught in the crossfire whenever the major elemental nations have any sort of conflict, so Akatsuki was initially formed to like protect Ame from that and maintain domestic peace. They’d been a bit at odds with Hanzo of the Salamander up until recently but they’re all working together now.”

Eyebrow quirking, Kushina elbows him. “I heard you might’ve had something to do with that, Kogane no Arashi-san,” she sings, grinning wide. 

Raijin flushes, warm pride bubbling in his chest. “It was kind of an accident,” he admits, rubbing at the back of his head sheepishly. “But it all worked out in the end!”

Fondness softening her features, Kushina leans her elbow on the counter and props her head up on her hand as she watches Raijin. “Did you really have to fight the Salamander?” she asks.

Raijin makes a face. “His toxin is such a bitch to get around,” he recalls, wrinkling his nose. “And, not to like brag or anything, but he also isn’t as good as the stories made him out to be.”

Kushina’s eyes go wide. “Seriously?”

The blond nods emphatically. “Seriously!” He leans closer to whisper conspiratorially, “I think he got lazy about training.” Kushina’s lips go round and she nods thoughtfully. “But I hear he’s getting back at it again so it’ll definitely be harder next time.”

Her eyebrows rising, Kushina looks at him sceptically. “You’re going to fight him again?”

Raijin blinks. “Uh, yeah.”

Before he can even see it coming, Kushina’s knuckles are digging into the crown of his head painfully. “Don’t go getting cocky, brat!’ she barks in his ear, having caught him in an impressive headlock. 

Raijin flails in her hold, squawking loudly. “He asked me to!” he protests, trying to to cringe away from her but having nowhere to go. “I’m not getting cocky,” he whines, twisting. “Hanzo said he wants to fight again to test my growth.”

Kushina huffs but lets him go. Her eyes are still narrowed. “That doesn’t mean you have to go and really fight him,” she scolds. “What will we do if you get hurt, huh? You have got to take better care of yourself now, kiddo, otherwise Minato is going to cry.”

Her concern fills Raijin with a bubbling fuzziness that makes him feel like a bottle of fizzy soda. Kushina is worried for him even though she doesn’t know him as her son this time around. That has to mean she likes Raijin for him, right? 

“I get that he’d worry, but he isn’t going to cry.” He rolls his eyes at the exaggeration, unwilling to show just how touched he is that his mum seems to really be fond of him already. 

Kushina snorts and shakes her head. “That’s what you think,” she mutters. “Minato is a right sissy, especially when it comes to the people he cares about.” She turns to arch an eyebrow at him. “He’s only going to be worse for his only brother, you know. Blondie really might cry if you get too banged up, so you have to look after yourself, okay?” Her eyes narrow. “I’ll beat you up if you don’t.”

“Alright, alright,” he appeases, throwing his hands up in surrender and huffing a laugh when Kushina nods once in satisfaction. 

Her gaze softens again. “Minato told me you’re a fuuinjutsu master,” she brings up. 

“Ah.” Raijin scratches at his cheek. “I don’t know about being a master or anything. I just like sealing.”

She eyes him, finger tapping against the counter. “He said you seal like an Uzumaki.”

The blond shrugs, not saying anything and choosing to stuff his mouth with noodles instead. 

Tilting her head curiously, Kushina asks, “Was your teacher an Uzumaki by any chance?”

Raijin considers lying to her and saying yes if only because it seems like a convenient conclusion but then thinks better of it. He already told Jiraiya otherwise anyway and he needs to stick to the truth as much as possible or he’ll forget and, with his luck, it’ll land him with a one-way trip to T&I.

So, honestly, he says, “Nope. Pretty sure he knew an Uzumaki though. I think she was his sensei’s wife. Maybe that’s where he learned.”

“You never asked?”

“Not really,” he admits. “I tried to when I was younger but even then I knew he didn’t like talking about himself.” Raijin shrugs and looks down at his bowl, prodding at the lone narutomaki floating in the leftover broth. “I think that’s just what loss does to people.”

Kushina’s mouth purses into a thin line. Her gaze is sharp and too knowing where it is fixed on the side of his head and Raijin thinks he’s going to burn under the weight of it. 

“It leaves them lonely?” she asks, her voice so soft that it hurts. 

Raijin shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe,” he says. “I’m just glad I learned the Uzushio style for sealing because I was crap at fuuinjutsu until I did.”

The abrupt subject change doesn’t go unnoticed, but Kushina allows it nonetheless. “I bet you find the other styles too rigid, right?” She nods in understanding. “I totally agree. They write paragraphs for things that only need a sentence or a word. It’s so…”

“Inconvenient,” Raijin supplies, shaking his head. 

Kushina snaps her fingers in agreement. “That’s the word,” she says appreciatively. Then she perks up, as if struck by an idea. “Hey, Raijin-kun, maybe you’re half Uzu-blooded,” she suggests and laughs. “Wouldn’t that be great? If you were half Uzu, you and I would be related too!”

Heart pounding in his ear, Raijin laughs along nervously, feeling like the ramen in his stomach has just curdled. “What makes you say that?” he asks, shifting nervously and hoping it goes unnoticed. His voice has gone up a whole octave and he quickly coughs. 

Clearly still amused by the thought, Kushina holds up a finger with each point as she recites, “You take more naturally to Uzushio’s sealing style. You’re an impulsive brat. You have crazy chakra stores and stamina. You give ramen the appreciation it deserves.” Kushina blinks like she’s just realising how many points that is. “You even have a traditionally Uzumaki name,” she adds slowly. Frowning, she peers at Raijin with narrowed eyes. “Hey, are you sure you aren’t an Uzumaki somehow?”

He is almost possessed by a brief fit of insanity, the chaos-loving gremlin within him wanting to say yes just to see what will happen. Raijin’s lone, overworked braincell is quick to wrestle the madness back into sensibility before that can happen. Quickly composing himself, he instead asks, “I have an Uzumaki name?”

Kushina, still eyeing him, nods briefly. “The main line tends to choose mythological or historical names to invoke divinity and strength,” she explains. “And it was common to name babies after winds and storms. Those were the greatest displays of power to those living on an island surrounded by whirlpools after all. Your name incidentally combines both those things.”

“The god of lightning and storms,” Raijin murmurs in understanding. He smiles wryly. “What a strange coincidence.”

Maybe his new name did manage to tie him to his original heritage in a way after all. 

“Minato had better watch out,” Kushina remarks, grinning quick and fox-like when Raijin turns to look at her questioningly. “I was only joking earlier. but now that we’ve met, I really might steal you as a little brother for myself.”

Raijin flushes at that, ducking his head to hide his pleased smile. Kushina sees anyway, her grin widening as she reaches out to ruffle his hair. 

“You’re a good kid, Raijin,” she tells him sincerely. “I’m glad Minato found you.”

He smiles at her, unable to help how he leans into her lingering touch, his heart feeling unbearably large and full. “Me too,” he says earnestly. 

“Hey, Raijin-kun, why don’t you call me Kushina-nee?” Kushina suggests suddenly, sitting up straight to look at him with sparkling eyes, her hands clasping together in delight. 

Raijin blinks at her, bemused. “What? Seriously?”

Nodding, Kushina grins. “Yeah! I mean, I’m your brother’s girlfriend so it kind of makes sense, right?” It really doesn’t. “I’ve always wanted to be a big sister! Come on, give it a shot—say Kushina-nee.”

Still bewildered but also kind of entertained, Raijin snorts and gives in. “Kushina-nee,” he says and he can’t help but grin around how her name fits in his mouth. 

Kushina cheers and throws an arm around his shoulders to drag him into a rough one-armed hug. Raijin goes easily, both of them cackling in tandem like children while Teuchi casts a look of amusement over their antics and shakes his head. 

Raijin thinks he could get used to this.

Minato brightens as his eyes spot a mop of blond hair so similar to his own, lifting an arm to wave before he can even stop to think twice. “Raijin!” he calls out over the noise of the bustling marketplace. “Over here!”

Next to him, Kushina looks up from her examination of the fruit stall’s produce to peer around Minato and grin at Raijin as the younger man approaches the couple with a bright smile of his own. 

His cheeks are dimpled by his smile again and Minato kind of wants to pinch them. 

“Minato-san,” Raijin greets once he’s close enough. His grin becomes cheekier as he leans around Minato slightly to look at Kushina. “Kushina-nee.”

‘Wait,’ Minato thinks. ‘What.’

“Hiya, Blondie #2,” Kushina returns, waggling her fingers. “You doing okay?”

“I’m great,” Raijin answers, chipper. “You see, this mysterious red-haired woman paid for my dinner last night, and I’m still thrilled about it.”

Kushina widens her eyes exaggeratedly. “Oh, my, you must be so awfully grateful.”

Nodding solemnly, Raijin places a hand over his heart and says seriously, “I most certainly am. I’ll be sure to thank her if I ever see her again.”

“You probably never will,” Kushina says gravely. “Us redheads tend to be super mysterious, you know.”

Raijin snorts. His grin is bright and mischievous, matching Kushina’s own. “Sure, Kushina-nee,” he drawls, promptly yelping when Kushina whacks his arm for the attitude. 

Distantly, and with a deep sense of betrayal, Minato repeats, “Kushina-nee.”

His younger brother blinks at him, his smile going a polite sort of puzzled as he tilts his head like he doesn’t understand why Minato is looking at the both of them like they just kicked his puppy. “Yeah?” he says, glancing uncertainly between the couple. “She asked me to, so,” he adds, shrugging like it’s no big deal. 

Like Kushina isn’t already taking the lead on being favourite sibling. 

Minato turns to give his girlfriend his best stink-eye. She grins smugly back at him, entirely unrepentant. 

“I forbid this,” he tells her. 

Kushina cackles. “I’d like to see you try, pretty boy.”

Raijin’s eyebrows are furrowed. “Wait, what’s up with you guys?”

Minato turns to pout at his younger brother. “You’re supposed to be on my side,” he points out, and it definitely isn’t a whine. 

The confusion on Raijin’s face is at war with the amusement he’s clearly finding in this situation. Minato doesn’t understand how he could find it a laughing matter. 

“I never said I wasn’t,” the teen points out, crossing his arms. 

“How could you let her win?” Minato demands, taking his brother by the shoulders. “I thought we were doing good.”

Under his hands, Raijin’s shoulders shake with laughter. “Quit being dramatic,” he says, rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling wide enough that his eyes are squinted and Minato can’t help the way his own lips curve upwards in response. “She asked first. That’s not my fault.”

Minato narrows his eyes. “So all I had to do is ask?”

Raijin shakes his head. “It’s not a big deal,” he says. “I would’ve done it earlier if I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

“Mind?” Minato repeats, borderline hysterical. “Kushina, he thinks I’d mind,” he says because he needs someone else to see how ridiculous the notion is. Like Minato wouldn’t pay for all of Raijin’s ramen forever if it meant he’d get to be openly acknowledged as his older brother. 

Kushina rolls her eyes at him and finishes purchasing her tangerines. 

“You could mind,” Raijin argues, puffing his cheeks out. “It’s legit! The whole brother thing is sudden, and it’d make sense for you to need more time and for us to get closer before I call you big brother or whatever.”

It is legit, but Minato had been past that about fifteen minutes into his first conversation with Raijin. “I don’t mind,” he tells the younger man seriously. “If you’re okay with it, I’d love for you to call me your big brother.”

For the first time in this conversation, something like nervousness crosses over Raijin’s face. “Really?” he asks, peering up at Minato. 

“Really.”

Raijin’s shoulders relax ever so slightly and Minato gives them a squeeze, returning the tentative smile his brother gifts him. 

“Okay,” Raijin says. “Sure. Nii-chan, then.”

It’s a lot like getting a present for simply exisitng. Minato can’t help the way he brightens instantly at the address, sweet golden warmth flowing through his veins. He still can’t believe he has been lucky enough to get a family of his own after all these years alone. He’s so fortunate to have a brother, especially one like Raijin. 

“Whatever,” Kushina huffs behind him. “I’m still winning.”

Minato turns to gape at her. “How are you winning? We’re even now!’

“He called me Kushina-nee first!”

“Uh,” Raijin lifts a hand, eyebrows raised, “you guys know this is pointless, right? There’s nothing to win here.”

The couple blinks blankly at him. As one, they turn to each other. 

“You hear that?” Kushina says, scoffing. 

Minato shakes his head. “He really thinks there’s nothing to win.”

“How naïve.”

“It’s okay, Raijin,” Minato tells his brother. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Right,” Kushina nods, “this is between me and the sissy.”

Looking between the two of them with clear disbelief, Raijin doesn’t hide that he clearly thinks they’re both short of a few screws. “Sure,” he says. 

At least now he knows that it’s not his fault he turned out the way he has. Insanity obviously runs in the family.

Chapter Text

A little over two weeks into his stay in Konoha, Obito is finally declared 100% human with a side of mokuton, and allowed to leave the hospital. Quite promptly after, Raijin receives a summon to the Hokage’s office so they may finally disclose the events of Obito’s rescue. 

Raijin takes a deep breath outside the office doors. He’s a student of Hatake Kakashi who had been a master at the art of bullshit. He learned from the man himself and even experienced Kakashi’s expertise first hand. He can totally lie to the government. It probably doesn’t even count as anarchy since he isn’t actually a Konoha citizen yet. He’s got this!

Nodding to himself, Raijin pushes the doors open and steps through. He’s the last one to arrive it seems and he nods in greeting at Obito, Jiraiya and Minato before dipping into a shallow bow to the Hokage. 

“Let’s not delay this any further,” Hiruzen begins, dismissing the ANBU in the room with a wave of his hand and activating the soundproofing seal under his desk. “I’m rather curious about what it is the three of you have insisted on being so tightlipped about.”

Raijin exchanges glances with Jiraiya in silent commiseration because they both know exactly how insane it’s going to sound when they reveal that they pretty much beheaded Uchiha Madara even though the dude was supposed to have died like decades ago. 

“Obito,” Jiraiya prompts, “would you like to start?”

Chronological order. Raijin nods. That makes sense. 

Obito doesn’t seem to think so from the wide-eyed look he gives the Sannin, but it’s not like he has much of a choice. He turns to Minato for reassurance, receiving an encouraging nod and smile. Raijin shoots the kid a thumb-up. With that, Obito takes a deep breath and starts. 

“I thought I died in that cave,” the boy begins. In his corner of the room, Minato flinches. “Half of me was totally crushed under those rocks, I’d just given away one of my eyes to Kakashi, and I was losing consciousness fast. I didn’t think I was gonna wake up again, but then I did.” He pauses, pressing his lips together and furrowing his brows. At his sides, his hands tremble and he curls them into fists. “I was in this tunnel when I woke up, bandaged and on a bed. And I wasn’t alone.”

Say what you will about the kid, but Obito sure has a knack for storytelling. Raijin knows this story more fully than anyone else in the room and even he’s invested. Jiraiya looks like he’s considering taking on a literary student. Personally though, Raijin doesn’t think Minato is going to just let his sensei whisk away his student to teach him how to write porn. 

“There was an old guy in there with me.” Obito hesitates before finally coming to the main point of the story, “He told me he was Uchiha Madara.”

The silence that follows is uncomfortably deafening. Raijin tries not to fidget if only because he’s an adult now and trying to seem like he has his shit kind of together.

Gulping, Obito continues, “He said he’d never died in his final battle against Senju Hashirama. That he’d bit off a bit of the Shodaime’s flesh or something and used the cells to heal himself. He was living off of an external chakra source because he was super old and didn’t have enough to even sustain himself anymore. He said he’d implanted Senju Hashirama's cells into me too to save me.” The boy shakes his head. “He was pretty much insane,” he states bluntly. “He claimed he wanted to create a world of only peace and love, but apparently he was trying to cast the world into an endless dream after chucking out all the bad stuff or something.”

Hiruzen barely recovers from gaping blankly at Obito in time to save his pipe from falling right out of his mouth. 

“We have proof,” Raijin offers, pulling up his sleeve to unseal the scroll containing Madara’s corpse in stasis from the storage seal inked along his forearm. He places the scroll on the floor before pushing a bit of chakra into it to unseal Uchiha Madara’s head right there in the Hokage’s office. 

“By the Sage,” Hiruzen whispers, staring wide-eyed, his poker face having completely failed him in the face of the Ghost of the Uchiha. 

Raijin seals the head away again, scooping the scroll up to deposit it on the Hokage’s table.

“Cast the world into a dream,” Minato pipes up, sounding contemplative. “What did you mean by that?”

Obito shrugs. “I don’t really know the specifics. He had these puppet things taking care of me—said they were manifestation of his will or something but I’d kind of stopped listening to all the crazy by then; sorry. Anyway, the puppet guys were the ones who told me that the plan was to put the world into a dream. I think it was supposed to be a mass genjutsu of some sort, but I was still passed out most of the time so they never got into the specifics. Next thing I knew, I was waking up and Raijin-san and Jiraiya-sama were there to save me.”

“If we’re going by order, should I go next?” Raijin asks, raising his hand and tilting his head. When he receives a nod from Hiruzen, he shrugs and starts. “I’ve been using my summons as part of my information network for a while,” he says. “It’s just convenient since they can go anywhere and find almost anything out if they feel like it. Then about a month ago, one of my foxes got back to me about sensing an artificial being with chakra in the abandoned mines of Mountains’ Graveyard. She said that the artificial human wasn’t alone and that there was apparently an old guy and a boy with it, whom she suspected as Uchiha shinobi from the feel of their chakra.”

“Your summons can sense chakra to such an extent?” Hiruzen interrupts, brows furrowed. 

Raijin doesn’t actually know if they can or not. But he bets that the Sandaime doesn’t either. Looking the Hokage in the eye, completely straight-faced, Raijin says, “Some of them can,” as if he has any idea what he is talking about. If Hiruzen asks, he’s going to summon his foxes here and they’re just going to lie with him because, not only are they enablers of no parallel, they actively seek opportunities to unleash mayhem into the world. 

Looking thoughtful, Hiruzen nods. “I see,” he says and gestures for Raijin to continue. 

At that, Raijin’s expression becomes a bit fixed. If the old man believes him, he is going to laugh himself right into an early grave. Either way, apparently he isn’t getting called out on his bullshit today.

“Right, so, anyway. I had Sayuri-san do a bit of eavesdropping before I decided to do anything. She reported back to me that the old guy was calling himself Uchiha Madara and the kid wasn’t allowed to leave, so much so that they’d blocked the tunnels off. Now, I didn’t know if that was legit or not but I wasn’t about to find out by myself. The only person I could really think to take with me was Jiraiya-san here. I knew he’d been looking for me for a while so he would probably be nearby, he’s strong enough to accompany a stranger on a trip like that on a whim, and he’s from Konoha, so it’d be easier to deal with any Uchiha with him around to handle the aftermath. Luckily, he agreed and that’s that.”

Jiraiya inclines his head, taking his cue. “My toads let me know Mena—I mean, Raijin had clearly been looking for me. I met up with him, he told me the situation, and I figured I may as well see it through. We followed his fox summon through the mine and blew up the blockade to where they’d been keeping Obito. Inside were an aged Uchiha Madara and three of those artificial humanoids. I took two of them while Raijin dealt with the other and Madara. And then we secured Obito and brought him here.” 

“Well,” Hiruzen says rather conclusively. “That certainly was quite the tale.”

‘You’re telling me,’ Raijin thinks. 

Steepling his fingers, the Hokage regards them all gravely. “We will have to verify the remains you have provided us with of course, but even if that isn’t Madara, he is still a rogue nin that you have rescued Obito from. And if it is confirmed that this is indeed Uchiha Madara, then you will truly have done us a service, Raijin-kun, by killing Konoha’s most prolific traitor. Even going so far as to enlist Jiraiya-kun’s help, truly, I cannot think of anything you could have done better.”

Standing behind Hiruzen, Minato beams at his brother, looking entirely too proud. Raijin blinks and smiles back. Minato kind of reminds him of a sunflower when he looks like that.

There is a smile on Hiruzen’s face too as he regards Raijin. “In light of these events, I do believe I have more than enough basis to offer you a place among our ranks, Raijin-kun.” He nods at Jiraiya and Minato in turn, adding, “Of course, you have already been vouched for by two of our best and brightest. Moreover, in all your time here and even before, you have consistently shown that you are no enemy of Konoha’s.”

Admittedly, it’s politics, and Raijin knows it. He’s strong, he killed Konoha’s most legendary antagonist, he rescued a member of a founding clan who now has mokuton, he’s related to a future Hokage candidate, and he is owed a life debt by Nara Shikaku too for that one time. Hiruzen would be an idiot to let him walk back out of this village where he could be snatched up by any other village looking to shape a Yellow Flash of their own. 

Iwagakure will probably be foaming at the mouth when they hear that Namikaze Minato’s brother had just been wandering around in the wild under their noses all this time. 

So, yeah, he knows what this is really about. That doesn’t stop the way his eyes burn with the threat of tears anyways because Raijin doesn’t think he will ever truly outgrow that part of him that has always just craved to feel wanted by his village. He’s being offered a place here, beside his father, because of things he has achieved of his own merit to prove that he’s worthy of being looked upon as a capable shinobi. 

Sage, he’s such a tool. Sasuke would probably bust a lung laughing at him from the afterlife. Not that Mr. International-criminal-at-twelve really has a leg to stand on. He was just as extreme in his emotional bias as Raijin, just in the totally opposite direction. He and Sasuke have always been funny that way. 

Neither was wrong given what they’d been through, and the only to really understand it was the other, but that similarity is what doomed them to never be able to reconcile those differences just for how stark they were. 

Gentling his tone into his Grandfather Voice (trademark pending), Hiruzen asks, “Will you accept, Raijin-kun?”

Everyone in the room already knows what Raijin’s answer is going to be, and yet, all of them hold their breaths. 

Raijin doesn’t make them wait. His face splits into a grin that kind of hurts his face in a good way and he nods hard enough to rattle his brain in his skull. “It would be my honour, sir.” He looks to Minato as he says this, and Minato smiles right back, looking like a massive weight has been lifted off his shoulders with this official declaration. 

Hiruzen chuckles. “Well, we’ve already been working on your immigration. I think the only thing really left to sort out is what rank you will be.”

If Raijin isn’t at least a jounin, he might actually fuck right off to Uzushio. He’ll just take Minato and Kushina with him. Obito can come too, which means the rest of Team 7 will probably follow. And maybe Itachi?

Before he can really get into pondering over the matter, Minato interrupts his train of thought to say, “We’ll perform an evaluation at the earliest possible date. Depending on your performance, you’ll then either receive the equivalent of a field promotion to chuunin or take an official jounin exam.”

That sounds reasonable. Raijin nods. He’s going to have to figure out which of his techniques will never see the light of day again unless he’s in a legit life or death situation, and he has to do this before the exam. He can’t risk stumbling and giving people any reason to doubt that he is anything other than what he says he is. 

“But first,” Hiruzen says, eyes twinkling as he pulls something out of one of his drawers and places it on his desk. “For you, Raijin-kun.”

Raijin stares at the forehead protector, the stylized leaf winking back at him in the light of the Hokage’s office. Viscerally, he misses his own hitai-ate. Iruka’s hitai-ate. Swallowing, he reaches out to carefully pick the headband up and study it. His fingers close around the cool metal. His hands do not shake. 

Lifting his gaze solemnly, he dips into a bow from the waist. “Thank you, Hokage-sama.” 

It’s not much as far as speeches go, especially for Raijin who is actually rather proud of his public speaking skills, but the words are sincere and they serve the purpose all the same. 

Hiruzen nods, sporting a pleased smile. “I hope you will continue to serve Konoha well, Raijin-kun. The Will of Fire burns bright in you. I look forward to seeing you grow as a member of the Leaf.”

Hitai-ate secured to his forehead, Raijin grins. It feels like being handed a missing piece to add to the puzzle of incompleteness within himself.

“Looking good, brat!” Jiraiya booms, clapping him sharply on the back and laughing when it visibly knocks the breath out of Raijin. 

“Congratulations, Raijin-san,” Obito chimes in with a grin. His smile only widens when Raijin ruffles his hair in response. 

Quietly, Minato offers, “It suits you, Raijin.”

“Thanks, nii-chan,” Raijin replies, holding up a peace sign to really sell it. Still new to the address, Minato is one step too late to hide just how pleased he is to hear it. Raijin thinks it’s terribly amusing. 

“Oh,” Jiraiya straightens as if remembering something. He turns to Raijin with serious eyes. “You should be on the lookout now that you’re officially a part of the village. Once the news about Madara gets out, the Uchiha are almost certain to extend a formal invitation of thanks to you.”

Minato nods along. “You saved one of their own and took out the biggest traitor to the clan. It is practically guaranteed.”

Raijin tries not to grimace at that. Whether they thank him through a letter or with personal favour is probably going to depend on how well he does on his evaluation. After all, the Uchiha are unlikely to bother with a chuunin. Considering that Raijin is most certainly at jounin level and well above it, he should already be anticipating the formal invitation to dinner or something. 

Knowing them, they will use it as an opportunity to test him. 

It won’t just be the Uchiha either. Given the time period, Minato is just taking the plunge into the deep waters of Konoha’s politics. Most of his political sway is earned in this war from what Raijin remembers. For his efforts, Minato is posed as something of an icon to not just the shinobi forces but also the civilians, and Hiruzen capitalises on it by awarding Minato with influence and backing, eventually naming him successor over Orochimaru and Uchiha Fugaku. 

And now, Minato isn’t the only one who will be associated with the Namikaze name. There will be eyes on Raijin because he is probably easier to reach than Minato. They will seek to exploit him to target his brother, or to cosy up to the future Hokage through him. It certainly doesn’t help that he’s new to the village and a blank slate; a piece free for shaping.

Once he proves how strong he is in his own right and shows what he can contribute to Konoha for himself, they’re likely to only get worse since he could cultivate influence of his own. Even if he chooses not to carve out a political foothold himself using militaristic achievements as a springboard, he could earn sway over the masses (civilian and shinobi alike) like his brother did.  

The game of politics is akin to swimming in shark-infested waters and Raijin is fresh meat. 

He grins and it is a baring of teeth. Raijin didn’t suffer through Tsunade and Kakashi’s lectures to let people make a fool of him now. Whether they know it or not, he’d been the equivalent of a Hokage successor in his own right, and Raijin has always taken the legacies entrusted to him seriously. 

When the time comes, he will be prepared.

Chapter Text

Raijin has to take a moment to really appreciate the principle of sparring even as he is midway through one against a Konoha jounin he doesn’t recognise. 

They’re just fighting, throwing jutsu at each other, and no one’s dying or anything! No plant zombies or mythical doujutsu or crazy rabbit goddesses in sight. It’s revolutionary stuff in his humble opinion. Raijin can’t even remember the last time he fought someone without them intending to kill him. He must have been seventeen or something and that was like forever and a half ago. 

Fighting at such low stakes now is refreshing. He can’t help the way his grin widens even as he flips out of the range of an array of senbon thrown at him by his opponent. It could have been kind of boring because Raijin can tell he’s the objectively stronger one in this fight by quite a margin but he’s definitely having to get creative with his arsenal so severely limited. 

Most of his favoured techniques are out of the question for being too destructive or inexplicable or both. If he slips up and gives into his ninjutsu reflexes, he’s going to out himself as a time travelling jinchuuriki and get arrested faster than he can say “Oops.”

Raijin is one rasengan away from being called a spy and then getting executed and he knows it. 

Well, whatever. Just because he doesn’t usually use other techniques all that much doesn’t mean he is incapable. He can boast being able to use water and earth jutsu with relative ease in addition to his natural wind affinity, and if he has the time to exercise enough chakra control for it, he can even manage fire. Not to mention he has been working on incorporating sealing into his fighting style although, admittedly, that is a bit slow-going. And, of course, he has always been naturally talented at straight up throwing hands. 

The only questionable jutsu he doesn’t give up is kage bunshin, although in all honesty that’s because he ended up reflexively summoning a couple of clones almost as soon as the test began, only remembering a second later that the multiple shadow clone jutsu is actually a forbidden one that he definitely isn’t supposed to know how to perform. 

There’s no way he’d be able to go without his precious clone jutsu though. It’d be like losing an arm. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself. 

Oh, well. It’s about time he screwed something up anyway. It had to leave his system at some point. He’ll just figure it out later. 

For now, Raijin thinks it’s about time to put an end to this spar. His opponent today had been decent and served as a good starting point for him to figure out his newly limited skillset, but Raijin is far too used to an entirely different scale of power when compared to these regular shinobi, even during wartime. Ultimately, this is what makes the biggest difference and, soon enough, he has pinned the jounin to the ground with a kunai to the neck and handily won his spar within a good four minutes. 

“Good fight,” he breathes out, grinning as he stands up and offers a hand to the jounin. 

The jounin looks disgruntled but accepts Raijin’s help in pulling him to his feet. “Don’t lie. You didn’t even break a sweat,” he points out, dusting himself off with a shake of his head. “I guess I’ll be seeing you at your jounin exam.”

Which isn’t unexpected but Raijin is still happy to leave his official genin status behind, thank you very much. He may be a Kage level shinobi but he will also forever be salty about never being able to pass the chuunin exams thanks to all the other stuff that kept getting in the way.

He turns to the pair approaching him now that the fight is over, grinning brightly. “Heard that?”

Minato smiles. “Sure did,” he confirms, reaching out to scrub his hand through Raijin’s unruly hair. “Well done, little brother.”

Raijin makes a cursory effort to get out from under Minato’s hand but it’s more for show than anything. It’s not like his hair is ever going to be tame, and he can’t really pretend that every freely given token of affection doesn’t make him feel like he is made of liquid gold rather than flesh and bone. It has been a while since he has had space for these minor touches, and the lonely abandoned kid in him will never be able to stop basking in the warmth of physical affection. He’s lucky that Minato is so free with the way he reaches for him every so often, hands always patting on shoulders or ruffling through his hair.

Jiraiya hums, crossing his arms as he regards Raijin with contemplative eyes. “That wasn’t even much of a challenge for you, was it?” he asks bluntly, sighing when the younger blond only carelessly shrugs at him. “I was hoping to see more of your skills but I guess it will have to wait till the exam itself.”

Tilting his head, Raijin asks, “If I beat a jounin, doesn’t that mean that I’m at that level myself?”

“Yes, especially since this particular fight was so clear-cut,” Minato nods, “but the exams are also to determine if a shinobi’s skills are better suited towards a specialisation or not. If you make tokubetsu jounin, you will receive more specific missions geared towards your niche. It doesn’t always have to do with skill; sometimes it’s also about administrative convenience.”

“If you decided to pursue the sealing angle more specifically, you’d probably get tokujo even though you could beat a full-fledged jounin,” Jiraiya adds. “It helps Mission Assignment make better informed and more optimal decisions regarding who is best for what job."

Mouth rounding in understanding, Raijin nods. “That makes sense,” he concedes. It’s still likelier he’ll make jounin though, knowing the unending need for ninjutsu powerhouses during a war. Plus his skill set is more than well-rounded enough.

“By the way,” Jiraiya’s eyes narrow, “was that the multiple shadow clone jutsu you used? If I remember right, you did a similar thing in the abandoned mine too.”

‘Here we go,’ Raijin thinks. “Yup,” he says, nodding like they might miss his affirmative response otherwise. Own up to it loud and proud and throw them off their rhythm. He’s doing a great job!

Minato’s head whips towards. “Wait, seriously?” he asks, voice high with incredulity. “I assumed it was some other clone technique. Raijin, that’s a kinjutsu! Shinobi are forbidden to use it for their own health!"

Raijin whistles like he hasn’t made this jutsu his bitch and is in fact hearing of this information for the first time. “Wow,” he intones, “really? That’s so interesting.”

“Yes,” Minato informs emphatically. “Hardly anyone can perform it safely and I don’t think I've ever seen it used with that many clones before. You had at least five!”

“It consumes too much chakra for most shinobi to use it ordinarily,” Jiraiya tells him, his face in an appraising sort of frown. “Kage bunshin itself is only taught at jounin level,” he adds, “which begs the question of how you know it, brat.”

For once in his life, Raijin hopes that everyone was telling the truth when they told him he has the face of an idiot who never has a clue about anything ever. “Uh, my master taught me,” he says slowly, lying, like a liar who lies. “I can’t really do regular clones because I have too much chakra.” And that, at least, is true. “No idea where he might’ve picked it up from though.”

Jiraiya sighs at that. “The more I hear of this master of yours, the more I want to meet him.”

Snorting, Raijin takes a moment to wonder how and when exactly his life became a dark comedy. “I bet sensei would find that funny,” he comments, shaking his head. “Anyway, is it a problem if I use this ‘kinjutsu’? Because I legitimately cannot do clones otherwise and it’s really integrated into my combat style.”

Minato hesitates. “Well,” he starts, glancing at Jiraiya uncertainly, “if it doesn’t harm you, I guess it should be okay.” 

“It doesn’t harm me,” Raijin promises. He has way too much chakra for that. 

Shoulders relaxing with his reassurance, Minato nods. “If you say so,” he concedes. Curiosity takes over his expression now that his worry has been eased and he leans forward slightly as he asks, “Do you know how many of those you can maintain?”

“No,” Raijin admits, scratching at the back of his head. “A lot. I haven’t made enough to hit my limit yet.”

Minato stares at him, looking equal parts awed and horrified. “What’s your maximum?”

Raijin shifts, glancing at his brother and cringing. “I…don’t know.”

It could be ten or twenty for all Minato knows, and hopefully he is thinking along those numbers because he’s a reasonable guy. It’s not his fault Raijin makes it a point to regularly look reason in the eye and laugh at it. At this point, some part of him is definitely doing it mostly out of spite. 

“I see,” Minato returns, blinking slowly. 

Jiraiya looks between the two of them and snorts, turning away and muttering something about crazy blond people and getting lunch as he walks away. 

Watching him go, Raijin hums. “He’s onto something with that actually,” he comments. Turning to Minato with a raised brow, he asks, “You wanna grab lunch with me?”

“Yes,” Minato says immediately. Then he pauses and frowns, looking suddenly so deeply disappointed that Raijin is almost worried for a split second. “I can’t though,” he says regretfully. “I have to attend a meeting about my next posting soon.”

He looks so genuinely upset, Raijin can’t help but be endeared. Of course, he has never exactly had the chance to properly get to know Minato for himself, but from all the stories he’s heard, even including some of the sillier ones from Jiraiya, he has always thought of Minato as someone to look up to. As the Yellow Flash or the Yondaime Hokage; a sensei, a genius, a commander, a leader. A myth.

That’s not to say Minato isn’t one hell of a role model or that Raijin respects him any less. It’s just that now that he has actually gotten the chance to know him as more than just another soldier on a battlefield, Raijin doesn’t find himself looking up to but, rather, at Minato. He looks at Namikaze Minato and he can finally see him as a person. Sure, the guy is kind of terrifying with how good he is at being a shinobi, but he’s also just twenty-one. He’s young and kind of silly, he flusters easily, he gets insecure all the time about being a good teacher (and a good brother, Raijin suspects), he tends to walk around with ink stains on his hands and he likes to space out sometimes. 

When he thinks Raijin isn’t paying attention, Minato looks at him with eyes that are still uncertain on what to make of the young man who has turned up out of the blue to be his brother, but they are also always full of a painfully cautious hope. Like he’s afraid of getting his heart broken but is willing to risk trusting Raijin with it anyways. When he knows Raijin is looking at him, Minato is always smiling like he’s trying to make sure Raijin knows just how happy he is to have him here. 

Raijin doesn’t really know how to have a dad but he’s beginning to learn what it’s like to have a brother, and that is what he sees when he looks at the Minato of this time. 

Seeing him get sad about missing out on lunch with Raijin makes him feel like he’s a cloud about to drift away through a summer sky. He can’t help how his lips twitch up and into a smile. 

“Don’t look so depressed about it,” he says, voice teasing. “People will start saying I’m a bad influence and a distraction trying to corrupt the great Yellow Flash.”

“You probably are.” Minato’s voice is too full of a laughing fondness for Raijin to even pretend to be offended. 

He rolls his eyes despite his widening grin anyway. “You live with Kushina-nee,” he points out, crossing his arms. “I couldn’t possibly make you any worse than you already are.”

Smirking, Minato tells him with the smug surety of a man who has meticulously left no evidence or witnesses, “Nothing you can do to prove it.”

Which just means that now Raijin has to do literally whatever it takes to find evidence of something Minato has pulled and buried under his golden boy image or he’ll never know peace again. That’s fine. He didn’t get in all that practice with information networks for no reason, and there can be no greater cause than finding blackmail on one's older brother. 

He’s going to have to stock up on bribes for his foxes but that’s a small price to pay. 

Raijin narrows his eyes up at his brother, suddenly very resentful of the fact that Minato has a solid four centimetres of height over him. ‘I’m still growing,’ he thinks vindictively. ‘I’m going to get taller!’

Inside his seal, Kurama stirs as he only does when there’s an opportunity to make Raijin’s life more difficult than it needs to be. He snorts imperiously. ‘With how much ramen you consume, you’re going to stay like this forever.’

‘Kurama, take that back right now!’

Kurama does not in fact take it back. He only cackles his maniacal laugh, coughs a bit because of it, and then settles back down to sleep.

Because Raijin needs a win to feel better, he sniffs at his brother. “I’m going to get something totally delicious while you suffer to tears in your boring meeting.”

Infuriatingly, Minato only looks amused. “Okay, Raijin,” he says agreeably. 

“I’m being serious,” Raijin insists, but even the pretence of a fight is lost to him the moment Minato’s fingers find their way back into his hair for a ruffle. It’s careful like it always is with Minato because nothing about him is ever anything other than a conscious amount of thought and effort, but somehow that just makes Raijin feel—precious. In a weird way. Cared for. Cherished. 

He thinks he might have just lost his remaining singular brain cell to this mushiness and now he doesn’t even have the cognitive function left to be upset about it.

“Okay, Raijin,” Minato says again, indulgent and amused. “Enjoy your lunch.”

“I will,” Raijin tries to say insistently, viciously. Instead, it comes out too earnest, like a promise, and Minato smiles at him, pleased. 

Obito doesn’t really like having mokuton all that much. 

Sure, the Hokage had given him that whole spiel about how having the Shodaime’s ability is an honour and he is sure that Obito will do a good job of living up to the legacy of Senju Hashirama and bring honour to Konoha. And Obito appreciates the effort! It was a good speech; a great one, even. 

Except that Obito has waited practically his entire life to manifest his sharingan and prove that he’s deserving of being an Uchiha when apparently nothing else about him seems to fit his clan's standards, and then right when that happened, Madara had to go and screw it up for him by giving him mokuton of all things. 

As in the greatest ability of their rival clan. Man, Obito can never just catch a fucking break. 

The Uchiha can acknowledge that mokuton is one hell of a bloodline limit and the strength it bestows upon a user that can wield it well, but that doesn’t mean they want their clansmen to start manifesting it. It’s the principle of the thing—they may have made peace with the Senju like sixty years ago, but they still don’t necessarily want to start welcoming the ability that once wiped out so many of their numbers amongst themselves now. 

Obito had just wanted to be acknowledged by his clan. He had wanted them to be unable to ignore him because he’d proven himself as a strong, capable shinobi—as an Uchiha even if he didn’t ‘act’ like them or whatever. 

Well, they’re certainly acknowledging him now. Except that no one seems to know what to make of him, so they regard him with an open sort of wariness that sets his teeth on edge. 

Being stuck in his dumb hospital room had totally sucked, but he doesn’t think that having sharingan red eyes track him around his own clan compound like he’s an exploding tag waiting to go off is all that much of an improvement. 

When he’d first returned to the compound, they’d had to hold an official meeting with him and the clan council to decide how to deal with Obito suddenly having mokuton. They’d called it a ‘discussion’ but it had felt more like a trial where everyone except Obito got to have a say in deciding his fate. The Clan Head had looked at Obito in silence for a long moment towards the end of it before telling him to harness all his abilities and hone his strength well to bring honour to the clan, and then he had firmly added, “But do not forget, Uchiha Obito, that you are first and foremost an Uchiha .” Which is a pretty clear go ahead to train using mokuton, and to do it well, but to somehow ensure that Obito isn’t associated purely with the ability because then his achievements might be attributed to the Senju name instead of the Uchiha. 

It had been Kakashi to quietly explain this to him when Obito had relayed the horrible meeting with the Clan Head and Elders, and all the weird politics that grownups keep dragging into things for no good reason makes Obito’s head hurt. How the hell is he supposed to stop people from associating him with wood release when he’s the only person in the entire village to have the Shodaime’s legendary ability anyway? 

And apparently, no one knows what to make of him anymore because he’s a wildcard among the Uchiha ranks or something. Obito doesn’t really feel like a wildcard of any sort. Mostly, he just feels perpetually tired these days. 

Having mokuton suddenly dumped upon his shoulders isn’t easy by any means, even less so when considering that Obito is essentially having to learn how to use the ability by himself because no one else really knows what to do with it. Minato tries to help as much as he can, of course, because that’s just how sensei is, but Obito still can’t do much more than summon shrivelled looking roots and make already green plants look vaguely greener. 

It’s hard not to feel disheartened. Especially when he knows he has the eyes of several people marking his progress. He gets that mokuton kind of feels like Konoha’s trademark ability instead of just being a purely Senju thing, but by Amaterasu, if these people don’t start minding their business soon Obito is going to lose it and go back to hiding in Madara’s creepy caves.

At least he has Kakashi to practise using the sharingan with. It may have scared him to death to do it, but he’s glad he fought the Elders and refused to take back the eye he’d gifted Kakashi even though his teammate had repeatedly offered to return it. 

It’s like no one here understands the concept of a gift. And these people think that Obito’s the idiot? 

The Elders might have had a chance to successfully intimidate Obito into giving in to their demands, but Rin had had the idea to try and find records on how similar situations had been dealt with by the clan in the past, and together, they’d found out that the sharingan and anything that is done with it is decided first and foremost by the person it belongs to. In the event that the person cannot present their desires for themselves, a decision can be made by their family, and the clan council only gets a say when literally no one else is available. 

Apparently, though it was rare, during the Warring Clans era, whenever an Uchiha wanted to bring a non-Uchiha into the clan for whatever reason, a surefire way to do it would be to transplant a sharingan into the person. A lot of the time, the transplant failed and the sharingan would become unusable, but supposedly it is the act itself that matters. It demonstrates trust and love to a point of sacrifice, and the Uchiha can respect that. 

In a weird way, Obito thinks he has accidentally adopted Kakashi into his clan and everyone is just sort of refusing to acknowledge it for whatever reason. Does that make Obito… Kakashi’s dad by Uchiha standards? Or like a guardian of some sort. Holy shit, what if he accidentally married Kakashi and people are just being polite by not sticking their noses into their marriage because they think he knows?!

Obito thinks back to the lecture Minato had awkwardly given them two years ago about the importance of family planning and the reckless decisions one is liable to make due to teenage hormones. Somehow, he has a feeling that this isn’t what his sensei had in mind. 

“Yo, Obito-kun,” a voice cuts through Obito’s impending mental breakdown. 

Because Obito is a respectable ninja who pays attention to his surroundings, he doesn’t jump. He does not. He only has a minor heart attack and promptly loses a bit of his soul, and he most certainly does not shriek a little. 

“Oops, did I startle you?” Worried blue eyes enter his field of vision where Obito is hunched over to try and stop his heart from attempting to launch itself right out of his chest. He can’t take any more bodily modifications. 

“Raijin-san!” Obito gasps out, immediately straightening. 

Grinning with an ease that Obito can’t help but envy, Raijin leans back out of Obito’s space. “In the flesh,” he says, winking. “I called for you a few times but it seems like you were really spaced out,” he adds. His tone is completely casual, but his eyes are alert in the same way Minato’s are when he’s evaluating them, so Obito knows better than to think he isn’t being watched right now. 

Obito forces a laugh, trying not to cringe when it comes out too nervous. He has never been particularly good at lying and he’s just as bitter as ever about it. “Yeah,” he swallows, “I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

Raijin hums. He smiles kindly when he catches Obito’s eye, reaching out to pat his shoulder. “Well, try not to overdo it, yeah?” he says, falling into step beside Obito. “No one’s asking you to master the whole mokuton thing in one week.”

Idly, he wonders how Raijin knew exactly what was bothering Obito. “I know that,” he says, and he does. Obito pauses. “I just—I know people are expecting something out of this.”

Head tilted, Raijin says, “I won’t deny that. Konoha is pretty obsessed with wood release and its legacy.”

That doesn’t exactly make Obito feel better. His shoulders slump. “Exactly,” he says with feeling. “Except they’re stuck with me wielding mokuton , and I—” Obito stops, biting his lip before ultimately admitting around the weight in his chest, “I just don’t know if I’m good enough.”

It is quiet for a long moment. Obito can tell that Raijin is studying him in that quietly watchful way of his but he can’t bring himself to look up and meet the man’s eyes. Finally, Raijin sighs. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short, Obito-kun,” he says, and nothing in his voice sounds like he’s scolding him but Obito feels sufficiently chided nonetheless. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, ducking his head. 

“Don’t be,” Raijin waves away. He lifts a hand to rest it against the back of Obito’s neck briefly and he can’t help but find the gesture oddly grounding. It’s gone before he can fully lean into it and Obito refuses to think about how it feels like a loss. “I’m just saying that you have potential, and you’re wasting it if you dismiss yourself before you can even start tapping into it. You’ve only been working with wood release for a few days. Of course it’s going to be difficult starting out; any mid- to high-ranking technique is. You can’t decide that you have no talent before you’ve even properly started.”

Obito sighs. “You’re right,” he concedes, “and I know all that stuff too. Like, at least, in my head. I get it. But it’s just…it’s hard.” Licking his lips, he keeps his gaze trained on the ground before him. “I bet Kakashi would do so much better if he got mokuton instead of me. He has always been good at picking things up really quickly. I’m just…me.”

“I’m sure Kakashi-kun would do well,” Raijin agrees with a shrug, “but that doesn’t mean you aren’t going to be able to do great things with it either. You and Kakashi-kun are different people, Obito-kun, and you are both strong in different but equally important ways. You are already an invaluable member of your team, and you still have so much growing up ahead of you; it’d be a waste to not look forward to everything you have waiting ahead for you just because you think it’s all downhill from here. You have practically your entire career ahead of you. I mean, you’re only, like, twelve or something.”

Gasping in indignation, Obito scowls at the blond beside him. “I’m fourteen!”

Raijin grins at him, unrepentant. “Sure,” he says agreeably, laughing when Obito sticks his tongue out at him. “My point is: you can’t write yourself off before you’ve properly even set out on your path. Just because you’re not Kage level at fourteen doesn’t mean you aren’t a good chuunin. Focus on the next step you have to take, work hard for it, and you’ll naturally improve.” Shrugging, the man lowers his voice and adds, “I mean, he may have been crazy and ancient, but Uchiha Madara—a legendary genius—obviously thought you had potential if he went through the trouble of kidnapping and saving you.”

Obito makes a face at the reminder but he has to admit that Raijin kind of has a point, however weirdly fucked up it may be. He still has a hard time figuring out how to feel about his stay with Madara. The doctors had told him he probably just hasn’t processed all the trauma yet, and Minato had seemed to agree with their conclusion when he’d pulled Obito aside to tell him he could always go to Minato with anything he needs, whenever he needs it. 

Which is all well and good, except that Obito just…doesn’t feel anything about his near-death and subsequent kidnapping. Like, he knows that it sucked objectively, but mostly, he’s only annoyed about the creepy old grandpa giving him mokuton to deal with and Obito needing to do regular physical therapy to rehabilitate himself before his life can really go back to being normal. 

And that’s all he really wants right now. For things to go back to being normal. 

He doesn’t want to deal with mokuton, or his clan giving him looks, or the village’s sudden expectations of him, or Minato’s careful glances, or Kakashi’s sudden weirdness, or Rin’s gentle persistent concern. 

Obito just…wants to be fine. Regular. He wants his life back, without all these new and unwanted additions. 

The only addition he’d keep is Raijin because he saved Obito when no one knew to and he’s just so cool . 

“Oh, hey,” he blinks in remembrance, “didn’t you have your evaluation thing today, Raijin-san?”

Arms folded behind his head leisurely, Raijin nods. “Yup.”

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Obito demands, “Well, how’d it go?! What did they say?”

Raijin flashes him a languid smile. “I have a jounin exam at some point apparently to figure out if they’ll give me tokujo or full jounin.”

“Really?” Obito beams, perking up as the excitement gives him a shot of much needed energy. “That’s great! I knew you’d totally make it through.”

Raijin laughs and scrubs his hand through Obito’s hair. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Obito-kun,” he says, voice rich with warmth that makes Obito feel like a puddle of liquid sunlight. “Apparently a portion of the exam is open to the public. I don’t suppose you’d like to come cheer me on?”

“You wouldn’t mind?” he asks, peering up at Raijin. Kakashi had banned him and Rin from showing up to his own jounin exam so Obito has never actually seen one. It ought to be exciting if it’s anything at all like the chuunin exams. 

“If anything, I’d appreciate the support,” Raijin assures with a gentle smile. 

Obito ducks under the attention, rubbing at the back of his neck as heat climbs up his face. It’s not like he doesn’t have any people who care about and are nice to him without wanting anything in return. He has Rin who has always been there, Kakashi who has taken to downright hovering when he thinks Obito won’t notice, Minato and his quietly steady presence, and even Kushina with her playful needling and easy laughter. Obito isn’t lacking like he used to be when he was just a kid, before Team 7 came into his life. 

But—

But. Well, Raijin doesn’t have to be nice to Obito; not the way Team 7, to a certain degree, does. He didn’t have to be nice even when he went out of his way to rescue him. He didn’t have to accompany them to Konoha. He didn’t have to continue to visit Obito in the hospital. He doesn’t have to listen to the things Obito has to say, doesn’t have to offer genuine consideration and insight, doesn’t have to smile or ruffle his hair or look at him gently or be his friend. 

And, yet, Raijin does all these things and he doesn’t seem to be bothered by some annoying fourteen-year-old hanging around and whining at him. He offers Obito the weight of his full attention and the warmth of his company like he genuinely thinks Obito is more than just some brat trying to waste his time. 

It’s—nice. Raijin is an easy person to like and Obito can’t be blamed for being just a little taken with his saviour, but more than anything, he feels weirdly valued by Raijin. He feels heard and seen and acknowledged in way that most people in Konoha don’t bother offering to him unless Obito screams and shouts and fights for every bit of it. 

“Spacing out again, kid?” 

Obito jumps, snapping to attention. “Sorry,” he says immediately, flushing. “Did I miss something?”

“No,” Raijin tells him, his gaze contemplative. His lips pull downwards into a worried frown. Worry for Obito, like he really cares. “Are you sure you’re okay, Obito-kun?”

Feeling shaken and recognised and warm all over, a wobbly smile slowly makes its way onto Obito’s face. He offers it to Raijin and lets himself close his eye and lean into it when Raijin smooths down his curls and leaves his hands there like he knows Obito kind of needs and desperately wants it there. 

“Yeah, Raijin-san,” he says, feeling his heart beat like a hummingbird flapping its wings. “I’m better now.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, nii-chan,” Raijin starts, abruptly looking up from where he’d been reviewing for his upcoming jounin exam, “can I ask you something real quick?”

Minato glances away from the report he’d been working on in companiable silence with his brother and blinks. “Yes, of course.” If Raijin didn’t know any better, he’d say Minato seems almost eager to be of assistance.

As much as he’d like to linger on the fondness that brings to him, Raijin swiftly moves on. He has been meaning to broach a slightly difficult topic with Minato and he needs to pay attention to observe his brother’s reaction. “Does the village like…have something against the Uchiha?”

Minato’s eyebrows shoot up for only the smallest fraction of a second before a significantly more guarded expression takes place of the initial surprise. He eyes Raijin contemplatively, the scrutiny of an experienced shinobi at the forefront of his demeanour. “What makes you think that?” he asks carefully, setting his report aside and turning to the younger man.

Raijin swallows under the heavy weight of Minato’s full attention. He has a feeling the man before him is less brother and more shinobi right now. This is the Namikaze Minato who became the youngest Hokage ever.

“I could be wrong,” he blurts out, looking away from the overwhelming sharpness of Minato’s gaze. He knows he isn’t, but it’s dangerous territory to bring up to a shinobi loyal to their village—a lot of the times, loyalty can mean being unable to admit the faults of the system they belonged to. He doesn’t know enough about how Minato was or is to be able predict where the man may lie on that spectrum. Raijin bites his lip and thinks over his words cautiously. “It’s just…strange, I guess.”

Sensing that Raijin’s guard has gone up, Minato softens his own edges. It’s a difficult line to walk between family and work, but he won't get anything useful out of Raijin this way. “Hey,” he lowers his voice and peers over to catch his little brother’s eye, smiling encouragingly, “it’s okay. You can tell me.”

It feels like a trap. Raijin regards Minato with pursed lips and sighs. It’s not like he has a choice. He can’t do anything about the Uchiha without relying on Minato’s aid politically since there’s no real way to garner that much trust and influence within the time frame he has. Sometimes there’s no other way but through.

“It just doesn’t make much sense to me,” he settles on at last. “I know they’re a founding clan—the only one left now, right? So why are people so wary of them?”

Minato blinks, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Like, I’ve seen them just go about their business and they get these…looks, I guess? They almost never talk to anyone outside their clan from what I can tell. The civilians are always skittish in their interactions with them and the shinobi seem to avoid them too, and I couldn’t really figure out why.” Scratching at his cheek, he sheepishly admits, “I considered getting my foxes to investigate but I figured that’d probably be a bad idea when I’m barely even part of the village yet.”

Without missing a beat, Minato frowns. “Of course, you’re a part of the village now, Raijin.”

Raijin shrugs carelessly. “Sure,” he nods, “but I’m the new guy in a shinobi village during wartime. It’s a weird position to be in. Anyways, that’s not the point.”

Minato hums, tilting his head. “Well, it’s not abnormal for people to be wary of those in power. The Uchiha are our primary law enforcement after all. It’s probably hard to not be overly aware around them.”

Making a face, Raijin shakes his head. “I guess, but—” He hesitates. “Look, this is purely an outsider perspective, okay? I’m not, like, trying to point any fingers.”

“I know that, Raijin,” Minato says patiently, “I’m not saying you are.”

“Right.” Raijin nods once. “When you’re that wary of someone, it comes off as kind of distrusting, you know? It can’t be easy to have the entire village treat you so distantly. Like you’re not part of them or different from the entity of the village somehow.”

Minato frowns but he appears to be deep in thought, turning to look at the table they’d been working at with narrowed eyes. “You’re not wrong,” he concedes slowly. “The Uchiha also end up in conflict with the ANBU often because their jurisdictions as in-village peacekeepers overlap sometimes.”

“Their compound is what really got me thinking, to be honest,” Raijin brings up. “It’s a mini-village in there. And that's cool and all, I guess, but I didn’t get why they had so many of their own shops for food and clothes and weapons when the whole point of the Hidden Villages was to take the economic burden of self-sufficiency off of the individual clans. Like, pooling resources together and redistributing them is practically the basis of village function. So why are the Uchiha separate enough to the point that they could close their gates tomorrow and still survive within those walls for years without a problem? Unless, of course, I’m talking out of my ass here and all clan compounds in Konoha just work like that.”

Mouth twisting, Minato shakes his head. “No, you have the right idea. Nothing’s stopping them from doing it, but most clans don’t bother being self-sufficient anymore. The individual unit for external conflict has gone from being a clan to a village, so it’s an unnecessary allocation of their funds to prepare to be able to function that way. As far as I know, no other clan in Konoha partakes in the practice anymore.”

“Except for the Uchiha,” Raijin says knowingly, “and that tells you something, doesn’t it? I get that it might not be my business, but this just…it really doesn’t seem like a good thing. No other clan is being treated this way from what I can tell, and I think the Uchiha are aware of that too. It doesn’t feel sustainable. Something's got to give at some point.”

Minato regards him with a calculative gleam in his eyes. Raijin tries not to shudder at the way being observed in such a distinctly cold way makes him feel like an insect under a magnifying glass. “You’re awfully sharp, Raijin,” Minato comments at last. “It isn’t easy to take so many pieces and put them together so quickly and accurately.”

Ducking his head to avoid his brother’s stare, Raijin laughs nervously. “Ah, you think so?” He taps his finger against his knee and smiles thinly. “I guess I’m just good at being nosy.”

“You shouldn’t be so dismissive of your own talents,” Minato frowns. “You’ve been here for a month, Raijin. It only took you that long to observe a situation, add context clues and then come to a startlingly accurate conclusion. A conclusion that should be staring us natives in the face even.” He tilts his head at an angle that sets Raijin’s teeth on edge. “And yet, it didn’t even occur to me to consider the potential future ramifications of the Uchiha clan’s precarious position within the village.”

‘Oh,’ Kurama says within the seal, having sat up fully to pay attention to what was unfolding before his jinchuuriki’s eyes. ‘Oh, I don’t like this one bit.’

Raijin agrees. He doesn’t think anything about this conversation is going to land him in T&I for treason or espionage, and that’s a win in his mind, but he feels an awful lot like prey being regarded by a predator right now and he doesn’t like it. ‘Think we need to book it? If I run now, I might catch him off guard and get a head start to Uzushio.’

‘You’re probably fine,’ Kurama says slowly, but his ears are still perked up and tense. ‘I’ll lend you my chakra if it comes down to it, of course.’

It’s not like he wants to run away from Minato. He really does like having a brother and belonging to a village again. But he’s not going to take any risks before he can take Danzo’s scheming ass out of the picture for good. Raijin stays where he is, muscles tense and jutsu on the tip of his tongue just in case Minato decides he’s a spy or something.

“Raijin,” Minato begins, “what do you think is likely to happen if nothing is done about the Uchiha?”

The younger man presses his lips into a thin line. His brother is testing him, he can tell; he just doesn’t know why. Still, he doesn’t think there’s much point in lying. Especially if he can secure help to prevent an entire clan’s massacre. Face set with an edge of grimness, he says, “If people believe they aren’t receiving what they are owed, they are likely to take it by whatever means are necessary. The Uchiha might not ask to be included at all; in the worst case scenario, they’ll simply take what they believe in rightfully theirs.” A coup d'état and then a culling. 

“A bold allegation,” Minato comments lightly.

“A theoretical possibility,” Raijin corrects simply. “They could also just politely ask to renegotiate their position.”

“But you don’t think they will.”

In his mind, Kurama rumbles, ‘Careful, kit. Watch where you step.’

Gritting his teeth, Raijin resists the urge to stand up and put physical distance between himself and his brother. “I think that they’re a founding clan and started out as one of the main pillars of this village. An entire clan of such standing doesn’t just get to where they are in like half a century. It doesn’t work like that.”

“So?” Minato prompts, leaning back leisurely.

Raijin’s eyes narrow slightly. He licks his lips. “Their treatment doesn’t seem like a mistake to me,” he admits finally. “If I really think about it, the problem starts all the way back with putting them solely in charge of the police force and then making their headquarters on the outskirts by the prison. And maybe that wasn’t an intentional slight against them at first, but Konoha has consistently remained famous for its geniuses, and I find it hard to believe that none of them ever noticed how an entire clan is slowly being pushed out of the village. Someone out there knows and might even be making it happen. The Uchiha might not have enough faith to ask to negotiate if they feel like no one will listen.”

When Minato smiles, it is a restrained thing, and still, it somehow feels like a baring of teeth. Raijin eyes it warily and keeps himself carefully still. He almost jumps clean out his skin when Minato’s arm darts out lightning fast. His hand immediately hones in on its target before Raijin can so much as blink, and then the younger shinobi stares somewhat blankly as his elder brother scrubs at his hair enthusiastically.

“Where did you come from, hm?” Minato coos, leveraging his weight against Raijin to keep him in place when the younger tries to dodge his grabby fingers. Minato pinches at whiskered cheeks and grins, eyes bright with a wicked gleam that is equal parts calculation and pride. “How did you get so smart? Where have you been hiding all this time?”

Immediately giving up because Minato has the upper hand in both height and weight, Raijin lets himself get manhandled, allowing Minato to put an arm around him and bring him close until their shoulders are pressed together. “Maybe it runs in the family,” he suggests weakly.

It’s not like he can admit to coming from the future and being privy to all sorts of secrets he has no business knowing. 

Minato laughs, bright and high, throwing his head back and leaning against Raijin. “Maybe,” he agrees, grinning. “I meant it earlier, you know. You really are skilled to be able to see these things so clearly—how they might have come about and how they are likely to affect Konoha.” He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. “A head for bureaucracy, perhaps?”

Raijin sinks further back against the sofa in his apartment, ducking his head. Minato has taken to absentmindedly scratching at his scalp, and it feels unfairly nice. “I don’t know,” he mumbles.

“Don’t go getting shy now,” Minato teases, chuckling as he deftly dodges the swipe Raijin makes for his face. “I’m serious, Raijin. You bring a uniquely objective point of view to the table and you have a good sense of insight to back it up. Almost intuitively too, it seems. That’s valuable to a place like this.”

Frowning, Raijin pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around them. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?” he points out wryly. It's not like he's going to run for Hokage or something now. “No one’s going to listen to what some random nineteen-year-old who doesn’t even have an official rank yet has to say.” He snorts and shakes his head. “What are they going to do—invite me to a council meeting out of nowhere?”

Minato smiles, contemplative and secretive. The hair on the back of Raijin’s neck stands up on edge as he gets that distinct prey vs predator feeling again. In sheer juxtaposition, Minato pets him like he isn’t actively making Raijin consider the benefits of becoming a hermit on an abandoned mountaintop somewhere far away thanks to his weird cryptic behaviour.

“Well, you never know.”

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?”

“Don’t you go worrying about that.”

“You’re so goddamned weird, nii-chan. This is why I like Kushina-nee better.”

“Hey, you take that back!”

Chapter Text

“Hurry up, Bakashi! Rin’s already waiting up there for us! What if it starts before we even make it to the stands?” Obito huffs, bodily dragging Kakashi behind him as he marches purposefully up the stairs to the viewing platform, determination set on his face.

Kakashi sighs. For once, it seems like Obito is determined to make it on time. There were no old ladies stuck in trees or cats that needed help crossing streets or whatever to speak of. He has always suspected Obito has been chatting out of his ass this whole time; it’s nice to finally get the confirmation. As always, Kakashi is right. Order is restored to the universe. Everyone can pack up and go home now.

He doesn’t even get what the big deal is about this whole assessment. He’d only had Minato at his own jounin exam and that had already been pushing his limits even though Minato had needed to be there as the person who nominated Kakashi for the promotion in the first place. It’s supposed to be an exam, not a spectacle.

Obito obviously disagrees. What Kakashi can’t decide is whether this is because Obito wants to see a jounin exam in general or because he just wants to Namikaze Raijin in action. Honestly, it could just be both.

For all that Kakashi himself has only spoken to the man once, he hears an awful lot about Raijin. Obito seems to be prepared to launch into a lecture about the man’s ‘coolness’, advise giving skills and sense of humour at any given moment, like it is something he rehearses every night before going to bed.

Minato isn’t much better. He’s less vocal about it because their sensei likes to pretend he can somehow maintain his dignity around them even after they’ve seen him walk into a tree on multiple separate occasions because he’d been too busy daydreaming about his seals or Kushina. But he always gets a dopey look on his face whenever someone so much as mentions his brother, his chakra going warm and fuzzy and expanding like hot summer air, becoming noticeable even without being directly in contact with their chakra.

Rin thinks it’s hilarious. She’s too polite to outright laugh at her teammates but her eyes take on that particular gleam and the corners of her mouth get pinched like she’s barely biting back a smile. Most people don’t believe that Rin is a meddler through and through, but Team 7 knows all too well. Rin likes being nosy involved and she likes laughing at her team and she likes them being happy. Raijin becoming somewhat of a fixture in their lives despite being a veritable stranger checks all those boxes for her.

It seems like Kakashi is the only one who doesn’t know what to make of Raijin. Admittedly, he isn’t really a fan of change—especially one that closely involves two of his most precious people. It puts him on edge that both Obito and Minato are so emotionally invested in this strange shinobi who seems to have dropped into their lives quite literally out of nowhere.

No matter how he thinks about it, it isn’t smart to trust a stranger so much to the point of exposing such vulnerability to them. Obito looks up to Raijin as something of an older brother, and Kakashi gets that it’d be hard to not to do that consider Raijin literally saved Obito’s life, but he doesn’t think he’s wrong to think that some caution is still warranted.

If not from Obito, then from Minato at least. It’s not like he thinks Minato is stupid—far from it; Kakashi knows exactly how capable Minato is and just how shrewd the man can be. He has to have good reason to accept Raijin so easily into his life, especially in the middle of a war, but Kakashi can’t help the part of him that stands on edge at the thought of what this shinobi could do to the people Kakashi loves and cares about.

Like it or not, Kakashi is a Hatake of the main line. He is literally genetically wired to be closer to his instincts than most other shinobi, and something about the man had set Kakashi on edge from the moment they met. There had been a certainty within him that there is more to Raijin than appears to the eye, raising the hairs on the back of his neck when their eyes had first met and Raijin had looked at Kakashi like he knew all there is to know and then some about him, all before Obito had even introduced them.

Something about the man is familiar. Like a dream that Kakashi can’t remember anymore. There is a surety about him that shouldn’t exist considering that Kakashi doesn’t know him. It itches at the back of his mind but he can never seem to grasp what it is. Why he keeps feeling like he should recognise Raijin, should remember him from somewhere; should have some explanation for why the more instinctual part of his brain is convinced the man is safe and will keep Kakashi safe too.

It doesn’t make sense. It is clear the blond wields a powerful charisma, and he does it well, too. Knowingly. Comfortably. People like that are people to be watched. They’re easy to let your guard around and that makes them dangerous.

Kakashi feels discomfort in how he too wants to give in and trust Raijin when he still doesn’t know the man. If no one else maintains a wariness for him until he has proven himself to be trustworthy, then Kakashi will—for the sake of the people he cares about.

Neither Obito nor Minato deserve to get their hearts broken, and Kakashi will make sure they don’t.

“Yo, Bakakashi,” Obito waves his hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his reverie, “quit being lame and zoning out. The exam is gonna start and you’ll end up missing it.”

Kakashi rolls his eye and shoves Obito’s hand away. He crosses his arms and glares at the arena below them. “I didn’t even want to be here in the first place,” he grumbles.

Obito rolls his eye right back, making a face for good measure. “It’s not like you were doing anything important anyway.”

“Besides,” Rin chimes in from Obito’s other side, leaning out to smile disarmingly, “it’s good for both of you to spend time together. The key to a happy life together and all that.”

Letting out an absolutely scandalised gasp, Obito whirls around to gape at her. “Rin!” he shrieks, his voice reaching quite the impressive pitch for a teenage boy.

Entirely unrepentant, Rin only blinks at him with wide eyes and smiles with feigned bemusement, obviously rather pleased with herself.

Kakashi…doesn’t get it. She has taken to making comments like that every now and then, and more often than not, it results in Obito getting a weird look on his face as he shoots shifty glances at Kakashi repeatedly. There’s clearly some shared secret there that Obito wants to keep hidden from him in particular, and Kakashi tries to not care but it’s starting to kind of get on his nerves to be honest.

He doesn’t want to be on the outside anymore. He knows now that he can’t afford to waste time acting like he isn't emotionally invested in the people he has grown to care for despite his best efforts. Kakashi doesn’t want to feel like he’s still the boy he used to be—the one that didn’t know to appreciate what he had until his teammate was crushed under a pile of rocks and it was his fault.

Man, why can’t things ever just be easy for once?

Kakashi sighs, feeling a lot older than just eleven-years-old.

“Oooo, he’s here! He’s here!” Obito points excitedly, leaning far against the railing to grin down at the arena where Raijin has just stepped up onto the platform.

Kakashi narrows his eye at the man as Raijin immediately catches sight of them thanks to Obito’s enthusiastic flailing and shoots them a languid grin and wave. It’s not just false bravado either. The line of his shoulders is at ease and the slant of his mouth is relaxed. This is a man who doesn’t believe he has to worry about his performance.

According to Obito, there’s some reason for that—apparently Raijin is only here so they can figure out if he’ll make tokujo or full jounin. Either way, the man will walk out of here with a high rank by the end of testing period. Well, at least, Minato’s only brother will not be disappointing the expectations the village no doubt already has for him.

Akimichi Chouza—the exam proctor—walks out onto the platform and clears his throat to bring them all to attention. “We will now be proceeding with the jounin exam for Raijin,” he announces. Kakashi blinks at the lack of surname used. No Namikaze? “Konohagakure requires its jounin to display proficiency in a wide array of skills. Today’s tests will include those for taijutsu, genjutsu, ninjutsu and a specialisation. Are you ready, Raijin-kun?”

Flashing the proctor a quicksilver smile, Raijin nods.

Chouza smiles and nods back. “Very well. The first round will be a demonstration of your taijutsu against Hyuuga Yoichi. You don’t need to win; the judges will decide whether you pass or not depending on the level of proficiency you display.”

Once Raijin gives his acknowledgement, Chouza takes a step back and waves Yoichi onto the platform.

“You will fight until one of you forfeits or is unable to continue any further. Killing and maiming are not permitted. Understood?”

Again, Chouza waits until both shinobi give their acknowledgement and then finally leaves the stage. In the space of a heartbeat, the match is called to start.

Even so, nothing happens at first. Both shinobi slip into their respective stances. The Hyuuga falls into the typical defensive ready stance of the Gentle Fist. Raijin lowers his own centre of gravity, arms coming up to defend his core. Both of them stay tense, eyeing the other with knife-like focus. Not unusual considering a Hyuuga is at play here. It’s always a good idea to keep distance before the Gentle Fist can succeed and block off any of your tenketsu, rendering limbs useless for the rest of the fight.

Kakashi’s gaze drifts over to the opposite side of the upper floor where the viewing box is for judges and nominators. The Hokage himself has made an appearance to come watch, an unusual occurrence for typical jounin exams. Really just drives home that nothing about Raijin’s circumstances is ordinary to have such big players be invested in him. Minato watches his brother with sharp eyes, his face unreadable. Next to him, Jiraiya’s face is split into a wide grin. Since they’re the ones who officially nominated Raijin for this exam, his performance reflects directly on their judgement. Even so, neither of them looks particularly nervous. Jiraiya looks downright thrilled.

Kakashi rolls his eye. Everyone has gotten caught up with this new guy and straight up lost their damn minds as far as he’s concerned.

Raijin, for his part, already seems to be done with trying to play defensively. All at once, he is moving, smoothly flowing into a crouched run and darting in close to try and take out his opponent’s feet from under him, forcing Hyuuga Yoichi to leap back. Giving him no time to catch his bearings, Raijin closes the distance immediately and presses in close, lashing out hard and fast with a series of jabs and punches that force Yoichi to maintain his defence. As soon as Yoichi attempts a counterattack, Raijin is whirling into a roundhouse kick to force him back.

“His style is…” Obito trails off, unsure, leaning further out to get an unobstructed view. His sharingan is on, tomoe swirling lazily as he surveys the fight closely.

“It’s a mess,” Kakashi summarises blandly.

That’s not to say that Raijin is bad by any means. In fact, he’s good. He’s fighting close quarters with a Gentle Fist user and successfully keeping his opponent on their back foot while he does it. What is strange about him is how much of a mishmash his personal style is.

It might be harder for Rin and Obito to pick up since they don’t have as much experience fighting outside the village having only made chuunin recently, but Kakashi recognises some of Raijin’s patterns and stances. Keeping his arms near his core in an Earth typical defence, using shin kicks to keep Yoichi at a distance like a Wind shinobi, the fast boxing style from Lightning, and the neatly flexible form of Konoha’s own taijutsu style.

He has never seen anything like it before and Kakashi can’t help but gape a little. Raijin deftly dodges Yoichi’s palm strike, easily moving into a kick aimed at the Hyuuga’s face as he flips away, using his hands to twist halfway through so when he stands back up, he can maintain his balance enough to immediately throw himself into a hard crosscut punch.

The patchwork of styles shouldn’t make sense, but it does. It’s like watching an optimal combination of speed, force and stamina. Raijin’s fighting isn’t graceful like Minato, Jiraiya or even Gai. It’s brash and quick and meant to force a path through where there is none. But it’s effective and there is next to no wasted movement. Anything that isn’t necessary has been completely stripped away and what is left behind has been taken and twisted into something incredibly efficient.

Now, Kakashi isn’t a taijutsu specialist or master himself, but if he had to guess, he’d say that Raijin used Konoha’s taijutsu katas as a basis. They might have been the first ones he learnt so he has just built his other skills on top, or it could be that Konoha's style is simply the one that provides the most stable foundation to support the insane column of his other styles.

Either way, it’s new and unpredictable. To his credit, Yoichi does a good job reacting to it, lending credit to his own skill. He’s unable to land too many effective hits but he also doesn’t take too much damage himself. The problem for him lies in that he can’t get in close for long enough to close Raijin’s tenketsu points which drags the fight out. It puts Gentle Fist at a disadvantage if it can't serve its primary purpose.

The whole thing might very well come down to who can hold out for longer.

And, initially, Kakashi bets against Raijin. It seems logical at first when considering how much moving around the blond has to do to always dance out of Yoichi’s reach. But then as the minutes pass by, Yoichi starts making attacks that stay closer to himself and Raijin still doesn’t appear to have even broken a sweat. His hits lose no force or speed, his feet never stop moving, and he continues to lead Yoichi around the stage like he has all day to spare.

“He fights like Kushina-san,” Rin comments quietly, her eyes slightly narrowed in thought.

She’s right. Kushina favours a strategy that involves simply tiring her opponents out since her stamina is entirely unrivalled by virtue of her large charka reserves. She wins most pure taijutsu spars because there’s no way to physically outlast her and she’s good enough that only skilled opponents have the technique to take her down successfully.

Looking at Raijin, Kakashi can see where Rin caught the similarities. There’s a grin on the man’s face that speaks of familiarity; he is relaxed because he probably predicted this. It’s not like he and Yoichi have been waiting in stillness all this time. He has consistently kept the other man moving at a relentless pace with his flurry of attacks, and Raijin is skilled enough that simply responding to him without missing a beat is a difficult and draining task.

All this time, he has been edging Yoichi towards exhaustion, waiting and watching for the first sign of the man getting tired enough to make a decisive move.

And it finally comes. Being tired means slower response time and a higher likelihood of simply missing things. It isn’t easy to watch everything your opponent is doing and everything they’re gearing up to do to follow up. The constant awareness is a hard thing to maintain even with the aid of a byakugan, and at last, Yoichi trips up.

Raijin feints with a left hook that the other man shifts to block, leaving his flank wide open. Without missing a beat, Raijin lowers himself and plants his fist in Yoichi’s gut, visibly knocking the wind out of the man. He doesn’t wait any longer, following up immediately to target the same spot he just hit again, putting enough strength behind each punch that he lifts Yoichi clean off his feet with each strike.

Yoichi doesn’t even make it back to the ground before he’s being thrown back from a direct kick to the face. The Hyuuga scrambles to prevent a static fall, throwing himself into a backward roll so he can come up standing. Good thing he does because Raijin is on him again within a second, merciless in exploiting every ounce of damage he has dealt since the beginning of the fight, specifically going after the spots he knows he has weakened.

Breath caught in his throat, Kakashi can’t help but lean forwards as he watches Raijin spin into a high kick, his foot catching the side of Yoichi’s head and hurling the man straight into the ground.

The entire arena watches, waiting for what both the men will do next. But Yoichi stays down, form crumpled in a heap, and it becomes clear that the man has been effectively knocked out by that final clip in the head.

Chouza approaches the platform, crouching down briefly to make sure the Hyuuga is in fact still alive before turning to address the audience. “Yoichi-kun is rendered unable to continue. Raijin-kun wins the taijutsu round.”

“Hell yeah!” Obito whoops, pumping his fist through the air.

Kakashi cringes. This is why he hadn’t allowed his teammates to come see his own exam. They’d have made a ruckus in their support of him and Kakashi would have probably ended up using an earth jutsu to become a permanent smudge on the ground.

Raijin doesn’t appear to be embarrassed in the least though. The man simply spins around to flash them a smile and a V-sign, winking at Obito with laughter in the lines of his face.

“That was fun,” Rin declares around a grin, looking satisfied with how the fight turned out.

“They’ll do ninjutsu next, yeah?” Obito asks, directing his question to Kakashi.

Kakashi shakes his head. “They’ll test how he holds up against genjutsu first. Then there’s three ninjutsu matches. You’re required to win at least one and do reasonably well in the others. They’ll probably break for the day after the specialty skills round.”

Gaping, Obito shudders. “That’s so convoluted. Why are there so many tests?”

“They can’t just let anyone become jounin,” Kakashi points out. “Plenty of people never make it.”

“Well, at least Raijin-san seems to be off to a good start,” Rin offers.

Obito nods in enthusiastic agreement. “And ninjutsu is his main thing apparently,” he chimes in. “He won against the jounin who did his preliminary test, you know.”

“So he’s probably set for those too.” Rin hums idly, turning to Kakashi. “What did you do for your specialty round, Kakashi-kun?”

“I had a spar with my tanto,” he answers. “You’re supposed to show proficiency in some weapon other than kunai and shuriken, or have a specialisation in T&I or something.”

Obito tilts his head. “I wonder what Minato-sensei did.”

Rin shrugs. “Fuuinjutsu maybe?” she suggests.

Frowning, Kakashi shakes his head. “I’m not sure if he was good enough back then actually. There aren’t many seal masters around anymore, so I don’t really know what the required qualification is.”

“Either way, Raijin-san is almost definitely going to use sealing as his specialty,” Obito interjects. “Think it’ll be another spar? That has to be rough.”

Rin winces and nods in sympathy. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

By the time it all comes to an end, Raijin kind of just wants to make like Shikamaru and go find some nice grassy hill to curl up and take a nap on.

The jounin exams are literally so complicated for what.

At least he doesn't have to bother worrying about his results. Everyone in the arena had known even before the second day of testing ended. Raijin had won his taijutsu match, annoyed the hell out of the Uchiha shinobi who couldn’t keep him in a genjutsu for the life of him, breezed through all three of his ninjutsu matches, and then nearly blown up the whole arena during his fuuinjutsu specialty spar.

Using seals in battle is still a work in progress, honestly, but at least Raijin had gotten to have fun with the challenge. He could have demonstrated his proficiency even by sitting down and peacefully drawing out seals for other purposes but that wouldn’t be fun for anyone. This way, everyone got to enjoy a spectacle.

Except for the poor kunoichi he almost exploded on accident. She probably didn’t appreciate that. Oops.

The glorified game of tag in the woods had been fun too. Raijin had been tasked with hunting at least six out of twelve scrolls hidden throughout the Forest of Death. That included scrolls attached to shinobi of various ranks who actively moved around to make it hard for him to track down. The idea was to prove his trapping, tracking, and intelligence gathering skills. Admittedly, he’d maybe had a bit too much fun with unleashing his…creativity in that one.

He's pretty sure at least one genin has been irreversibly traumatised. ANBU's Jackal will probably never be able to stomach the sight of confetti ever again either.

But it’s not like that’s his problem.

Raijin just did as asked and went above and beyond to deliver. He has jounin in the bag.

Until he doesn’t.

“You don’t exactly have mission records,” Hiruzen explains, looking amused by the uncomprehending way Raijin blinks at him. “You’ve proven that your skills are undeniable but we have no precedent for what kind of missions best suit you. The quality of your performance, how you behave on a team, and how you respond to leading on the field—these are all important factors in deciding what kind of missions you can be assigned to going forward.”

Okay. That…makes sense, unfortunately.

Sighing, Raijin scratches at his cheek. “Well, how are you planning on finding all that out without sending me on missions?”

“I will be sending you on missions,” Hiruzen corrects with a shake of his head. “You are being assigned a jounin supervisor who will accompany you on each mission. If needed, he will intervene, but his primary task is simply to observe you.”

That also makes sense. Raijin nods slowly. “Okay. What kind of missions?”

Hiruzen puffs out a breath through his pipe, the scent of tobacco wafting over and burning in Raijin’s nostrils. “We’ll start with solo B-ranks. Depending on how you do in all your missons, I’ll see about testing you with a S-rank at the end. Once you have at least fifteen missions under your belt, you will have your official rank as a full jounin of Konohagakure.”

Raijin hums. He knows that it’s essential for him to assimilate as a functional member of the village—not just for the sake of his mission but also for his future beyond that. He needs to have purpose after he has finished securing the future; needs a source of income, friends, family, and a home.

But he can’t say he’s looking forward to completing high ranking missions for a village at war. Not after being a part of the shinobi alliance and fighting alongside people from every country, getting to know their stories and learning from them. It won’t be easy to turn back from all that and start fighting solely for Konoha’s sake again—not when it includes actively dealing heavy damage to people who had been his allies and friends. People who fought and died for him.

Sage, what a mess.

If he’s lucky, he’ll get away with manning outposts and running carrier missions. Maybe even rescue and retrievals.

Realistically, though, he knows what he’d do if he was in Hiruzen’s shoes with a shinobi of Raijin’s calibre before him. He knows he’s practically a textbook frontline fighter what with him being a ninjutsu powerhouse. To put him anywhere else would be to waste manpower.

Raijin will most likely not be getting lucky.

He purses his lips. Compartmentalise and deal with it later. There’s no time right now; not until he has figured out what to do about ROOT and the Uchiha problem.

“Who are you going to assign as my supervisor?” he asks tentatively. He’s hoping it’ll be someone he doesn’t know. No sudden attacks of emotions to worry about that way.

Except that it seems like Hiruzen has it out for him for some reason because the next words that come out of his mouth immediately have Raijin considering the benefits of fucking right off to some glacier in Land of Snow.

“Nara Shikaku,” the old man says as if he isn’t actively making life difficult for Raijin. “I believe you’re already familiar with him.”

There’s laughter in his eyes as he says this. Like it’s an inside joke. Like Raijin shouldn’t be trying to figure out how he’s going to fake another identity to infiltrate the village again once this whole farce falls apart.

Because there’s one person who could see through all of Raijin’s bullshit to figure out exactly what didn’t add up about the fake parts of his persona and that is one Nara Shikaku. Future jounin commander; current Nara clan head; part-time nosy snoop; full-time genius; all round pain in the ass.

“He will be the one to accompany you on your missions and report back to me,” Hiruzen says.

Nice. Because clearly fate itself hates him in a deeply perverse way, Shikaku will literally be getting paid to watch and pick him apart. The only way this could get worse is if Kaguya herself decides to drop the fucking moon on his head right now.

“Ah, he’s here now. I can introduce the both of you,” Hiruzen carries on pleasantly. Raijin suddenly has the insane urge to stick the old man’s head right through his stupid hat for retribution. He finally gets what Sasuke’s whole deal was with revenge.

Behind him, the door opens and clicks shut.

Hiruzen spreads his hands, smiling at both his shinobi. “Nara-dono, this is Raijin-kun. You will be accompanying him on his missions to judge how he will fit in with the rest of the jounin corps. Raijin-kun, as you know, Nara-dono will be your assigned supervisor.”

When Raijin finally turns to look at Shikamaru’s dad, the Nara is already staring dead-eyed at him.

“Ugh,” Shikaku says with absolutely no preamble.

Raijin’s mouth clicks shut. Honestly, he’s kind of offended. What the fuck?

At least, Hiruzen looks just as startled.

Shikaku only sighs deeply. “You’re going to be troublesome,” he states. “I can already tell.”

And, well, Raijin can’t really say anything to that. He cringes, unable to deny it because it’s not like Shikaku’s wrong. Raijin could admit to that even if he hadn’t been told as much by Shikamaru in his own timeline. Several times, in fact. Like, thrice before breakfast on a normal day.

As though he can already sense this, Shikaku sighs again and shakes his head.

Great. So they’ll just be miserable together for the next fifteen missions or whatever. Bonding!

Raijin is absolutely going to break into Hiruzen’s house at the earliest opportunity and glue the old man’s furniture to the ceiling for this. He’s going to take Sasuke’s moniker as The Revenger.

‘I will have retribution,’ he swears solemnly.

‘Shut up,’ Kurama thinks back at him, disgruntled.

‘Vengeance!’

‘Shut up!’

Chapter Text

To be honest, Shikaku is kind of dreading his latest personal assignment at first.

It’s not like the Sandaime isn’t aware of just how much Shikaku already has on his plate. He’s a key strategist in the war they’re very much still fighting, as well as a frontline fighter whenever a situation calls for the Ino-Shika-Cho cell. He has solo missions of his own to complete, requests for assistance in the Intelligence department, a clan to run, and that’s not even mentioning the fact that he’s also currently in the process of training to take over as Jounin Commander within the year.

The absolute last thing he needs right now is another assignment. A long-term one at that.

And then he finds out that this isn’t just any old run-of-the-mill kind of long term assignment either. No, because the entire world is clearly conspiring against him for some reason, Shikaku gets saddled with babysitting Namikaze Raijin of all people.

Whatever happened to Nara being the lazy ones? Why the fuck does he have so much work to do? He literally isn’t built for this.

That isn’t to say that Shikaku dislikes Raijin necessarily. On the contrary, he’s quite grateful to the boy for when he rescued Shikaku and patched him up enough for him to get home in one piece. Say what you will about Shikaku, but he isn’t the type to forget the ones he owes a debt to. Of course he remembers the interesting boy from the woods who he’d accurately thought to be a relative of Minato’s.

But that’s the problem: the kid is related to Minato. That would have been enough on its own for Shikaku to know that the brat was going to be troublesome, just like his brother. After all, for all his charisma, Minato is still a magnet for the kind of mischief that usually leaves Shikaku feeling kind of like a raisin left to dry in the Sunagakure sun.

“Why me?” he had asked Hiruzen, hoping to convey the full force of his reluctance to take on even more work.

The old man had smiled apologetically, eyes glittering in amusement. “I’m sorry, Nara-dono,” he offered, “but I need a skilled shinobi to keep an eye on him.”

That had been interesting. Not surprising at all, but still interesting.

The Sandaime isn’t yet senile enough to not see how leaving a strange shinobi nobody knows anything about in charge of high ranking missions is practically begging for trouble. That’s the kind of stupidity that ends in betrayal and death, and quite frankly, the village can’t take much more damage.

As it is, funding another war is taking enough of a toll on them. The number of missions they usually take has taken a hit with civilians not wanting to involve themselves in the shinobi wars, and they’re having to purchase necessities for the population that they would usually get from civilian imports because their borders are too tightly regulated right now for trade to be easy or profitable. They can’t afford to screw up and let a betrayal be the final nail in their coffin.

So, Shikaku sucks it up, does as he has been ordered to do, and keeps a watchful eye on Raijin at all times throughout the course of every mission the boy runs for Konoha.

At first, he’s mostly just doing it because he has been asked to. But the more he watches, the more he gets the creeping sense that something about Raijin just doesn’t quite add up.

On some level, Raijin is everything he seems to be on the surface. Bright, bold and brilliant.

He pulls Shikaku into conversation despite his best efforts to escape interaction, and he laughs wholeheartedly like he didn’t just singlehandedly wreak havoc on an Iwa supply camp not twenty minutes prior. He marches on, teeth bared at the world, and he never looks back.

Five missions become ten become fifteen and Raijin doesn’t stumble once.

And Shikaku watches all this as a distant spectator, unable to look away. It’s a bit like watching an entire forest catch fire; a lot like staring at a hurricane tear through everything in its path.

It is clear the boy is a shinobi through and through. He doesn’t balk at anything they see even when they wade through the worst of the damage left behind on their battlefields, his face settling into the grim edge of cold professionalism until his job is done to his satisfaction. Much like Minato, Raijin temporarily discards his friendly openness in favour of responsibility, adapts to every situation, and does whatever it takes.

This is a boy who has seen and fought in wars of his own. There’s no mistaking it—shinobi who have been soldiers just have a different air to them.

What does throw Shikaku off is how good a leader Raijin makes. They hadn’t expected much from him on that front because the kid grew up on his own without the systematic team-centric conditioning that Konoha puts its shinobi through. It had been mostly for the sake of having a record on him that he’d been assigned as the lead on three team missions—all of them inconsequential to the village in the long run.

Except that Raijin had displayed clear propensity for it, easily slipping into existing team dynamics, regardless of seniority among members, and making smart use of them on the field like he’d been leading people for a living his whole life. Like he has been trained for it specifically.

He doesn’t struggle with teammates who are clan members and have additional political dynamics in play either. Raijin is completely unfazed even when he gets assigned to work with a Hyuuga and Uchiha on the same team, and he manages to actually maintain peace between them for the entirety of the mission. He makes considerations for clan abilities and uses them in his plans specifically without ever needing to be told of their strength and weaknesses. If anything, Raijin works better with clan shinobi than anyone else, appearing more comfortable with their quirks and abilities.

He takes clear steps to communicate with his team and account for their skill sets, and he takes their suggestions into consideration before accepting or rejecting them with reasons provided. He’s used to it.

By the end of the month, with fifteen back-to-back missions completed to near perfection at the most efficient pace possible, Shikaku finds himself standing back in the Hokage’s office to give his report, and this time, he has quite a bit more to say.

“He has been trained by a Konoha shinobi,” Shikaku states plainly.

Hiruzen frowns ever so slightly. “Tell me why you think so.”

“His taijutsu foundations, his go-to team formations, his reporting style, the Multiple Shadow Clones jutsu, and his knowledge of Konoha hand signs,” Shikaku lists mechanically. “There’s no way he got his hands on such extensive information without having been trained for it. And it’s clearly something he learned early on too—he doesn’t realise it’s unusual for him to know these things and he uses each one without thinking twice about it. Reflexively.”

The Sandaime hums, eyebrows furrowed in thought. “What do you think?”

Shikaku presses his lips together. “He has admitted to having known a Konoha shinobi before,” he points out. “Iruka, I believe? And we did suspect he has more than above average knowledge on the village and its workings. He knew I was a Nara when he rescued me before I ever said anything.”

“Did he get all that information from this Iruka person or did he go looking for it on his own when he decided to become an information broker is the question,” Hiruzen mutters, fingertips steepled.

“Who Iruka even was is another question,” Shikaku points out. “A defector, a retiree, a potential threat—it’s important to know how he might have influenced Namikaze. He claimed to favour Konoha shinobi because of this man’s influence but that could have just as easily been a lie.”

Hiruzen doesn’t look too pleased. He nods regardless.

“What bothers me is how we never once heard of Raijin until a few months ago,” Shikaku admits. “Where did he really come from? Where did he grow up? How did he get this strong and have it fly completely under our radar?”

“You suspect something?” Hiruzen asks.

Shrugging, Shikaku waves his hand noncommittally. “It’s a theory,” he acquiesces. “I think he might have been part of some sort of unaffiliated shinobi group up until recently.”

The old man blinks. “Like the Akatsuki?”

“He’s too experienced in working with people for it to not be true,” Shikaku points out. “He was probably their leader too.”

“And yet we didn’t hear a thing,” Hiruzen mutters, looking perturbed as he idly scratches against the grain of his desk.

Shikaku smiles wryly. “We can’t know of everything. It’s possible they operated too far west for our networks to have prioritised or picked up on, especially with two back-to-back wars.” He shakes his head. “Besides, I’m pretty sure the kid is all that’s left of whatever group he had. It might be why he intervened on Akatsuki’s behalf and helped fortify Ame’s own defences.”

“Do you think he could be a spy?” the Sandaime asks bluntly, his eyes narrowed and cold.

Shikaku shifts. “I’d like him not to be,” he says honestly. “If he is a spy, then that says a lot about whoever he works for. It would mean someone found Namikaze’s only living relative as a child and trained him specifically to infiltrate Konoha someday. That’s meticulous, tenacious, and risky as hell.”

“Indeed.” Hiruzen sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, looking impossibly old and weary.

“The possibility is never zero,” Shikaku points out grimly. “He hasn’t done anything yet—that could either mean he’s innocent, or that he’s good at his job. And with summons like his, it’d be hard to tell if he ever does contact someone outside the village. Land of Fire has plenty of foxes running around.”

Pushing away from his desk, Hiruzen approaches the windows that overlook the village. “Jiraiya and Minato trust him.”

“I don’t blame them. Raijin is likeable. He’s cheerful, smart, and passionate.” Shikaku shrugs, a humourless smile on his face. “That’s just the thing though: he seems too good to be true. Out of nowhere, we have this powerful shinobi who can become another figurehead for people to look to right as we hit a lull in the war, he’s literally built to fit in right among some of our most influential, and he has these ideals of peace like he walked right out of Senju Hashirama’s wet dreams or something. If he plays his cards right, he could do some real damage. I can’t look past that.”

Hiruzen hums. “And if it turns out he is, in fact, genuine but we act too harshly on our suspicions and isolate him, he will be too wary to be of service to the village.”

And wouldn’t that just be a fucking waste. Here is a literal golden boy delivered right to their fucking doorstep, and they could screw it all up and drive away a potential symbol in the making.

Shikaku has heard Raijin talk about his vision of the world; he has seen first-hand how the boy makes you want to believe in his words and his potential. If they could cultivate some sort of loyalty for Konoha in him, Raijin could be instrumental in maintaining inter- and intra-village relations in the future.

He isn’t stupid—Shikaku knows exactly what the Sandaime is gearing up to with how much attention and favour he bestows upon Namikaze. Minato probably suspects as well, and puts in the work with their forces now so they’ll want to follow him later when the time comes for him to take on the mantle as their commander.

With the kind of reputation Minato is cultivating for himself right now, it’d be easy to turn him into a beloved hero of the village for being instrumental in the war. He has the golden boy thing already going for him with an easy charm curated to perfectly compliment his strength and intelligence.

Raijin’s charisma, on the other hand, is a different sort of beast. His likability comes from being approachable and silly and down to earth. He feels like a friend where Minato feels like a role model. Establishing him as a pillar of support for Minato’s reputation would work so well, Shikaku kind of wants to march out and make Minato Yondaime right now just so he can see it happen in real time.

The idea of turning Raijin into a facet of Minato’s persona is tempting. Where Minato would give the people someone to look up to as young and infallible and just slightly beyond their as the representative genius of his generation, Raijin could become the one that keeps him human to the eye of the public. The one that people can reach for and touch and talk to. Normally, they would do this through the Hokage's spouse and children, but considering that Minato's significant other is Uzumaki Kushina, it's not going to be quite as effective. She's the jailor of the Nine Tails; no one is going to look past that and see her as anything other than a threat. It will just emphasis how dangerous Minato himself is to be able to consider Kushina his equal.

Play their cards right with Raijin, however, and they could have a duo as famous and magnetic as the Senju brothers had been. A symbol that pulls on nostalgia and the kind of awe that comes with admiring legends of past.

As hard as it is to believe, if Raijin really is honest, they can’t afford to fuck up that kind of potential. Besides, if they piss off his brother for baseless speculation, Namikaze will probably give them hell for it too.

That’d be a pain. Knowing Minato, he would immediately figure out that Shikaku had some hand in it and then extract his revenge meticulously.

The man clearly loves his brother for all that they’ve just found each other. Or, perhaps, it is because they’ve just found each other that Minato seems to be compensating for lost time.

Whatever the reason, the bottom line remains the same. They can’t rush into anything regarding Raijin—there's just too much they don't know. The kid could be completely honest and it'd be believable because, at the end of the day, he didn't bother approaching them first. He evaded Jiraiya for months and genuinely seemed to have no idea that he has family in Konoha. The only reason he entered their walls is because he saved a chuunin everyone else believed to be dead and because Jiraiya called on a favour to get Raijin to accompany him and the Uchiha kid all the way back. 

On the other hand, it's also possible that he knew exactly what he was doing all along and it's just a matter of time before they find themselves with a knife buried in their backs. It's even possible that Raijin is a spy without even meaning to be, having been trained for this and sent to them without his knowing by someone whose plans involve keeping him in the dark. 

With the way that boy dodges questions that start digging too deep like it's some sort of extreme sport, they won't know without outright interrogating him either. Honestly, Raijin performs evasion like it's an artform. It's kind of annoying.

“This will require discretion,” Hiruzen states, having come to the same conclusion. “I will not lose a shinobi of such calibre for a mistake.”

Shikaku can get behind that. “Will you put him back under ANBU surveillance?”

“It is likely our only option,” Hiruzen points out. “We’ll need their secrecy and skill. If he does turn out to be a threat, he will need to be dealt with at the earliest notice, and it has become startlingly clear that there are perhaps very few in our forces who pose much of a threat to Raijin.” Shaking his head, the man offers Shikaku a thin smile. “Anyway, thank you for your insight, Nara-dono.”

Shikaku dips his head, knowing a dismissal when he hears one. “Of course, Hokage-sama. I will take my leave now.”

He’s still thinking over everything he knows about Raijin when he walks out of Hokage Tower, chewing on the problem. The boy sure is an enigma for someone who talks as much as he does. It’s a puzzle to solve if nothing else.

It’d be useful to figure out exactly how Raijin thinks. He appears to be straightforward and open, but it has also become clear that Raijin exercises some admirable restraint over what he actually reveals about himself. That just means Shikaku needs to pick up pieces from what isn’t being said.

Perhaps a game of shogi is in order then.

“I wonder where he could be hiding now,” he mutters, spinning on his heel to hunt the blond own and wrangle a game out of him.

Raijin jolts in the middle of his spar with Minato and promptly gets smacked in the face for it.

“What was that?” his elder brother taunts, eyes alight with humour. “You totally zoned out for a second.”

Blinking, Raijin shakes his head. “I just got a really bad feeling out of nowhere.”

That brings Minato some pause. Concern flickers over his face and he straightens, their spar effectively coming to an end. “Are you okay? Maybe you’re falling sick. I heard there was some sort of flu spreading in Land of Iron. That’s where you were last, right?” He places a hand on Raijin’s forehead, feeling for his temperature. “You don’t feel too warm, at least.”

Patiently bearing the fussing, Raijin hums. “I’m not falling sick,” he tells Minato. “It was more like the feeling of being in trouble?”

“Oh.” Minato frowns, tilting his head. “Why would you be in trouble?”

Spirits, Raijin doesn’t even know where to start with that. So many reasons. All the reasons. Pissing people off and getting into trouble is basically his primary profession at this point.

“I think my time has finally come, nii-chan,” Raijin declares solemnly. "This might be goodbye."

Minato rolls his eyes. “Shut up. You’re not allowed to die.”

“Uhm, I’m pretty sure it doesn't work that way.”

“Of course, it does.” Minato frowns. “Listen to your nii-chan, Raijin.”

Raijin stares at him, deadpan. “No, really, I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“It does now. I’ve already said it.”

“Nii-chan, you’re kind of insane after all, huh?”

“Pot, kettle. Maybe it runs in the family.”

“Hey, don’t drag me into this!”

Chapter Text

Raijin is decidedly having not the best day.

With his rank as jounin finally processed officially, the Hokage had been free to release the truth behind the events of Obito’s rescue and it had been revealed to all of the world that it had been Raijin who slayed Uchiha Madara himself. Essentially, he’d been thrown to the dogs for the picking since everyone and their grandmother seemed to want to jump him for an ‘inside scoop’ on what it was like to kill the first missing nin.

That damn old man Hokage is seriously starting to piss Raijin off into straight up having borderline treasonous thoughts.

This had been followed up by the Uchiha clan sending him an official invitation to their compound for a formal dinner to thank him for his services in eliminating their most prolific traitor. Apparently those sharingan-eyed bastards can make decisions at the speed of light considering how they’d hopped to it as soon as the information went from being confidential to public.

Then he’d gotten hopelessly lost at some point while trying to escape a gaggle of very persistent kunoichi who apparently found him and his ‘heroic actions’ very attractive and were just dying to prove this to him. For the most part, Raijin can get by since Konoha’s general layout didn’t change too much, but a lot of the inner streets and alleys confuse him because he’s used to them a different way in a post-Kyuubi attack Konohagakure.

He'd been confused enough about where the fuck he’d managed to wander off to that he just gave up and ended up having to ask the ANBU tailing him to point him in the right direction. Up until that point, Raijin had been very polite about playing dumb and acting like he had absolutely no idea his masked stalkers were even there, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all.

Deer had been just as confused as Raijin about the whole ordeal, but he’d been very nice and kindly set him back on the right path to his apartment.

Which is where he promptly got accosted and abducted by one Nara Shikaku because apparently he’d committed some grave transgression against the man in a past life, and now Shikaku was here to extract revenge by absolutely destroying Raijin in a series of games of shogi.

After the fifth consecutive loss, he’d just offered to apologise for whatever he did but Shikaku had only looked at him with clear amusement and handily presented him with his sixth defeat.

Man, Raijin had thought that Shikamaru was brutal on that fucking board but Shikaku is in a different league of mean altogether. It’s not like Raijin is a bad player. He knows he’s creative and slippery—a style he’d been forced to develop because the only people he really played shogi with had been Shikamaru and Kakashi, who were both way smarter and strategy oriented than him. To the genius types, it’s probably like going from kicking pebbles on a road to a can; Raijin rattles so he’s more entertaining.

“Where did you learn to play, Raijin-kun?” Shikaku asks conversationally, completely at ease.

Meanwhile, Raijin is literally sweating bullets as he tries to protect his King with one rook, gold general and silver general. Shikaku is wielding every other piece on the board, including the ones he’d stolen from Raijin. Ugh, he’s going to go stick his head in some dirt after this and never resurface.

“From a friend when we were still in school,” he answers, scowling at the board. “I managed to beat him exactly once and that was only because he straight up fell asleep halfway through.”

Shikaku snorts. He advances for Raijin’s rook, barely even glancing at the board to make his move. “You didn’t learn from your sensei?”

“Hah,” Raijin scoffs. He captures one of Shikaku’s silver generals and nearly sobs at how nice it feels to have more than four pieces. “That old pervert only swept in to kick my ass once he knew I was decent enough to provide him with some amusement when things were slow.”

“Well, your plays are rather amusing.” Shikaku smirks and takes Raijin’s rook, effectively putting his King in check.

Seriously contemplating the benefits of straight up throwing his remaining pieces at Shikaku’s head, Raijin narrows his eyes and stares at the game. He’s going to lose in five more moves. “Nope,” he announces. “I’m resigning.”

Shikaku nods, and starts to methodically separate the pieces and clear the board. “You should have done that eight moves ago,” he informs helpfully.

Blood pressure instantly skyrocketing, Raijin gapes at the older man. “Wow, dude, you’re a real fucking asshole.”

That startles a laugh out of Shikaku. “Not many people have said that straight to my face before.”

“But some definitely have,” Raijin infers, nodding in commiseration. “You did basically just spend the past three hours bullying an innocent teenager for literally no reason.”

The smile on Shikaku’s face is sharp. “Don’t sell yourself so short, Raijin-kun,” he says. “You make for a very interesting opponent.”

And nope. He knows what that look means: it spells nothing but trouble. “I don’t like that at all,” Raijin informs Shikaku sincerely. “I’m going to run away and it’s going to be your fault.”

Barking out another laugh, Shikaku grins at him wickedly. “You’ve certainly lost some of that irritating filter of yours.”

Raijin blinks at the man incredulously. “First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I’ve never been accused of having a filter before. Most people actually recommend I go find one, so maybe you’re the weird one, Shikaku-san. Secondly, I literally just spent three hours having my brain collapse in on itself like a dying star—excuse me for not wanting to use it anymore. Or, like, ever again.”

“You do talk more than any one person should be allowed to,” Shikaku concedes, “but you don’t actually ever say much about yourself, Raijin-kun.” Dark eyes narrow, pinning Raijin in place. “And you do it on purpose too.”

Yeah, because he literally shouldn’t exist in this timeline. That kind of throws the mother of all wrenches in any plans people have of getting to know him. No one even knows his real name.

Raijin wisely refrains from saying any of this, clicking his mouth shut for good measure. His brain genuinely is too fucked for him to be playing mind games with a Nara. It’s better to just not open it at all in case it runs off on its own.

After all, it has been known to happen before.

“Do you want to know what I’ve learned from your shogi, Raijin-kun?” Shikaku asks. Since Raijin is currently undertaking a spontaneous vow of silence to protest violence in the world at large, Shikaku just continues. “You’re very good at facades and you’re not nearly as impulsive as you make yourself out to be. You’re used to hiding your true intentions behind false starts while you lay your traps just out of notice. You’re used to keeping just out of reach and prolonging the chase though you know you're going to lose. You’re used to trying to hold out even when the end is clear.”

Shikaku regards him thoughtfully, head tilted and mouth pressed into a thin line. Raijin blinks blankly at him.

“Shogi is a battle of generals,” the man continues, “but the idea is to still approach it as a playmaker. As a strategist.” Raijin’s eyes narrow ever so slightly. “You play like you’re the gold general himself. Like you’re actually fighting the battle. Like a soldier. You don’t like sacrificing pieces even for a play and you keep trying to look for ways through even when you know you’re better off resigning.” Shikaku offers him a bland smile. “It’s very interesting.”

Raijin swallows. “Maybe I just suck at the game,” he suggests.

“Maybe,” Shikaku shrugs, “but we both know that isn’t true. You’re not half as stupid as you’d have others believe, Raijin-kun.”

What feels like a lifetime ago, Shikamaru had said something similar to Raijin. “You’re not half as stupid as people want you to be, Naruto, so stop acting like it.” Wow, he really misses his friend.

“Shikaku-san,” Raijin declares slowly, decisively, “I am going to break into your house, put bugs in your pillow and replace your toothpaste with shoe polish.”

Because he’s an absolute bastard, Shikaku only grins at Raijin, languid and smug. Raijin decides he’s also going to shave off this man’s eyebrows for good measure.

Once he’s back home, Raijin spends a good chunk of his evening formulating a plan of action against all the hair on Shikaku’s head in general instead of finishing his mission reports like he’s supposed to. He’s just trying to figure out the semantics of breaking into the compound through the Nara forest when frantic knocking on his door interrupts his train of thought.

Raijin turns to stare at the door with narrowed eyes, contemplating if he should even bother opening it. With how the rest of his day has gone so far, it might just be Orochimaru come calling.

And then the knocking turns into straight up banging.

“Raijin-san? Please tell me you're home.”

Blinking, Raijin is moving to open the door before he can even think twice about it because Obito is on the other side and the boy sounds an awful lot like he might be crying. And he’s right. Obito is crying when Raijin comes face to face with him. Full on red-faced-and-heaving-for-breath kind of crying. Like, on-the-verge-of-a-panic-attack kind of crying.

Raijin’s eyes widen. “Obito-kun, what’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Obito only manages a shake of his head before he’s throwing himself at Raijin with a bitten off wail, burying his face in the older man’s chest and clinging like he’s going to drift away if he doesn’t hold on for all he’s worth.

‘Oh,’ Raijin thinks, gently shutting the door behind Obito and easing them to the floor of the genkan. ‘I suppose this is overdue.’

He’d been wondering just when it would hit Obito that he nearly died in those caverns, came so close to having his entire life stolen from him for the sake of one old man’s dreams of a perfect utopia, and instead found himself returned to his village like nothing ever happened, in a body modified permanently against his will, and with an ability and pressure he didn't ask for. It seems like the answer is now.

Admittedly, he’s surprised that Obito came to find Raijin at all. He’d expected it would be Minato or Kakashi or Rin. People Obito had known most of his life and cherished as his precious ones. People he’d wanted to come back home to.

All the same, since it’s him in this position, the least Raijin can do is hold the boy and weather the storm with him.

Gently, Raijin settles himself his back against the wall and pulls Obito onto his lap, letting the boy wrap his arms around his waist and twist his fingers into Raijin’s t-shirt. He holds Obito just as tightly, pressing the boy close and curling around him so as to surround him in his own presence, pulling his chakra in and around them like a weighted blanket, trying to convey safety and reassurance in every way he can think of.

Raijin hasn’t ever been comforted like this, but he knows the words he’d wished someone had said to him when he needed to hear them, knows the way he’d have liked to be held when he’d been all alone in an apartment too empty for just one kid. He holds Obito now like the boy probably hasn’t been held in far too long. Close and precious; pressing him to his heart and carding fingers through dark curls as he gently rocks them side to side.

“You’re safe now, Obito-kun,” he promises softly. “You’re safe and you’re home and it will all be okay now. You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you. I’m right here. You’re not alone and you’re going to be okay. I promise you.”

Obito shakes his head. “I’m not,” he sobs. “I’m not okay. I don’t know how to be okay. I don’t know anything.”

“That’s alright,” Raijin soothes, resting his cheek on the top of Obito’s head. “It’s okay if you don’t know, Obito-kun. You can take your time to figure things out. We’ll be right there with you. We’ll help you until you do feel okay again. You’re not alone, Obito. Your team loves and cares for you. I care for you. It’s going to be okay. You’re safe now.”

Obito doesn’t say anything to that. He shivers in Raijin’s hold, breath hitching, and burrows even closer. Raijin lets him, pushing comfort-safety-love-love-love into his chakra and wrapping it around Obito’s trembling summer-spark-citrus-copper.

He doesn’t really know the best way to go about comforting a traumatised teenager but he’s sure as hell going to his damn best. Obito needs that from him right now and Raijin doesn’t want to fail him.

He presses his lips to the crown of the boy’s head and settles in for a long night.

It is Minato who eventually comes to find them four hours later, having gone into something of a frenzy when Kakashi came to him half-crazed because he couldn’t find Obito.

The boy hadn’t been at any of his usual haunts and Minato had been about fifteen seconds away from launching a search party himself, convinced of the worst, when he’d finally managed to sense Obito’s chakra flickering peacefully in Raijin’s apartment. Practically falling off the roof from the force his relief, he had immediately headed off in the direction of his brother’s home, reaching with his chakra to seek Obito’s out and reassure himself that his student hadn’t in fact been taken away from him again.

He's on Raijin’s balcony within heartbeats, rapping his knuckles against the glass door. Inside the dark apartment, he feels Raijin’s chakra ping to awareness and Minato winces slightly, a little guilty for having woken his little brother up. He supposes he could have just gone back now that he has confirmed that Obito is safe and sound, but—

But Minato needs to see him. He needs to be able to physically see Obito and make sure the boy is alive and well for himself. His nerves won’t settle with anything less.

A sleepy-eyed Raijin approaches the balcony, scrubbing at his messier-than-usual hair and yawning. He blinks slowly upon finding Minato on the other side of the door but wordlessly deactivates his security barrier seal and slides the door open to let his brother in.

“Are you here for Obito-kun?” he asks Minato, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes while Minato takes his sandals off before entering.

Minato softens, smiling slightly. He reaches tentatively for Raijin’s chakra, some of the tension easing out of his frame when Raijin readily reaches back, curling his chakra around Minato’s without a second thought. Minato allows himself a second to bask in the warmth that is so characteristic of Raijin’s chakra—like an endless summer afternoon by the sea—before reluctantly pulling away.

“Can I see him?” he asks, keeping his voice soft despite the urgency in his tone.

Raijin tilts his head. “Of course.” He waves for Minato to follow him out of the bedroom and into the living room. “He showed up at my door around six. I think he’s finally processing everything.”

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Minato nods. “I should have seen this coming,” he mutters to himself.

“He knocked himself out a few hours ago,” Raijin informs. “On the couch,” he adds over his shoulder as he makes a beeline for the kitchen. Minato hears the creak of a cabinet door opening followed by the rushing of water in the sink. “Do you want something to drink, nii-chan?”

“Just some water please,” Minato calls back, suddenly aware of just how dry his throat his.

When he finally catches sight of Obito curled up on Raijin’s sofa, tucked away amidst Raijin’s extensive collection of mismatched blankets and pillows, Minato finally relaxes completely. There is still a bit of salt crusted on Obito’s cheek from dried tears, but his face is otherwise at peace. Like this, he looks even smaller than he is.

Approaching on silent feet, Raijin hands him a mug of water with a wane smile. “You look like you’ve been through it.”

Minato huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “I may have lost my cool there,” he admits. The water is cool as he swallows it down.

“I can imagine.” Raijin scratches at the whiskers on his cheek, looking sheepish. “I would have sent you one of my foxes if I’d known you would freak out. Sorry about that.”

And, well, he can’t have that. Minato bumps Raijin’s shoulder with his own. “Not your fault,” he says simply. “I’m just relieved to see him safe.”

Lips pursing, Raijin eyes him. “You—Are you, like, upset? That he came here instead of to you?”

Minato blinks. “What?” he says. “No, of course not, Raijin. I mean, I hope Obito knows that he could have come to me but I understand why he might have chosen to come to you. You saved his life after all.” He shakes his head. “I’m just glad he didn’t try to get through it by himself.”

Tension that Minato hadn’t even realised had been there bleeds out of Raijin’s shoulders. In the quiet apartment, barefooted and in wrinkled pyjamas, suddenly Raijin too looks a lot smaller than he is. It occurs to Minato that his brother is only five years older than Obito.

Minato isn’t stupid. He knows that Raijin has been through a lot even if he stubbornly never mentions it. There had been friends and teachers once before the boy came to Minato. Faces to accompany the names Raijin mentions sometimes when caught in a soft moment of melancholy. Obviously something must have happened to so thoroughly wipe out Raijin’s entire circle of loved ones; something that he alone has survived.

Sage only knows how many times Minato has nearly lost his brother before he ever even knew of him. Had Raijin ever been like Obito—stuck alone in a situation with no one even aware that he needed help? Had he just had to save himself? How many times had he needed MInato to be there before they'd even known they had each other?

The thought of it makes something thick and painful crawl down Minato’s throat and take root there, aching in his chest.

“I’m glad Obito has you, Raijin,” he tells his brother earnestly, reaching out to brush the hair away from his eyes, settling his palm against Raijin’s cheek. He is deliberately careful, always. With Raijin, Minato always thinks twice and does his best to offer only his gentlest side. To be soft, slow and mindful. A perfectionist till the end. “And I’m glad you have him too. I couldn’t ever mind that even if I wanted to.”

Raijin’s eyes are wide as he tracks Minato’s every move.  

“I want you to have people who love and cherish you, Raijin. I want you to be able to look back and always have someone to reach for and rely on,” Minato continues. “And I hope you know that I will always be one of those people. You aren’t alone anymore, Raijin. I, for one, am very glad for that.”

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so surprised, but Minato is nonetheless startled when he suddenly finds himself with an armful of teenage shinobi. Abruptly, he realises that he has never hugged Raijin before. There have been plenty of pats on shoulders and ruffling of hair, but this is the first time he has ever actually held his baby brother.

Face pressed against Minato’s shoulder, Raijin whispers, “Thanks, nii-chan.”

Circling his arms around Raijin’s smaller frame, Minato presses his cheek against soft golden hair that is the same as his own. “Of course, Raijin.”

Raijin may have had to go through everything on his own up till now, but Minato is here now, and he’s going to make sure his little brother never has to go through anything by himself ever again.

Raijin isn’t proud of it, but admittedly, he’d straight up forgotten to tell Jiraiya that the Ame Orphans are actually alive and well.

The man had sought him out personally after hearing from Kushina that Raijin knows of an Uzumaki boy in Amegakure who is apparently a leader of Akatsuki. Raijin had physically cringed as it hit him that he should have probably mentioned something about that sooner.

He’s still kind of stewing in guilt over it even as he and Minato wave Jiraiya off on his trip to Ame to reconnect with the students he had believed to be dead up until Raijin had informed that the trio is very much alive and well.

“You know,” Minato comments thoughtfully, watching Jiraiya’s figure get smaller and smaller on the horizon, “it’s strange how you seem to be at the centre of so many things, Raijin.”

Raijin, who has in fact artificially crafted most of the scenarios Minato is referring to, shifts on his feet and smiles thinly. “You think so?” he says. “Sakura-chan used to say it’s because I’m really fucking nosy.”

Minato chuckles, his smile making his nose scrunch up slightly. “Well, regardless of the reason, I suppose it makes us rather lucky that you found your way to us when you did.”

He doesn’t know how right he is, and Raijin doesn’t tell him.

Contemplative, he watches Jiraiya head off to finish the final step in ensuring Akatsuki has no reason to ever turn evil before turning away.

There’s still work to be done after all. He can’t afford to let something slip again.

“Hey, nii-chan,” he starts, “do you know where I could get my hands on some formal wear on short notice?”

Minato tilts his head. “I’m sure we can find something. If not, you can just borrow something from me. What’s the occasion?”

Raijin grins at him. “I have a dinner to attend.”

It’s time to start solving The Uchiha Problem (trademark pending).

Chapter Text

Raijin poses an interesting figure in Konoha’s rapidly changing political field.

With the current war, plenty of new names have shot to particular relevancy for their service and contributions. Moreover, it is understood by most that, as soon as the end of the third shinobi war is in sight, several changes in the hands of power will be taking place.

Most of the current generation of clan heads only came into leadership a year or two ago. The Jounin Commander will soon be retiring and appointing Nara Shikaku as his successor. The Sandaime himself will most likely be retiring as soon as the war ends—either with a claim to atone for his mistakes in this war, or to finish on a high note.

It is also understood that his successor is probably going to be Namikaze Minato.

Fugaku doesn’t necessarily like it. He knows his own contributions to the war have been nothing to sneeze at and it rankles that his name is never mentioned in consideration for the hat when he too is powerful and influential. He can admit that Namikaze isn’t undeserving in the least, but it still leaves a bad taste in his mouth when he and his clan are pushed further and further from relevancy with every passing day.

This is why Fugaku is quick to recognise the opportunity that Raijin provides.

It is obvious the boy is strong, much like his brother. His jounin exam had sufficed in bringing people’s attention to his array of well-developed skills, boasting a total lack of defeat even when faced against high-ranking shinobi who are considered in-village experts of their own fields. His mission record had then gone on to create the picture of a young man with a strong work ethic and a talent for leadership, only supplementing the reputation of the Kogane no Arashi who had received personal recognition from Hanzo of the Salamander.

And then it had been publicly revealed that Raijin had killed Uchiha Madara himself and saved Uchiha Obito from the notorious rogue nin’s clutches.

Fugaku had been informed the boy had needed to be rescued from captivity following a near-death experience, but the Hokage had told him that the exact circumstances surrounding Obito’s rescue were still being further investigated.

Turns out it was because Uchiha Madara had been involved, having somehow managed to survive his legendary final confrontation with Senju Hashirama. According to the statement released to the public, the man had lived in hiding for all these years with the help of an external chakra source and had been brewing up a plan to somehow cast a genjutsu over the world at large, needing a young Uchiha shinobi’s help to bring his plans to fruition.

Needless to say, Raijin had become something of a celebrity overnight with the credit of killing Madara going to him despite Jiraiya of the Sannin’s involvement.

With such a prolific victory under his belt and with Minato being a well-known Hokage candidate, suddenly, everyone had their eye on the brothers. The question that all the shinobi clans wanted to ask: would they be receiving a new addition to the clan council?

It hadn’t been in question when it had been just Minato. After all, there can be no clan of one. Even if Minato married Uzumaki Kushina, they could not be considered one since the jinchuuriki's status is held apart. For his contributions, it had been assumed that Minato would receive a medal, some land and money, and the Sandaimes’ backing.

Now, however, there are two of them. Suddenly, it is the name ‘Namikaze’ that is starting to hold weight rather than just ‘Namikaze Minato’. As soon as the younger brother starts using the last name in official capacity, it will be seen as all but a done deal.

There isn’t much precedent for it, admittedly. The situation fulfils some very specific requirements after all. More than one overwhelming talent from the same civilian family and the performance of feats of village-wide importance: Minato and his steady progress through Iwagakure's frontlines, and now Raijin killing Konoha’s most prolific traitor and displaying nothing but promise that he will be following in his brother’s footsteps once he too receives his first deployment.

It would make sense if the Hokage chooses to reward them at the end of this war with shinobi clan status.

If Minato were to then take on the hat, he would already have a seat on the council to back his decisions, likely manned by his brother as a regent since the Hokage cannot act in the interest of any one clan. That would mean that he’d have the Sarutobi on his side thanks to Hiruzen, his own clan, the civilian representatives, and if Fugaku is predicting things correctly, then the Ino-Shika-Cho trio as well.

Already that is close to half the council, not accounting for Minato’s natural charisma as a leader.

Fugaku cannot afford to stay standing still. The tide is changing and there is an opportunity to be had here.

It had been far too late for the Uchiha under the Sandaime even before any of them had begun to realise what was happening to their clan. Sarutobi may not be outright cruel, but he has still lent far too much of an ear to a bigoted bastard like Shimura Danzo. As long as he remains in power, Fugaku sees no way of convincing the village to lend a hand in bringing the Uchiha back into the fold, and there is no true way for the clan to achieve it by themselves either.

But Minato could mean a fresh start for them. If Fugaku can manage to cultivate a favourable relationship there, Minato would make an excellent ally to have on his side.

And the key to doing that lies with Namikaze Raijin. Where there is no way of contacting Minato organically without making it too obviously a political play and drawing unwanted attention prematurely, it makes perfect sense for the clan to reach out to the younger of the two.

If they can establish Raijin as their in with Minato, the Uchiha could still claw their back to being at the heart of their village.

It is imperative that this dinner is successful so the Uchiha main family can form the beginnings of some sort of friendship with the Namikaze brothers.

Fugaku is prepared to overlook a lot in the name of this evening going well. He is aware that the Uchiha are considered rather…traditional, and that Raijin grew up as an orphan who logically couldn’t have had anyone to teach him how to navigate the propriety and formality of such occasions.

Needless to say, he is pleasantly surprised when Raijin proves him wrong.

“Uchiha-dono, thank you for inviting me to your home,” the boy greets as soon as Mikoto has led him to the formal reception room, dipping into a proper bow. “It is my honour to meet you.”

Up until now, all accounts of Raijin have painted the picture of a rambunctious young man. Even before his integration into the village, he had been notorious for a bad habit of running his mouth.

Looking at him now, it’d be near impossible to see where those rumours might have come from. Reluctantly, Fugaku is amused. It seems the boy has a modicum of awareness at the very least.

“We are honoured to host you, Namikaze-kun,” he returns, dipping his head.

Raijin straightens and waves his hand. “Please, you don’t have to be so formal with me. You can just call me Raijin.”

“Raijin-kun then,” Fugaku acquiesces. “You may call me Fugaku.” He is not one for such familiarity usually, but it is good to be as welcoming as possible when one is hoping to make an ally. “Dinner will be served in an hour. Would you like to have some tea until then?”

Folding himself into the cushion opposite Fugaku’s, Raijin murmurs a quiet thank you and takes the offered cup. “You have a lovely home by the way.”

Fugaku inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Mikoto works very hard to maintain it. It is her ancestral home after all,” he comments. “You have been here before, yes?”

“Once,” Raijin confirms, nodding. “I was with Itachi-kun.”

“Yes, he told us how you helped him. Thank you for that.” Fugaku takes a sip of his tea, savouring the pleasantly earthy bitterness of the brew. “Itachi has been looking forward to seeing you again.”

At that, Raijin’s eyebrows shoot up. His lips pull into a grin that softens everything about his face, his countenance lighting up. “Really?” he asks, sounding pleasantly surprised. “Itachi-kun seemed like such a sweet kid. I’m flattered he even remembers me, to be honest.”

Fugaku blinks. “You left quite an impression on my son, Raijin-kun,” he states, matter of fact. “Itachi is still rather shy and he doesn’t usually do well with strangers, but he seemed rather taken with you.”

“Woah.” Raijin looks taken aback. “I wasn’t expecting that. I didn’t even do anything that special.”

Humming, Fugaku eyes the young man across him over the rim of his cup. “They do say children tend to be good judges of character.”

Raijin laughs. “I thought that was a myth.”

Fugaku’s lips quirk upwards. “Partly,” he admits, “although it is true that children do gravitate towards people whose chakra feels ‘safe’ for lack of a better word. Itachi had been particularly sensitive to it as a babe; I expect the tendency has yet to leave him entirely.”

Itachi hasn’t really displayed any other signs of being a sensor type, so it is likely he is simply sensitive. Mikoto had quietly informed him that it might be a main line trait. Generations of powerful sharingan have also meant that premature blindness has been rampant in the family for centuries due to the strain on the eyes, so it isn’t impossible that they have developed to be able to combat the potential loss of vision by being more naturally sensitive to surrounding chakra.

Raijin looks intrigued. “I didn’t know that,” he says. “I’ve heard you do lose chakra sensitivity with age and that’s why we have to learn to actively seek it out, but I didn’t know all kids just do it instinctively. I guess it’s a survival mechanism, huh?”

“Indeed.” Fugaku nods. “Since they are unable to defend themselves, it is good to have some natural understanding of who they recognise as familiar or safe. That is partly why shinobi use their own chakra to soothe children.”

Humming, the boy nods. “I suppose that means Itachi-kun didn’t like being handed off to other people as a baby.”

“It certainly hadn’t been easy,” Fugaku remarks dryly, his eye twitching involuntarily at the memory of all the sleep he and Mikoto had lost purely because Itachi hadn’t been able to stand being away from them and their chakra. “The only exception had been Itachi’s cousin.”

“Oh?”

“Shisui-kun,” Fugaku elaborates. “He is four years older than Itachi. They’ve been joined at the hip since day one.”

Raijin’s lips twitch up into a smile. “That’s cute,” he comments, sipping at his tea. “He’s so mild-mannered now, it’s hard to imagine Itachi-kun as a difficult baby.”

Fugaku traces the rim of his cup, smiling down at it. It really does feel like only yesterday Itachi had been small enough to hold in his hands, refusing to let himself be put down and demanding all of Fugaku’s time and attention. “Yes,” he murmurs, “I suppose that’s just how children are. They grow up in the blink of an eye; always changing and evolving.”

“I think that’s just how people are in general,” Raijin says. “Of course, the older you grow, the slower you change, but I don’t think we ever truly stop growing and evolving.” He shrugs. “It’s essentially a law of nature, yeah? Things that don’t learn to evolve die out. I don’t think people are any exceptions to that.”

Fugaku raised an eyebrow. How philosophical. “Well said, Raijin-kun. You are right; change is inevitable. It is what makes it so scary.”

“You think so?”

“Indeed.” Fugaku would know, after all. He’s constantly caught in a situation where some form of change is the only answer and yet nothing is willing to give into that evolution. He doesn’t want to think about what might happen if they don’t learn to change in time. Things that don’t learn to evolve die out, Raijin had said. Fugaku swallows the rest of his tea to wash away the bad taste in his mouth. “There’s a reason so many people dislike change, Raijin-kun. It is because they cannot imagine what they might become.”

“And we’re basically hardwired to dislike the unknown,” Raijin finishes. He sighs and shakes his head.

Fugaku refills both their cups. “Moreover, people do not like that which is inevitable,” he continues. “It reminds us that sometimes, no matter what we do, we are powerless.”

Fingers tightening around his cup, Raijin smiles wryly at the rippling surface of his tea. “Oh, I know all about that, Fugaku-sama.”

Strange. Fugaku wonders what he means. It feels like he might overstep if he asks.

Instead, he decides a change in topic is in order. “I hear you are well-travelled, Raijin-kun?”

Blinking at the sudden shift, Raijin nods slowly. “Yeah. I’ve kind of been all over the place.”

“How did you get into that lifestyle?”

Raijin tilts his head, making a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. “I did an apprenticeship,” he says, “and my master was a nomad. Couldn’t stay in one place for the life of him. I tried to stay put for a while after I’d stopped learning under him, but then my home got caught up in the war and I had go back to being on the move.”

Fugaku frowns. “Moving around so much can’t have been easy with the wars either, though. Even civilians end up having to restrict their travel to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.”

“It’s not that difficult if you know which routes are typically favoured by shinobi and just avoid those,” Raijin says, shrugging noncommittally. “The borders can get tricky and the well-known shinobi trade routes are obviously no go, but life hasn’t exactly stopped for people outside the five great shinobi villages. Plenty of civilians don’t even realise there’s a war going on at all. Most travel services just rework their routes and life carries on even if things are admittedly more dangerous right now.”

“Is that so?” Fugaku asks. Their own lives have been so affected by the second and third wars that it’s practically impossible to imagine there are people out there who have been able to remain ignorant.

“Oh, yeah. I was in the capital not too long ago, you know, and the difference from here is insane. They’re just going about totally unaffected. Meanwhile, you guys have been living in a state of emergency for nearly two decades now. Civilian trade kind of blew up in the past fifteen years with a lot of contact happening beyond the continent, but none of those effects have made it to Konoha itself because you’ve needed to keep your borders closed.”

It’s so easy for shinobi to write civilians off because they are viewed as weak by their standards. Fugaku often forgets that their measures for success and development are completely different, or that Konoha actually relies on them quite a bit to function economically.

The only reason the system of the shinobi villages has been allowed to function at all under the Daimyo’s governance is because the villages wouldn’t be able to survive without the Daimyo just as the Daimyo require the villages. The village needs the daimyo to financially back them and for them to allow civilian trade and clientele to flow through the village. Meanwhile, the village itself will perform in the capacity of the Daimyo’s army should he so need it.

It’s a humbling thought. They can get so caught up in their own posturing and the politics of solely the shinobi world, it is easy to overlook that they are only one facet of the continent’s overall functioning.

“Technology has really taken off in the past twenty years,” Raijin informs. “Some of the things civilians have managed to come up with are actually wild. I wonder what they could come up with if they knew how to harness their chakra better.”

“Typically those sort of developments would come out of the villages’ R&D departments,” Fugaku remarks. “Of course, most of the things being currently researched by way of utilising chakra in technology are to aid efforts in the war.”

Raijin sighs. “Ending the war is just step one to moving on,” he says, shoulders drooping slightly. “You have to worry about patching up all the damage, and then you can finally begin playing catch up with the rest of the world.”

Fugaku eyes the boy. “You expect it to be difficult?”

Smiling wryly, Raijin traces the lines of the cup in his hand. “Shinobi do tend to be stubborn,” he says dryly. “But, like I said, there isn’t really all that much of a choice when it comes to change. You learn to bend, or you break. The rest of the world isn’t going to just wait around.”

“That is true,” Fugaku mutters thoughtfully. “But, I suppose, it truly depends on where you draw the line when it comes to change.”

Raijin inclines his head. “What do you mean?”

“As in, what amount is change is acceptable before you begin to lose what is at your essence?”

“Ah,” Raijin nods in understanding, “you mean change and the loss of identity?”

Fugaku hums. Quietly, he says, “Tradition is important, Raijin-kun. It informs us of who we are and who we used to be. Where we come from makes us who we are. It makes us what we will someday become.”

“I don’t disagree with that,” Raijin concedes, inclining his head with a smile. “I do think it is important to keep tradition alive. Like you said: it informs who we are by reminding us of we used to be, and it is important to honour those who came before us because we would not be here without them.” The boy shrugs, finger tapping against his cup. “I just don’t think of change and tradition as opposites.”

“No?”

“Fundamentally, I think, they are both about preserving something.” Raijin lifts his hands to illustrate. “Tradition is obviously about preserving our past. I believe that change is about adjusting in such a way that we are best able to preserve our present. Does that make sense?”

Adapt to best survive for the future. Fugaku closes his eyes and makes a noise of consideration. “I suppose so.”

“So you were right, Fugaku-sama: it does depend on where we draw the line. At what point does the preservation of tradition become a stubborn refusal to let go of the past? At what point does an endless pursuit of change become disregarding history and reducing present identity?” Raijin smiles. “Like all things, it simply comes down to balance.”

Fugaku sips at his tea. It has gone cold. “Indeed, it does. A very nuanced view, Raijin-kun.”

“You think so?” The blond looks amused. “I don’t think it has to be that hard. We make these choices everyday. Some traditions survive because we are incapable of discarding them without discarding some part of ourselves. Others are forgotten because they start becoming meaningless in a world that has evolved past them. Sometimes, tradition is about legacy. It’s about things bigger than us, things entrusted to us, things that will outlive us. Sometimes, it is about mistakes; lessons learnt and things that are meant to be left behind because we know better.”

Fingers curling into a loose fist, Fugaku eyes the boy sitting opposite him. “You are saying that tradition can lead to living in the past fruitlessly if one is too obsessed with it.”

Raijin nods. “And that change can mean being too obsessed with a future you have no real way of predicting. Life is all about balance. The present is equally as important as the legacies we receive and those that we will leave behind. What works best right now? And it might not hold up tomorrow but that’s just your next step forward then, isn’t it?”

What a strange young man. Fugaku is quiet for a long moment as he thinks this over, watching Raijin. For his part, Raijin looks utterly relaxed. He shifts every so often in such a way that suggests he is unused to sitting in seiza, but the line of his shoulders is at ease, as is the pleasant expression on his face.

Before either of them can continue, Mikoto pops into the room. “Dinner is ready. Itachi has already finished setting the table. Come quickly before it goes cold.”

Fugaku nods at her, carefully keeping his eyebrows from rising. Time passed by much faster than he expected it to. “Come, Raijin-kun. I will lead the way. I hope you are hungry.”

Rising to his feet, Raijin flashes him a grin and laughs. “Always, Fugaku-sama.”

Fugaku returns the smile and beckons for the boy to follow him. Getting through this dinner doesn’t seem so hard at all anymore.

Mikoto is, admittedly, a little surprised by Raijin as dinner progresses. Pleasantly so, in fact.

Both she and Fugaku had discussed their plans for this dinner the night before, and they’d agreed that they would do their best to accommodate Raijin and any ignorance he displayed since it wouldn’t be his fault if he didn’t know how to respond to their more formal customs and political manoeuvring.

As she listens to him converse with Fugaku, however, it is obvious to her that she and her husband had severely underestimated him for his age and upbringing. They had forgotten that the boy is still a shinobi, and a good one at that.

For all that Raijin makes himself out to be easy-going and loud, he is rather well-informed and incisive. And they should have expected as much really. Rumour has it that he was an information brokering mercenary before he joined Konoha. That means he had to have been good at staying aware of everyone’s intentions at all times while keeping his own cards close to his chest. She rather suspects that he knows exactly what they were hoping to get out of inviting him tonight. The question that remains now is what Raijin intends to do about the Uchiha wanting him as an ally in Konoha’s political landscape.

“I don’t think Suna will be making any big moves in this war to be honest,” he remarks, eyes slightly narrowed in thought.

Fugaku raises an eyebrow. “Really? I think all the other countries have been under the assumption that the Kazekage has just been biding his time to pull off something big. Konoha, at least, has been continuing to function with that in mind.”

Raijin shakes his head. “I get why you might think that, but I don’t think anyone realises one very simple fact: Suna is seriously broke. From my understanding, the Wind Daimyo doesn’t bother funding them too much because the Land of Wind is so naturally defensible thanks to the desert that no direct attack on them has ever succeeded before. That, coupled with the fact that Suna got charged with the blame and war reparations for the second war just means that they literally can’t afford to do more than defend themselves this time round. I wouldn’t hold my breath on them changing that either. Their resources need to be diverted in just making sure they can maintain their trade so their people don’t starve while they try to repay their debts.”

Indeed, Raijin grew up travelling over the continent and it shows. He knows more about every country than the average shinobi growing up in any one village does, almost as if he lived among the people himself.

This is information that their spies might be privy to but unable to get to them because of how tightly Suna regulates its borders and communications, and here Raijin is—completely in the know and unaware of how valuable that quality is to Konoha.

From the light in his eye and the slant to his mouth, Fugaku is thinking the same. They could perhaps advise Raijin, help him gain a standing among the upper jounin ranks who’d value his intel, and cultivate goodwill with him following that channel.

The boy might see right through them, but it’s also likely that he won’t refuse the help. It would be mutually advantageous after all.

“I think Suna will bide its time so they can turn around and point fingers at Iwa this time around,” Raijin continues, musing out loud. “This is all speculation, of course, but regardless of who wins, I think Iwagakure will be blamed and saddled with reparations. It would lessen some of Suna’s debt that way too.”

How pragmatic. Mikoto can appreciate that.

Raijin goes to serve himself another helping of rice when his gaze lands on Itachi who has been making his way through his meal in polite silence while the adults converse.

“Oh,” Raijin says, and Mikoto can practically see him fall back into his easy and welcoming persona as his face softens into a smile, “we must totally be boring you, huh, Itachi-kun?”

Blinking under the sudden attention, Itachi’s cheeks pinken ever so slightly. He shakes his head. “No, not at all, Raijin-san.”

Raijin laughs. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be nice about it, Itachi-kun. If I’d been in your place, even as a fifteen-year-old, I would have probably thrown a hissy fit or straight up fallen asleep.”

Eyebrow rising, Mikoto’s lips twitch. “You didn’t care much for such topics at the time, Raijin-kun?”

He snorts. “I didn’t care at all, and I made that everyone’s problem.”

Itachi smiles slightly, blinking up at the blond. “I don’t mind it, really.”

When Raijin smiles back at Itachi, his face is full of a soft fondness that has Mikoto and Fugaku exchanging thoughtful glances. “You’re a nice kid, Itachi-kun. Say, have you been up to anything fun lately?”

“I learned how to cast genjutsu on non-organic material this week,” Itachi informs slowly, glancing at Mikoto as though unsure if this is the right answer to what is being asked of him.

“Really?” Raijin gasps. “That’s super cool, Itachi-kun! Was it hard?”

Itachi ducks his head. “Not really.”

Humming, Raijin tilts his head, smile unwavering. “Is that so? Well, I’m still impressed. I can’t cast genjutsu on anything at all, you know.”

Fugaku blinks. “Truly?”

Completely unbothered, Raijin chuckles and nods. “Yeah. I have too much chakra to be able to finetune it like you need to for genjutsu. I struggle with most yin type jutsu in general to be honest.” He shrugs. “On the other hand, I’m really good at breaking out of genjutsu. You win some, you lose some, I guess.”

“Well, I suppose if you’re too yang dominant…” Mikoto trails off, uncertain. Too much chakra to cast any genjutsu at all. How frightening.

“What do you like to do in your free time, Itachi-kun?” Raijin asks, swiftly bringing the conversation back to Itachi.

Fingers tightening around his chopsticks, Itachi chews on his bottom lip in thought. “I like to read,” he offers. “Moriko-obasan got me a new book on the history of Land of Fire recently.”

Raijin nods, eyes bright with a genuine interest that slowly works to draw Itachi out of his shell. “So you like history?”

Shyly, Itachi nods. “I like reading about science too.”

“I like history better personally,” Raijin admits. “It feels more like a story so it’s easier for me to get into it.”

“Do you like storybooks, Raijin-san?”

Raijin scratches at his cheek. “I like when other people read them out to me,” he offers. “I’m not too good at sitting down to finish reading them myself, but I like listening to stories a lot.”

Itachi smiles. “Me too,” he admits. “Shisui is really good at telling stories.”

“Your cousin, yeah?”

“Yes,” Itachi confirms. “I like listening to him.”

“Do you spend a lot of time with Shisui-kun?” Raijin asks, leaning forward slightly.

Nodding, Itachi says, “I do.”

“Then, is Shisui-kun your best friend?”

At that, Itachi blinks and tilts his head. “Is there a difference between normal friends and best friends?”

While Raijin gasps and launches into a lecture about the nuances of friendship and its many faces, Mikoto casts a look to Fugaku who appears to be deep in thought as he watches their son listen with rapt attention to the young man who clearly reciprocates that affection.

“I think Shisui is my best friend,” Itachi concludes by the end of Raijin’s rant.

Brightening, the blond nods. “There you go!”

“Raijin-kun,” Mikoto cuts in before he can go off on another tangent, “you are a sealing master, yes? Like Jiraiya-dono and Kushina?”

Blinking, Raijin nods. “Sure, I guess.”

“Fuuinjutsu is a dying artform, isn’t it? Have you ever considered taking on a student and passing down your knowledge?”

Everyone at the table, sans Itachi, seems to catch onto what she is trying to suggest almost immediately. Raijin looks vaguely amused, but nothing about his countenance suggests discomfort or annoyance.

Fugaku prods further, “You could even become a jounin-sensei once you’ve run enough missions.”

Setting his chopsticks down, Raijin shrugs. “Maybe,” he says. “I’ve never really thought about it, but I don’t think I’d be against it. If everyone approves, and if I find the right student,” his gaze passes over Itachi casually, “I’d definitely be open to considering it.”

Finally seeming to catch onto what is being implied, Itachi sits up straighter and looks at Raijin with wide eyes. Raijin grins at the boy and winks discretely, his smile softening when Itachi smiles back cautiously.

It certainly is something to consider. They’d gone into the evening hoping that Fugaku would be able to cultivate some sort of acquaintanceship here, but clearly, there is a greater avenue open for them to explore here. They would have to think about it extensively, of course, and it is likely that all sorts of bothersome parties would try to involve themselves unnecessarily, but despite all that, it wouldn’t be impossible.

Looking at the uncharacteristic brightness in her son’s eyes and the way Raijin regards him with complete attentiveness, Mikoto can see the potential there for a relationship that could run much deeper and be far more advantageous than just a simple acquaintanceship.

If Itachi can become Raijin’s student and open that door for long-term relations between the Uchiha and their future Hokage…

Well, it certainly is something worth considering.

Chapter Text

Minato watches with raised eyebrows as Obito loses control of the tree he’d been growing using mokuton, wincing when the branch whacks the boy across the face and knocks him flat onto his back.

“Are you okay, Obito-kun?” he asks, approaching his student’s prone form and peering down at him.

Obito groans and blinks back at him. “That hurt,” he announces, pouting.

Smiling in sympathy, Minato helps him back to his feet. “Looked like it,” he comments, double checking to make sure Obito didn’t end up giving himself a concussion. “That’s the third time today,” Minato notes worriedly. “Is something wrong?”

For a second, it seems like Obito might deny it. But then the boy is slumping as the fight leaves him in one go and now Minato is even more worried.

“It’s silly,” Obito admits, his ears turning red. “You’re going to laugh at me.”

Minato smiles and places a hand on his student’s shoulder. “I’m not going to laugh,” he promises.

Obito doesn’t seem convinced. “No, you are. You totally should too. I know it’s really stupid, but like, I can’t help it, you know? And that just makes me feel stupider.”

“Obito,” Minato interrupts gently, “how about you let me decide that for myself? What’s going on?”

Groaning, Obito plops back down onto the ground, crossing his legs and dropping his head into his hands. “It’s about Raijin-san,” he says finally, peering up at Minato to watch his reaction.

It takes some effort to keep from visibly reacting to the mention of his brother but Minato makes sure to keep his body language as open and welcoming as he can. He drops down to sit across from Obito and nods. “Okay. Go on. What about him?”

Roughly scrubbing through his hair, Obito huffs. “There’s this rumour going around the Uchiha compound,” he starts. Making a face, he amends, “Well, I’m calling it a rumour because there’s no official confirmation, but everyone knows it’s gonna happen. It’s more of a matter of time considering the source is the clan heir himself and we all know it.”

Minato frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Raijin-san becoming Itachi-kun’s mentor!” 

Frown deepening, Minato furrows his brows at his student. “What?”

Obito nods, looking upset. “Yeah! Itachi-kun told Shisui-chan, and Shisui-chan is a total gossip even though he’s only, like, eight-years-old, so he went and told the aunties at the market who told the blacksmith uncle, and then the nee-chan who works at the grocery store found out from him and she told the tailor-baachan who told me. So, basically, it’s totally true!”

Gaping at the barrage of words, Minato blinks, struggling to stay caught up. “Hang on,” he says, waving his hand. “So, the Uchiha clan heir is the one who’s claiming that Raijin is going to be his teacher?”

“Well,” Obito draws out, shrugging, “he said that Raijin-san might become his teacher, if everyone agrees to it or something. But, like, why would anyone refuse? Itachi-kun is a genius even though he’s only four, and Raijin-san is awesome and everyone knows that. People at the compound are talking about how it could be a good match and Itachi-kun would be good at fuuinjutsu which makes sense because Itachi is good at everything. And he’s super cute too, Minato-sensei, and I can’t compete with all that! What am I gonna do when Raijin-san ends up totally doting on the clan heir and forgets all about me?”

Minato gapes for a second, brain working overtime to comprehend everything. “Wait, wait, wait.” He shakes his head. “Raijin might teach Uchiha Itachi? When did that become a thing? Who else knows?”

Obito looks at him weirdly. “Raijin-san had that dinner with the main family like last week, before his outpost mission, so I guess that’s when they might have brought it up? Almost everyone at the compound knows, but I don’t think people outside of the clan know, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t think they care enough but it’s kind of a big deal for us—the clan heir could go into a dedicated apprenticeship instead of going down the typical genin route, so everyone is talking about how it’d just be an official recognition of Itachi-kun’s genius.”

Pursing his lips, Minato hums. “I see,” he mutters.

He can’t say he’s surprised that the Uchiha would be pleased about that kind of acknowledgement, especially since Raijin is Minato’s brother—the only living relative of a well known Hokage candidate.

Minato has been paying attention to the Uchiha’s relations with Konoha ever since Raijin mentioned it to him, and he isn’t happy about what he has observed so far. There really is a subtle sort of alienation in how the clan is treated by the village, and the isolation only increases over time. Where it might have only started with the civilians and their general wariness of shinobi and the police force, it has since spread to the shinobi population as well, who are growing bitter about how few Uchiha shinobi are suffering alongside the village in the war.

For their special role in the village, Uchiha shinobi are typically allowed to serve exclusively as members of the Police Force, provided they put in five years of mandatory service in the general shinobi corps. This means that, even as most other shinobi have been deployed to frontline battles and long outpost missions by the borders, the Uchiha have suffered comparatively fewer casualties as a whole since most of them get to stay behind in the safety of the village.

The Uchiha can come off as haughty regarding their exclusive status, and it doesn’t help that they have so little to do with villagers outside their clan as a result of their headquarters being so far away from the village centre, and the fact that most of them don’t bother having long-term interactions with anyone outside the Police Force.

Minato suspects that the Uchiha have begun to see the village’s resentment of them too. The few Uchiha that do continue to serve in the shinobi forces tend to get overlooked for promotions because the higher-ups constantly expect them to quit and join the Police Force, which only fuels the exclusion, forming something of a vicious cycle. There hasn’t been an Uchiha in ANBU in nearly thirty years—Minato had checked.

It’s a problem. A big one. He has no idea how people haven’t noticed or done anything about it. Why hasn’t Hiruzen done anything about it? Surely the Professor has some idea as to what has been happening in the village under his rule.

So, yeah, when he considers all these things, it isn’t surprising that the Uchiha would be hopeful about a Hokage candidate’s brother potentially taking on their clan heir as his student. Being close to Raijin would naturally ensure that Itachi would interact with Minato himself. That’s exactly what the clan needs right now to start pulling themselves back into the fold.

Minato wonders if Raijin is aware of all this too. Does his brother even want the responsibility of a student or have the Uchiha just run ahead and decided this all by themselves?

Of course, this is all assuming that the Sandaime even approves of the apprenticeship. Itachi is only four after all. That’s even younger than Kakashi had been, and at least he’d had the dire circumstances of quite literally having nowhere else to go after his father's death.

And if the Hokage refuses, Minato can imagine the Uchiha are going to be anything but happy about it. They might even see it as a slight against them on purpose. They might not even be entirely wrong about that.

Wilfully or not, the Sandaime did let this happen, and Minato can’t think of a single good excuse on the man’s behalf. The whole situation is a rightful mess, and he has the distinct feeling that it’s going to end up on Minato’s shoulders to clean it up.

He doesn’t know how he feels about his brother getting involved in all this on top of that.

On one hand, Minato is glad for it. He trusts Raijin and his judgement. His brother is the one who noticed the issue in the first place and Minato could trust him to help with any plans to solve the Uchiha’s situation.

On the other, as excited as he is by the prospect of using Raijin’s skill for bureaucracy, a part of Minato also wants to keep his baby brother away from the shark pool of politics where Raijin would maybe be safe.

Uncaring of his internal debate, Obito flops onto his back with a groan. “Minato-sensei,” he whines, “Itachi-kun is totally gonna steal Raijin-san away.”

Right. It’s nice to see that his students still don’t give a shit about his problems.

“I’m sure that won’t happen, Obito-kun,” Minato consoles. “Raijin cares about you. He would make time for you whenever you wanted.”

Obito pouts, looking unconvinced. Minato kind of wants to pinch his cheeks. “But Itachi-kun is so sweet, sensei. And he’s whip smart. Obviously, Raijin-san is going to like him better. I didn’t plan for this, you know.”

Eyebrows rising, Minato repeats, “Plan?”

Obito freezes like he hadn’t meant to actually let that slip. He flushes and looks away, sheepishly plucking at handfuls of grass. “That isn’t important right now,” he deflects. “My point is: Raijin-san is gonna forget all about me if he gets a cute student like Itachi-kun and then I’ll just have to go back to hanging out with the old grannies who man the fruit stalls in the market district.”

“Plan,” Minato repeats, undeterred. Struck by realisation like he has just been slapped upside the head, he asks, vaguely mortified, “Obito-kun, are you trying to steal my little brother?”

“No!” Obito refutes immediately, sounding impatient. “I’m trying to get him to steal me.”

Blankly, the both of them stare at each other for a heartbeat.

“Is that even possible legally?” Minato blurts out. “You’ve technically been an adult since you became a genin.”

Obito frowns thoughtfully. “I mean, you can still adopt adults, right?”

Tilting his head, Minato considers it. “I think that’s more for inheritance and emergency contact purposes,” he says.

“Well, I’m pretty sure it’ll work itself out.” Obito shrugs. “I did kind of adopt Kakashi after all.”

“You did what?”

The boy flushes and avoids his gaze. “By Uchiha clan laws, I basically took him in when I gave him my sharingan.”

Minato eyes his student. His bullshit radar is pinging, telling he really doesn’t want to know. He asks anyways. “But you’re only three years older than him. How…?”

Obito grimaces. His eye shifts, studiously looking at anything but Minato. “I, uh—I think we might be kind of married?” When Minato says nothing, he continues, rambling, “I mean, it’s…complicated. The text is kind of confusing. Giving someone your sharingan brings them into the clan and makes you responsible for them, but the relationship aspect is kind of vague. But, like, if I wanted to petition for it, I could combine our assets and pay joint tribute so the clan would pay taxes on our behalf. I guess that’s kind of like being married?”

And, well, there’s nothing to really to say that.

“Kakashi might wind up saving money that way actually,” he ends up commenting.

Looking morbidly curious, Obito peers up at him. “Really?”

Minato nods, absolutely refusing to examine any of this. “He has quite the assets built up being the last Hatake. His father also left him something of a fortune, and Kakashi has plenty of his own funds from making money since he was five. If you combined assets and then had him be included in the overall Uchiha tax bracket, he’d keep more of what he has earned.”

There’s a deeply contemplative look on Obito’s face, a wicked sort of gleam in his eye that Minato wilfully ignores. “Huh,” he mutters under his breath. “That’s interesting.”

Minato is happy for his students. Really. He doesn’t know how to feel about them getting married before him, but he wishes them well.

“Oh!” Obito blinks, straightening. “That isn’t the point though! We were talking about Itachi-kun stealing Raijin-san from me.”

This has got to be some sort of hallucination. Minato physically doesn’t feel tethered to his own reality right now. Emptily, he stares at his student.

“Well, Obito-kun,” he begins reasonably, “we don’t even know if Itachi-kun will end up as Raijin’s student in the first place. But even if he does, I’m sure Raijin wouldn’t just neglect you. He isn’t the sort of person who’d just forget the people he cares about.”

Obito droops. “But how do you know?”

Minato purses his lips. “Surely you don’t think so little of Raijin, Obito-kun,” he says gently.

“Yeah.” Sighing, Obito plucks at the grass idly. “I know. I just…worry, I guess.”

Humming, Minato turns to stare up at the sky, tracking the clouds that drift lazily overhead. “Well, maybe you should talk to Raijin about it.”

“What?!” Obito shrieks. “No way! He’s going to think I’m insane!”

Dryly, Minato points out, “You are actively conspiring to reverse adopt my brother. That’s not exactly the most mentally stable thing to do, Obito-kun.”

Obito gapes at him. “That was mean, Minato-sensei.”

Minato snorts, raising a hand to ruffle Obito’s hair roughly. “Just go tell Raijin how you feel, Obito. That’s the best way to maintain relationships, you know—talking things out that worry you. Raijin will listen.”

Sighing, Obito concedes. “If you say so.” Then, he brightens. “Hey, sensei, you wanna hear my twelve step plan to reverse adopting Raijin-san? Rin helped me come up with it!”

Raijin stalks back from a month long posting at the barracks bordering the Land of Lightning, feeling far older than all his years and with the exhaustion of too many wars weighing down upon his shoulders.

It hadn’t been a complicated mission. The assignment had been for him and his mission partner to carry supplies to one of their more risky outposts, carry out basic patrol and recon of the tenuous border, and then make their way back to the village with the lists detailing inventory of the barrack and further requests for the next pair who’d go to relieve them of outpost duty for a bit.

Things had gone fine for most of it too. Nothing had been unexpected, the skirmishes hadn’t been challenging to Raijin in the least, there hadn’t been any casualties, and he and his partner had been on their way back before they knew it.

And then they’d been ambushed.

Which hadn’t immediately raised any flags in Raijin’s mind. The Yamanaka jounin he’d been running the mission with was plenty capable and they’d split the attackers evenly between them; two to each. Raijin had dealt with his two quickly and then immediately given chase to one of the kunoichi when she tried to make a break for it, leaving the Yamanaka to deal with the last attacker, assuming he’d be fine on his own.

Raijin has never been one to micromanage the people he works with. It’s good to trust in his allies and let them work as they please rather than minimise their efficiency by breathing down their neck or trying to force them to work his way.

He knows he’s more powerful than most others who share his rank; abnormally so. Nothing about him is regular by any standards and he’s a little skewed that way, but he can recognise that it doesn’t make his allies weak just because they aren’t on the same level as him.

So, he’d had faith his comrade would be able to handle himself while he dealt with the runaway kunoichi.

Except that when Raijin had returned to their campsite after incapacitating their attacker, it had been to find the Yamanaka crumpled on the ground with the assailant nowhere in sight. Going after the last attacker hadn’t even been in question. Raijin had performed a cursory examination of his teammate to confirm that the Yamanaka had in fact been poisoned before promptly hauling ass to Konoha at breakneck speed.

He didn’t know enough about poisons to confirm whether it was fast-acting or lethal or how he might try to combat it. Theoretically, he could try to funnel Kurama’s chakra through the Yamanaka and try to burn the poison out of his veins that way, but the Kyuubi’s chakra is a potent thing, and it could just as easily cause permanent damage to the other man’s chakra coils because of acute rejection. Compatibility is a major issue with the chakra beasts after all. Most adult human bodies simply can't handle it.

The best he could do was to get them home as quickly as physically possible so his teammate could get much needed medical attention.

He only barely manages to not pass out after dropping the Yamanaka off at the hospital, the adrenaline finally leaving his system to leave bone deep weariness in its wake. His legs burn from the strain of pushing himself to complete a two days’ journey in a quarter of the time without allowing for any rest in between. Even with his crazy stamina, Raijin is running on fumes and in need of at least fifty straight hours of sleep. A voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Sakura points out that that’s basically a coma at that point.

Well, whatever. So be it. Raijin deserves a minor coma. As a treat.

Now if only the creepy ROOT ninja would just leave him alone. Their weird voidness registers unnaturally to Raijin’s senses, grating on his frayed nerves and setting his teeth on edge. He gets that the Hokage set the ANBU back on his ass but at least he can still feel their emotions. ROOT ninja just feel…wrong.

They’ve been on his tail since the moment he set foot in the village, and that doesn’t bode well at all for Raijin. If ROOT is on him, that means Danzou has set his sights on Raijin, and he wants nothing to do with that creep at least until the war has ended.

There’s no real way for Raijin to do anything about ROOT without Minato’s help or with ANBU tailing his every move as they are right now. He could go hunt the base down and wreak havoc there himself but even Raijin can’t get that cocky and put himself up against that many opponents, especially considering that he’d like to rehabilitate as many ROOT operatives as possible. He’s pretty sure Captain Yamato is still down there. Raijin can’t risk hurting one of his precious people.

His other option would be to kill Danzou himself but, admittedly, assassinations aren’t Raijin’s strong suit. He’s too suited for heavy hitting, and he doesn’t have enough experience with planning such high stakes infiltration to be confident about his ability to get away without leaving a clue. And if he leaves anything to identify himself as the killer of a respected village elder, Raijin would jeopardise his entire cover story and land himself in T&I for the rest of his life.

It might be selfish but he doesn’t want to risk the life he has built for himself in this time period. Even in the midst of the third shinobi war, this is the most peace Raijin has had in years. He has friends again. He has a brother. He doesn’t want to do anything that might cause him to lose that.

So, yeah, the Danzou thing is kind of a pain in his ass right now.

If Sasuke were in his place, he would have stuck the old coot through with a Chidori first thing and then just dipped, village be damned. Sakura would have straight up dropped a mountain on the warmonger and called it a day. Raijin sighs and shakes his head. He misses his team like a phantom limb.

And then, because Danzou is apparently some sort of bloodhound that can sniff out weakness, as soon as Raijin is turning into the alleyway he uses as a shortcut to get to his building, the elder is there waiting for him.

Raijin pauses and stares, debating just spinning on his heel and walking away because surely the gods can’t hate him this blatantly. But no, turns out they can. Raijin has been the universe’s favourite punching bag literally since the day he was born. Why would things let up now?

Danzou smiles at him, completely unaware of Raijin considering the logistics of committing his murder right in this dingy alleyway. It’d only take a rasengan or two, right?

“Raijin-kun, yes?” the elder says, sounding kind with a practiced ease. Maybe he rehearses it in front of a mirror before going to bed each night.

Does Danzou even sleep? He probably just feeds off the nightmares of children to keep going.

Raijin stares at him. “Uh,” he says eloquently. He can’t outright lie, can he? It’s probably too late for him to start faking amnesia.

“Do you know who I am, Raijin-kun?”

Straightening, Raijin eyes him. “Councilman Shimura,” he states. “Did you need something from me, sir?”

Danzou looks pleased that Raijin already knows of him. “I have heard a great deal about you, boy,” he says, drawing closer. Raijin keeps himself very carefully still, tracking the man’s approach with sharp eyes. “All around, people have nothing but praise for you, and it is well deserved indeed. To defeat the likes of Uchiha Madara is no small feat, Raijin-kun. You have done this village a great service.”

Taking a small step back, Raijin bobs his head in acknowledgment and doesn’t bother forcing a smile. “Thank you.”

Gaze sharpening, Danzou’s own smile disappears in favour of an uncomfortable intensity. “I will be frank, Raijin-kun,” he says. “I see great potential in you, boy. You are already an excellent shinobi and you will undoubtedly continue doing Konoha proud, but I believe that with the correct guidance, you could reach even further heights. I am here because I think I could provide you with that guidance.”

Raijin says nothing, cocking his head and keeping his gaze fixed on the man before him.

“A village is only as strong as the shadows that protect it, Raijin-kun,” Danzou says solemnly, lifting his hand and curling his fingers. “It is my duty to look after Konoha from these shadows, and I am offering you a place among the ranks of those who help me carry out this duty. I believe that, in doing so, you could come to fully realise your potential as a shinobi. You would prove that you truly are a loyal soldier of Konoha.” The man pause deliberately. “I’m sure it would make your brother proud, child.”

Wow. Raijin blinks and tries not to gape too openly. The audacity of this man to come here and accost Raijin like some sort of perv, and then proceed to spout the most outrageously deranged bullshit he has ever had the displeasure of listening to. And Raijin has seen and heard some seriously crazy shit in his life. To imply that Raijin still had to prove his worth to Minato—as if his older brother wouldn’t drop everything to fistfight Senju Hashirama himself if Raijin so much as breathed a word about wanting to see the spectacle for his own personal amusement.

Seriously, Danzou needs to do more research next time he tries to recruit Raijin to his little underground cult. This is just lazy. Hidan had done a better job advertising the cult of Jashin even while actively trying to kill Raijin and his friends. Where is the effort?

Raijin does briefly consider saying yes to try and see if dismantling ROOT from the inside would work, but he dismisses the notion almost immediately. He isn’t built for the whole turning off his emotions thing and his long-term undercover skills are kind of shoddy. He’d probably end up exposing himself as a time travelling jinchuuriki and get locked up in Danzou’s evil dungeon of doom faster than he could blink.

He narrows his eyes and peers at Danzou. “What exactly is it that you would have me do, Danzou-sama? What does it mean to protect the village from the shadows?”

“It is not pretty work, boy,” Danzou answers swiftly, looking solemn. “There is no thanks and no glory for what we do for Konohagakure. Nevertheless, it is essential work. The village needs its shadows to protect it from all threats—external and internal. It is our job to make sure nothing comes in the way of the village’s prosperity.”

More pretty words that don’t really answer anything at all. Danzou makes himself out to be some sort of martyr, like he isn’t actively using the village as an excuse to further his own interests.

What good is a village that does not care for its own people? Danzou’s utopia fundamentally makes no sense at all. As far as Raijin is concerned, his vision of Konoha is just as much of a pipe dream as Madara’s Infinite Tsukuyomi had been.

Pursing his lips, Raijin only barely refrains from outright refusing. If he knows anything about Danzou’s way of operating, his refusal here will not be considered final at all. Instead, the old bastard will take it as a challenge and start driving Raijin to a place where accepting Danzou’s proposal will be his best option. Sabotaging missions, threatening, psychological warfare—Danzou wouldn’t be above any of that.

And Raijin needs space to prepare himself for Danzou breathing down his neck for the foreseeable future.

Sage, what a fucking creep.

“I—” He pauses, more for effect than anything else. He has an image to uphold as a member of team 7 after all. “I have had a difficult mission, Danzou-sama. I will consider your offer once I have rested, with a clear head. Will that be all?”

Danzou watches him, appraisal in his gaze for a long moment. Finally, the man smiles and nods. “Of course. I will wait for your response. Goodnight, Raijin-kun.”

With that, he finally takes his leave, strolling past Raijin and exiting the alleyway before triggering a shunshin and leaving the blond alone in the dark.

Left alone at last, Raijin finally allows his shoulders to slump and sighs, the sound coming from a place of exhaustion deep in his soul. He wants to turn around and go harass the Sandaime into arresting Danzou right now, but there’s no real proof of any wrongdoings at the moment.

After all, this is a point in time that precedes ROOT’s official disbandment. That had only happened after the Uchiha massacre. Right now, Danzou has full leave to do as he damn well pleases.

Huffing, Raijin spins on his heel and goes home. He’ll figure it out eventually.

Raijin has been acting odd, Minato concludes, watching his younger brother stare blankly at the seal Minato had asked him to take a look at. Since he returned from his outpost mission, Raijin has been shifty and lost in thought, easily startled and uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t been sleeping well either if the growing bags under his eyes are any indicator.

Minato has left him alone about it for the past week, knowing that he can sometimes get carried away with ‘mother henning’ as Kushina calls it. Raijin is an adult, perfectly capable of dealing with his own problems, and it should be up to him whether or not he wants to share those with Minato.

Still, Minato worries.

He is never quite sure where the line is between suffocating concern and seeming disinterested. It is Minato’s tendency to love and give too much—he gets too involved and takes on problems that aren’t his to solve, and when he tries to actively not do that, it seems like he goes too far in the opposite direction and ends up alienating his loved ones when they need him instead.

It’s all just so…complicated, and Minato isn’t the best at it, but he’s trying so hard not to screw up with Raijin. Things have gone really well so far. He knows logically that even if he and Raijin end up arguing every once in a while, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. That’s just how relationships are sometimes, and he’d preached to Obito only last week about communication and talking things out.

Nonetheless, he just wants for things to be easy between him and his brother. Is that so bad?

Biting his lip, Minato considers his options and deliberates between saying nothing and bringing up his concern to Raijin.

In the end, his brother makes the choice for him.

“You’re totally staring,” Raijin tells him, looking amused. “Is there something on my face?”

And Minato, who has been building with the urge to say something, ends up blurting out, “You look tired and you aren’t sleeping and I’m worried about you.”

Raijin blinks. “Oh,” he says.

Minato eyes him. He doesn’t look upset. If anything, Raijin’s face softens entirely and he ducks his head in that shy way he does when he’s secretly pleased but is embarrassed about it. Minato breathes a sigh of relief. Okay. He hasn’t screwed up. Good.

“Is everything okay, Raijin?” he asks tentatively.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Raijin looks back at him contemplatively, chewing on his lip in thought. “I’m not sure,” he admits finally, honestly. “Will you listen?”

“Of course,” Minato claims readily.

Raijin smiles at him, taking a moment to flair his chakra in the specific way that Minato recognises works to activate the extensive privacy seals Raijin has inked around his home.

“Last week, Councilman Shimura approached me about joining some faction of the forces that protects the village from the shadows or something,” Raijin says, taking a deep breath and linking his fingers together tightly. “I did some digging and found out it’s called ROOT and it’s like a subdivision of ANBU under Danzou’s personal command.”

Minato purses his lips. “I know of it,” he says carefully.

Nothing about ROOT is outwardly illegitimate at all. Still, something about it doesn’t seem to sit right with anyone who isn’t part of it. The people who join ROOT never leave it, and they never act quite the same ever again.

He tries to imagine Raijin acting like he has seen some of the other ROOT members act—quiet, ghostlike, obedient to a fault. Minato tries not to shudder, forcing himself past the sinking feeling in his stomach. “Raijin, did you…?”

“No,” Raijin says, shaking his head, oblivious to the wave of relief that hits Minato with all the force of a tsunami. “No, I told him I’d think about it, but honestly, something about the whole thing just doesn’t sit right with me.”

Assured that Raijin hasn’t signed his soul away to Danzou, Minato now focuses solely on his brother’s concern. “What happened?”

Raijin bites the inside of his cheek. “It’s the way he approached me,” he says. “Right after I got back from a mission that my teammate got poisoned on. I hadn’t slept in days and I thought my comrade might die. I was all alone, trying to go home, tired and upset. He told me I could prove that I really was loyal to the village.” Raijin frowns at Minato. “That I would make you proud.”

Minato’s mind goes blank. The overwhelming implication that Danzou really tried to go after the only relative of a well known Hokage candidate is the only thing ringing in his head. To attempt such a blatant transgression against Minato, using his name to try to manipulate his little brother.

And it could have worked. Raijin is new to the village, and new to Minato. It would make sense for him to be unsure and wanting to do everything to prove his trustworthiness. The thought makes Minato’s blood run cold.

“I couldn’t place it at the time,” Raijin continues, unaware of his building sense of horror, “but I’ve seen shit like that before. That’s how they lure people in the red light districts, you know. Get vulnerable people and offer to turn their life around. I’ve seen kids get into all sorts of trouble with drugs and crime and prostitution like that.” He purses his lips. “I know that Councilman Shimura is a respected elder of the village and all, I just couldn’t help but—”

“You’re absolutely right, Raijin,” Minato interrupts, voice deadly calm. Raijin’s jaw clicks shut and he blinks at Minato. “Danzou-sama is an elder, yes, but he’s an old man who doesn’t know when to step down and let go of the power that has gone right to his head. ROOT may do important work for the village, but it is also a thin veneer for Danzou’s private army and serves as a consolidation of his power against the Hokage himself. You have nothing to prove to this village or to me. You are a skilled shinobi; a credit to any leader you choose to follow, and Konoha is lucky to have you. Do you understand?”

Raijin’s eyes are wide as he nods wordlessly.

Minato nods back. “Good.” His eyes narrow. “I can’t believe he’s stooped to the point of trying to use me to manipulate you. Danzou must be going fucking senile.”

Whistling, Raijin leans back. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before, nii-chan.”

Fingers curling into fists, Minato clenches his jaw. “I haven’t been this angry in a while,” he admits. “He really tried to imply that I needed you to die for this village for me to be proud of you.”

Raijin blinks, straightening and regarding Minato carefully. “I already know that’s not true, nii-chan. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Minato insists, glaring down at his hands. “You—what if he’d succeeded, Raijin? What if you’d been a little less wary or a little less trusting of me? I could have lost you to one man's ambitions and never known. People who go into ROOT never leave it. They just die. What if—?”

“Woah,” Raijin cuts him off, standing up to cross over to Minato’s side and drop into the space beside him. “Hey, come on, it’s fine. I get it. ROOT is fucked up. I’m not joining them. It’s okay.”

“I know,” Minato sighs, closing his eyes and letting his head fall against Raijin’s shoulder. “I know,” he repeats. “I just—I keep thinking about it.”

“Well, stop thinking about it,” Raijin says simply, nudging him gently. “I saw right through the guy’s bullshit and I’m still around to pester you.”

Minato snorts. “I’m just upset,” he says. “You know I don’t need you to prove yourself to me or anything, right? I’m proud of you everyday, no matter what, Raijin.”

“I know,” Raijin acknowledges easily. “I didn’t even stop to doubt that. You’re my brother, Minato.”

“I’m glad.”

Sighing, Raijin rests his head against Minato’s. “Hey, why does ROOT even exist? Don’t they just do the same stuff as ANBU?”

Minato hums. “Essentially, yeah, just with even less legal accountability because they only answer to Danzou and the Hokage.”

“They only came around when the Sandaime took the hat, right?”

“Yeah,” Minato confirms, lifting his head so he can look at Raijin and assess the thoughtful gleam in his eyes.

Raijin frowns at him. “Well,” he starts, hesitating, “that kind of implies that they aren’t all that necessary, right?”

Eyes narrowing, Minato asks, “Where are you going with this?”

“They say that you’re probably going to be the Yondaime Hokage,” Raijin brings up. “Will you keep ROOT around?”

And that—well, Minato hasn't really thought about that. He blinks and leans back in consideration.

He pauses. “Definitely not as it is,” he decides firmly. “I can see why ROOT exists, but I wouldn’t allow it to remain so completely under one man’s command. Especially a man I don’t trust to respect me as his commander. I’d much rather let it collapse back into ANBU as a proper subdepartment.”

Raijin hums, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. He perks up and leans closer to whisper conspiratorially, “Hey, don’t you think Danzou’s kind of a perv?”

That startles a laugh out of Minato. “Never change, Raijin.”

“Well, duh, you were literally going to cry just thinking about it.”

“Was not.”

“Were too. You can’t lie to me, nii-chan.”

“…Don’t tell Kushina.”

Raijin snorts. “She already calls you a sissy. I don’t see how this is going to make it worse.”

Minato pouts. “I really was worried, you know.”

“Because you’re a worrywart.” Raijin rolls his eyes.

“You should be nicer to your nii-chan, Raijin.”

“No way! Bullying you is basically in my job description as your little brother.”

“I want a refund.”

“Too late. No takebacks allowed. You’re stuck with me now, nii-chan.”

Chapter Text

Three months into his stay at Konoha, Raijin gets assigned his first frontline battle.

He had known that it would only be a matter of time before Hiruzen inevitably shipped him off. Raijin’s strengths as a shinobi are best suited for a battlefield after all, or at least, he has developed them to be this way. It’s not that he can’t be subtle when the situation calls for it, but he does end up having to put more of his focus into restraint in that case and it comes at the cost of his overall performance.

When it comes to an outright battle, on the other hand, Raijin knows he is close to unmatched. Realistically, he could count on both hands the number of people in this time period who could give him enough trouble that he’d have to expose his entire skillset and bring out his strongest attacks.

So, yeah. It really was inevitable and he’d known to expect it but it still kind of sucks. Like, majorly.

The villages aren’t friendly right now, and he gets that, but he’d also gotten used to the shinobi alliance. Raijin had grown up in peacetime, and even when he’d been at war as an adult, it had always been against bigger threats that forced the villages to band together. Maybe it would have been different if he had actually stayed in the village like his peers and ran missions that would sometimes lead to inter-village clashes, but Raijin had been off with Jiraiya for all of that. And once he’d returned, the Five Kage summit had been a big enough deal that conflicts were low even if tensions were high.

Raijin is terrified that he’ll look across the battlefield and find a face that had belonged to a friend and be expected to hurt or kill them. What if he ends up having to fight the family member of a friend? He knows he will likely never befriend the same people again but that doesn’t mean he wants them to hate him either. He doesn’t want to contribute to an endlessly vicious cycle of hatred and revenge.

He could try to just maim and not kill but there’s a high chance of that resulting in him getting called out and punished. Showing mercy to an enemy is frowned upon in the shinobi community even at the best of times, but in the middle of a war, it is likely that he would get outright accused of shirking his duties and putting his allies at risk.

After all, in their world, duty comes above all else. The moment a ninja puts on their headband and swears allegiance to their village, they are renouncing every other identity. They are shinobi first and foremost. Before they are parents or children or siblings or friends, they are shinobi, and they always will be.

Once upon a time, the Will of Fire had been about fighting for a world where their children could be at peace. It had been about protecting the future generations, about prioritising the safety of their progeny so they could have a shot at living better lives. Protecting Konoha had been about protecting all the little futures that would grow up safe behind its walls.

Senju Hashirama himself had lost sight of that by the end of his tenure as Hokage. These days, the Will of Fire is about fighting for the village. It is about protecting the system, the structure, the unit. It is about allegiance to their leader and putting their lives down for Konoha, the villagers in it be damned.

Uchiha Itachi slaughtered an entire clan—his own clan—overnight for the sake of the village, because he had been ordered to. Not even the children or civilians had been spared. Sarutobi Hiruzen, temporarily raised from the dead through Edo Tensei, had looked Sasuke in the eye and said the Will of Fire had burned bright in Itachi. As if it didn’t kill hundreds. As if it didn’t haunt Sasuke for the rest of his life. As if it didn’t ruin Itachi in every way that matters. As if neither of them had been children.

Their Will has gone from being about love and peace to being about strength and unquestioning loyalty.

And Raijin doesn’t know how to be a part of that anymore.

He has been lucky with the missions he has run for Konoha so far. They had only been assassinations, high-stakes courier missions, recon, sabotage, or raiding bases of mercenaries and bandits. Even when he has been required to contribute to the war, it hasn’t been in any direct manner.

That luxury is no longer being afforded to him.

Now, more than ever, he finds himself wishing he could magically learn enough chakra control so he could just become a medic or something. Or maybe he should have specialised in intelligence or investigation or administration.

But no, he had wanted big and flashy so the world could never ignore him again and now that has come back to bite him in the ass.

As soon as all of this is over, Raijin is just going to become a desk shinobi. Staring at words all day might give him a headache and drive him to tears, but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with this shit anymore.

Speaking of the shit he has to shovel; golden eyes flicker at him from across the fire and Raijin has to actively hold himself back from shuddering violently enough to accidentally fling himself into the campfire.

One day, Raijin is going to prove that the planet only continues to turn so that his luck can somehow manage to progressively deteriorate with each passing day. At this point, it really does have to be some sort of divine scheme, and he’s going to get his hands on some proof as soon as he has the time to spare because the only other explanation is that Raijin is just slowly going insane.

Which would make sense but it’s also totally unfair that he’s losing his mind and he still doesn’t get a break. That’d be so unfortunate that it might actually be the final straw that leads him to straight up rage quitting and taking himself on a permanent holiday to some nice deserted island.

But all of that is besides the point. The point being: Orochimaru is totally staring at him and has been for a good five minutes now. Raijin doesn’t the think the guy has even blinked. It’d be fascinating if it didn’t make his skin crawl.

Orochimaru may have decided to fight on their side by the time Kaguya made her presence known but Raijin had never managed to quite get over his hang-ups regarding the Snake Sannin. In his time, Orochimaru had been flighty, slippery and secretive. He had been one hell of an ally, but there was no real trust there.

Even with the end of their world looming over them, Orochimaru hadn’t exactly been a friend. The man had done what was needed, always, and when he fell to Zetsu’s schemes, he had died alone. Raijin couldn’t be sure if there had even been anyone left to mourn him.

He doesn’t really know this version of Orochimaru well enough to know if there is some redemption to be had here. Raijin doesn’t even know if he’s the right person for this at all. He doesn’t like Orochimaru, doesn’t trust him and has no personal investment in the man’s betterment.

But—

But. Well. Jiraiya does. Jiraiya never stopped liking or trusting or being invested even when claimed otherwise. Orochimaru is to Jiraiya what Sasuke had been to Raijin, and that he can understand. He knows too well that giving up on Sasuke had never even been an option to him, had been impossible and unthinkable even when the rest of the world couldn’t fathom his faith in chasing after his teammate once Sasuke abandoned the village.

So, yeah, he doesn’t exactly know if Orochimaru is past the point of no return just yet or not but he doesn’t think he could leave the man alone without at least trying for his old mentor’s sake.

The timeline is a bit wonky in his head since they could only consolidate so many events with the limited time and resources they’d had, but Raijin is pretty sure Orochimaru has already started experimenting with the Shodaime’s cells at the village’s behest. He doesn’t think Orochimaru is a ROOT member already since Minato hasn’t officially been declared successor, so hopefully the illegal experimentation hasn’t started just yet.

Raijin’s gaze drifts back over to Orochimaru’s. The Snake Sannin blinks at him lazily and, in a brief fit of pettiness, Raijin sticks his tongue out at him. Blinking, Orochimaru tilts his head. The asshole doesn’t even have the decency to look taken aback or annoyed—he just looks amused.

Huffing, Raijin turns away. He doesn’t even like Orochimaru. He fundamentally disagrees with a lot of the stuff the guy stands for, including but not limited to human experimentation for one. Although the line with that one is kind of blurry right now because, technically, it should still be village sanctioned. Not that it makes it okay by any means in Raijin’s book, but it isn’t illegal enough for a case to be made for it.

He doesn’t even know how he’s going to take ROOT out of the picture yet and he’s still taking on more problems to solve. Why does he have to be the one to drag Orochimaru’s creepy ass back to the societally acceptable side of morality?

Ugh. Him and his stupid hero complex. He can’t even throw his awesome speech at Orochimaru and hope that will do it because the snake bastard is too skewed for that kind of emotionally intelligent approach.

No, he’ll have to find some other way to occupy Orochimaru’s interest enough that he doesn’t go down the crazy evil scientist route in this life.

Man, Raijin deserves a medal. And a raise. And a lifetime supply of free ramen. He’s out here doing all this community service for free. There has to be some law to protect him from this kind of exploitation.

When he sees Jiraiya next time, Raijin is going to con the old perv into buying him free food forever in exchange for redeeming his creepy best friend.

Nodding to himself, he stands up and heads for his tent, deciding to call it a night.

Tomorrow, they will make the rest of the journey to the no-man’s land in between Land of Frost and Land of Lightning where the currently stationed Konoha troops require reinforcements to respond to the mobilising forces from Kumo. No doubt a battle will ensue soon after. Raijin will have to figure out what he’s going to do about that and fast.

Needless to say, he doesn’t get much rest that night.

Shisui isn’t really a fan of war.

Which, okay yeah, who is? And at all of eight-years-old, no one’s expecting him to really be thrilled about bloodshed and honour or whatever either. Mostly, all anyone expects of him is to keep his head down, follow orders and stay out of the way. And Shisui can do that. He’s good at it even.

But that doesn’t change the fact that the Land of Frost is cold and Shisui’s Uchiha physiology makes that close to unbearable even though he tries to circulate his chakra consciously as much as possible. It doesn’t change the fact that he can never quite manage to sleep in the camps or on the move because he’s jittery in anticipation about the fighting that is just waiting to break out on the horizon. It doesn’t change the fact that even though he’s a chunin now, he’s still eight, and he misses his mum and he misses Itachi and he kind of just really wants to go home.

He most certainly doesn’t want to be stuck on messenger duty as the higher-ups have him run around the camp to pass their messages instead of just doing it themselves.

Still, Shisui makes sure to keep his head down and follow orders and stay out of the way. He’s fast—close to being the fastest among the chunin despite his age, and he’s good at never getting caught underfoot. They say that it makes him efficient. That he’s useful and smart. That it’d be a shame to lose him to the Police Force before he even reaches his prime.

It's supposed to be a compliment, backhanded though it may be. He isn’t sure how to feel about it just yet. Shisui doesn’t particularly want to join the Police Force. He likes his chunin vest a lot more than the police uniforms after all.

He also doesn’t particularly want to be here though, if he’s being honest.

Shisui huffs, sighing at how his breath fogs up in front of his face from the cold. He hopes he’ll manage to sneak away before he gets saddled with another message this time.

Grown ups are kind of stupid as far as he’s concerned. Instead of sending around all these messages through him about last minute intel and strategy changes, they should just go back to the council tent and talk it out themselves so they can just be done with it.

“I’m sorry, Shisui-kun,” Akimichi Chouza smiles down at him sympathetically, “but can you please pass on a message for me?”

Shisui considers just throwing a tantrum instead. He wants to pout and refuse and kick the dirt under his sandals. He does none of that. He does none of that because he may be eight, but he’s a chunin first and that means he has to be serious about his duty to the village. Doubly so because he is an Uchiha and everyone knows that the Uchiha have twice the number of eyes on them, waiting for a screw-up. It won’t matter that Shisui is just a kid and is tired and cold and homesick. It will only matter that he is an Uchiha shinobi refusing an order from a superior.

He forces a smile and nods. “Of course.”

At least Chouza has the decency to look apologetic. “I’d go myself, but I have to go check on our rations right after,” he explains. Shisui decides to forgive him if only because Chouza presses a honey candy into his palm with a wink. He isn’t above accepting a good bribe after all. “Raijin-kun is out patrolling the south-western flank of the camp right now. Can you go tell him that he is being assigned to the third eastern unit as captain tomorrow? Team Chi if he asks.”

Shisui’s eyebrows rise. “Raijan-san?” he repeats. “As in, Namikaze Minato’s brother?”

“I’m sure you’ll find that he’s rather hard to miss once you go looking,” Chouza comments, looking vaguely amused. “The colouring is rather distinctive, after all. Now, can you tell him that for me?”

Suddenly reenergised, Shisui grins. “Of course, sir!” He dips into a salute and scampers off as soon as he has been dismissed.

He may be kind of miserable, but at least he can finally meet Raijan in person and see just what it is about the man that has Itachi so enamoured by him. It had been super weird to see Itachi actually excited about someone—a newbie to the village of all people.

The Yellow Flash is cool, and Shisui has no problems admitting to that. He wants to get that fast someday after all. But just because Namikaze Minato is a badass doesn’t necessarily mean his brother will be too.

“It’s not that,” Itachi had said when Shisui pointed this out. “I just like the way he talks.” Pausing, the four-year-old had sheepishly added, “And his chakra felt nice. Warm.”

As if that made any sense at all.

So, Shisui is curious. Sue him. It’s not everyday Itachi reacts like that. Most days the kid acts like one of the priests from the big shrine; all serious and formal and politely disinterested in worldly pursuits even though he doesn’t even come up to Shisui’s shoulder.

He shunshins at his top speed, eager to get his task completed and hopefully finally be able to call it a night. There are a few clusters of shinobi stationed around the south-western perimeter at even distances from each other, it being one of the few spots where they are left unprotected by the mountains in between which Konoha has set up camp. Most of them are chunin, so it seems that Raijin is in fact in charge of the second patrol shift tonight. Arguably the least desirable shift because it is the coldest around this time of night and those on patrol can’t even start fires to warm themselves up.

“Raijin-san,” Shisui calls out, approaching the head of blond as soon as he spots it. Chouza had been right, at least—the man does stand out even when he is dressed in standard jounin blues, cloak haphazardly thrown over his shoulders and left unclasped.

The man turns, blinking in what might be surprise when Shisui strikes a salute. “Did you need something from me…?”

“It’s Shisui, sir,” he provides. “Commander Akimichi sent me with a message for you. He says you’re being assigned as captain to the eastern Unit 3 as captain starting tomorrow.”

Raijin frowns. “Team Chi?” he asks, brows furrowing when Shisui nods. “The hit-and-run specialists,” he mutters to himself, closing his eyes in thought. “Sure, I guess.”

Shisui shuffles, barely keeping his teeth from chattering as a harsh wind rips through the night and tears through his own standard issue cloak. He’s going to start wearing boots instead from now own. Clearly, wearing two pairs of socks with his sandals just isn’t doing enough for him.

When he looks up, it is to find Raijin’s knowing gaze fixed on him. “Cold, Shisui-kun?” he asks, fingers tapping the spine of the little notebook he’d been occupied with until Shisui came by.

“Just a little,” Shisui admits, shoulders hunching.

Raijin hums. “You’re Itachi-kun’s cousin, yes?” he asks, leafing through the notebook. “He mentioned you when we last spoke.” Looking up to smile at him briefly, he adds, “He said you were his best friend.”

And, even freezing his butt off, Shisui can’t help but perk up at that. “He did?” he asks, leaning forward slightly. “Man, I can’t believe I missed it! Itachi-kun can be unexpectedly cute, huh?”

Raijin chuckles, the laugh high and genuine. “He’s a sweet kid, for sure,” he says, pulling out a page from the notebook and examining it fleetingly. “I’m glad he has a friend like you though. You seem like you probably draw him out of his shell.”

A little stumped, Shisui blinks twice. “Well,” he fidgets, feeling his ears turn warm, “I guess. I try to at least.”

“Good.” Raijin smiles kindly. “Here you go, Shisui-kun,” he adds, offering the piece of paper to him. Shisui eyes it, unsure if it’s another missive for him to carry. “It’s a seal I use to stay warm,” Raijin explains, perhaps seeing some of the doubt show on his face. “If you stick it to the inside of your clothes and pulse your chakra into it, it should keep you warm for at least the rest of the night.”

Now with a newfound appreciation for the little square of paper, Shisui accepts it and stares in awe at the pretty squiggles that mean a whole lot of nothing to him. “Really?” he asks, wide eyed. “Can I really keep it?”

“Of course,” Raijin chirps, grinning and ruffling Shisui’s hair. “You’re a friend of Itachi-kun’s after all. That kind of makes us friends by extension too.”

Shisui is pretty sure that isn’t how it really works but he isn’t about to bring that up now. He’s a child of the world after all. Itachi might think he’s above it, but Shisui can appreciate a good hustle for what it's worth. And if he knows anything, it’s to never refuse free stuff. Especially free stuff that keeps him warm while he’s stuck in the cold for the foreseeable future.

“Sure,” he decides on the spot, beaming up at the older shinobi. “I’ll totally be your friend, Raijin-san! Does this mean you’ll make another one of these for me if I ask?”

Snorting, Raijin crosses his arms. “Maybe,” he allows.

Shisui is undeterred. The toasty warmth spreading from where the seal is now stuck to the inside of his chunin vest only eggs him on and he bounces on his toes. “Then, can I come find you tomorrow for one?”

Some older shinobi find that kind of thing annoying. Even when they share a rank, overlooking age can be difficult since Shisui is as young as he is. What kind of adult actually wants to hang out with an eight-year-old and entertain all their ‘childish’ whims?

Apparently Raijin does because he only flashes Shisui another smile of indulgent amusement. “Sure, Shisui-kun,” he says patiently.

Shisui knows better than to whoop out loud on the edges of a war camp, but it’s a near thing. He settles for pushing his joy into his chakra instead, the only semi-outlet he has, letting it brush against Raijin’s for just a second to share it with the man.

Raijin doesn’t seem put off by that either, even though it could be counted as maybe a little overly friendly. Shinobi are skittish creatures after all. Instead, his own chakra twists around Shisui’s playfully before retreating.

And, yeah, Shisui sees it now. Raijin really is nice and his chakra is so warm to the senses that it almost tricks Shisui into believing that he can physically feel it, and maybe that’s why Itachi seems to like him so much. Raijin doesn’t necessarily talk down at Shisui but he’s also kind; gentle in a way he probably isn’t with older shinobi.

Normally, being treated like a kid pisses Shisui off. He’s a shinobi and he’s good at it and people only seem to want to treat him like a kid so they can conveniently undermine that. They didn’t see him as a kid when he made his first kill at six, but they do throw his age in his face when they start to feel threatened by his skill. It’s annoying. The inconsistency is confusing and, sometimes, hurtful.

But being treated like a kid just for the sake of it? To be nicer and funnier and more tolerant but still respectful? That…isn’t so bad. At all. It’s the kind of thing that Shisui likes about Akimichi Chouza, for example.

“I bet Itachi’s gonna hate that I’m friends with you now,” he remarks, grinning wickedly.

Raijin’s eyebrows rise. “Really? Why would he?”

“I think he wants to keep you for himself, you know? He’s totally gonna pout about it because he’ll think I’m trying to steal you away,” Shisui says. “Itachi-kun doesn’t make friends too easily, after all.”

Snorting, Raijin tries and visibly fails to smother a smile. “Cute.”

“Isn’t it?” Shisui grins. “He might try to hack off my hair with a kunai again though.”

“Again?”

“Oh, yeah,” Shisui waves his hand, “Itachi-kun is vengeful.”

Raijin hums, looking thoughtful. “Must run in the family.”

Shisui cocks his head. “What does that mean?

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Shisui-kun.”

Somewhere on the border of Land of Wind, Uchiha Obito violently jerks awake at night, disoriented and wild, sharingan spinning.

“Obito?” Kakashi rouses beside him, squinting up at his friend in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

Frowning, Obito stares unseeingly at the canvas wall of their tent. “I sense a great disturbance somewhere in the universe, Kakashi,” he announces solemnly.

“What the fuck,” Kakashi responds.

“Something terrible has just happened.”

“Literally just shut up and go back to sleep, Obito. You have the next watch.” Rolling over, Kakashi hunkers further down into his sleeping bag.

“I can feel it, Kakashi,” Obito insists.

“Why couldn’t I have had normal teammates, kami-sama?”

Snorting, Obito lays back down. “What a strange thing to say about your husband, Kakashi.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Hmm? Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

“Obito? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Obito?"

Chapter Text

“Captain,” Hyuuga Daisuke appears at Raijin’s side, “visual on target is confirmed.”

 Nara Ensui looks up from the map he had been poring over. “ETA?”

“Seven minutes. They’re by the mountain pass leading into the valley.”

Exhaling slowly, Raijin nods. “Have Kumiko-san go into position and resume your post,” he orders.

Daisuke strikes a salute and leaves.

Raijin turns to his vice-captain, eyebrow quirked. “Your shoulder still giving you trouble, Ensui-san?”

Map neatly folded, Ensui pockets it and rises to his feet, shrugging noncommittally. “I’ll manage,” he states plainly.

“Still, we shouldn’t test our luck. I’ll request to stop by a base after this mission.”

Ensui rolls his eyes. “Just focus on not blowing up the entire mountain for now, please, Captain.”

Snorting, Raijin flashes him a grin. “You don’t let me have any fun, Ensui-san.”

“It’s my job.”

This time, it is Raijin who rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he drawls, waving his hand. “Go take your position already. Try not to pull your stitches again.”

Irked, Ensui sniffs. “It’s not like I do it on purpose.”

“Tell that to Sumeko-chan.”

Ensui makes a face and salutes shortly, whirling around to go take his post further up the mountain the team is stationed on. So far, Team Chi has been lucky with the weather and managed to avoid fighting in the snow, but their good fortune seems to have finally run out. Raijin eyes the building layer of snow with distaste and scoffs at it.

Konoha nin don’t exactly have the best history of combat in high altitude and snowy areas. Put simply, it comes down to lack of experience. Konoha rarely gets snow even in their coldest months, and when they do, it doesn’t stick around for long. Moreover, most of the Land of Fire is set in the plains. Their high-altitude areas are hills more than anything, and the few mountains they do have pale in comparison to those in Land of Frost and Land of Lightning.

They aren’t used to fighting in the low visibility and freezing temperatures. Keeping themselves warm is difficult enough without having to worry about further regulating chakra so they don’t slip on the ice and snow. Managing to fight an opponent only comes in later.

Well, there’s nothing for it. They have their orders after all. They’ll make do or die trying. Such is war.

Today’s objective is simple enough in theory. Their job is to sabotage the company of shinobi carrying out the transportation of supplies to a tertiary Kumo base and take out the lieutenant colonel in command of the company. They are expecting 70-90 soldiers, most of them chunin. The supplies in question are the Kumo base’s rations and weapons for the next three weeks. Sabotaging the delivery would severely cripple the base’s operations and potentially allow Konoha to take advantage of the weakness and gain control of the base since its location puts one of their own major encampments in danger.

Raijin’s squad consists of five shinobi, including himself. If they were to attempt a head-on attack, that would mean each of them would simultaneously have to take on over fifteen opponents each and then somehow destroy the supplies too. Needless to say, a frontal assault is out of the question.

This leads them to their obvious best option: blowing up the mountain.

Right from the start, Raijin had decided that casualties on his squad are unacceptable. He knows shinobi die on the job all the time; even more so in the middle of a war. Nonetheless, he has been appointed to the eastern brigade and given a team of his own to lead, and this is what that responsibility means to him.

Team Chi had been an eight-member squad prior to his assignment. Their specialty had been in hit-and-run ambushes of enemy squads and platoons until they lost half the team, including their previous captain, on a mission.

Now, there are five of them including him. Raijin’s addition has taken them from a speed oriented team to a force oriented one, but Team Chi makes it work admirably. Raijin quite likes them. He wants to make sure all of them get home.

Ergo, blowing up the mountain.

While easy enough on paper, there’s quite a bit of nuance to the operation. Too small of an explosion, and the impact isn’t enough to aid their team of five against a company that is over ten times their size. But if too much force is applied, then they risk burying themselves right alongside their enemies. Ensui has been nagging at Raijin about the math behind the whole thing for a whole week now. At this point, he hears the lecture echoing in his ears even when the second-in-command isn’t actually there.

Shuddering, Raijin sniffs against the cold and rolls his shoulders. He can just about spot the company of Kumo soldiers making their way around the bend in the road, which means it’s time for him to get into position along with the rest of his team.

Raijin crouches like a fox in the snow, fingertips pressed to the trigger of a network of meticulously altered exploding tags sprawling across the mountain, lying in wait for his prey to move into place.

Twenty minutes later, a Kumo company of 85 shinobi has been buried in a tomb of ice and silence.  

Team Chi has a rather simple but strikingly effective way of functioning.

As a five-member squad, they slowly but surely begin to build a repertoire that speaks of an overwhelming sort of competence. It shouldn’t make sense since they are markedly smaller than most other squads in Konoha’s army, and yet, they rip through each assignment with ruthless efficiency, and they never lose another member. There are only five of them, but Team Chi is resourceful and well in tune with each other. It doesn’t take long before there are eyes on their movements and expectations on their shoulders.

Their strategies tend to follow a similar pattern unless they are running an unusual mission, making full use of the extraordinary powerhouse that is Namikaze Raijin. His seals keep them warm and equipped with devastating explosives and impressive barriers. His penchant for solid clones gives them manpower even though they have fewer members than other squads. His flair for destructive jutsu tears through enemy armies as though he alone is enough to stand between Konoha and the rest of the world.

Kumogakure has always been a most difficult opponent. They are well funded, well populated, and highly defensible. Their strength lies in their geography—no other shinobi village is quite as well suited to fighting in the high altitudes with the punishing weather and thin air, nor are they used to the tough terrain of the mountains that Lightning is so proud of. Amounting an attack on them is a futile lesson in loss that the villages have learnt to not attempt anymore. With their position thus secured, Lightning gets to strike forwards without having to worry as much about retaliation to their home.

Very quickly, however, word reaches them of Konoha’s slow but steady approach towards their borders as they choke off encampments leading in from Frost. One by one, their supply routes get ambushed, their storage houses raided, and their camps face attacks whenever they are at their weakest from a shortage in rations and equipment.

It doesn’t take much to learn that at the heart of many of their primary concerns are the Hyuuga clan’s byakugan which lets them see right through mountains and bad weather, and a sealing master who brings down the very mountains upon their shinobi time after time. A squad of Konoha nin who use Lightning’s own natural defences against them with repeated success.

Even once their style and movements become predictable, they don’t become any easier to deal with. How does one hide from an eye that can see through miles of solid stone? How does one combat an avalanche before they are buried?

It is a pensive Kakashi that Minato happens upon in the mess tent of the outpost they are both currently assigned to. The sight of his student’s tense shoulders and furrowed brows has him making a beeline straight towards the boy before he can even think twice about it, the instinct to help and ease calling to him above everything else.

For all intents and purposes, Team 7 has officially been dissolved as a cell since all its members now rank chunin or above. Minato technically isn’t their sensei anymore, and he isn’t obligated to look out for them in any capacity. In fact, he and Kakashi are basically colleagues since they share a rank even if Minato is still of a higher standing in the wartime hierarchy. By all means, his job is over.

But Minato will never stop seeing those kids as his team. He will never stop wanting to look after them. Kakashi will always be the closest thing he has to a son.

“Hello there, Kakashi-kun,” he greets, smiling.

Kakashi blinks, his features visibly softening at the sight of Minato, and nods in return. “Minato-sensei,” he murmurs, shuffling over to make space for Minato on the bench. “I didn’t know you were posted here.”

“I just arrived a few hours ago. You must have been on patrol,” Minato informs, setting his tray of food on the table. “I’ll be here for a month.”

“Ah.” Kakashi’s shoulders drop ever so slightly as his gaze turns towards his own half-eaten tray.

Minato hums. “You’re leaving tomorrow,” he infers, sighing. “That’s a shame. It would have been nice to be together. I haven’t seen any of you in a while.”

“Yeah.” Kakashi nods, idly playing with his food. “I had a brief recon mission in Wind with Obito a few weeks ago,” he offers. A vaguely disgruntled expression crosses his face. “He was being extra stupid.”

Eyebrow rising, Minato carefully says, “Oh?”

Shaking his head, Kakashi glances at Minato. “He said something about Uchiha clan laws surrounding the donation of a sharingan,” he admits eventually. “Obito was being really cagey so I didn’t get the full picture.”

“I…may have heard.”

“I figured.” Kakashi sighs. “I’ll look into it later.”

Minato smiles empathetically, nudging his student’s shoulder with his own. “Is that what you were thinking so hard about?”

“I wasn’t—” The protest cuts itself off before Kakashi can even fully get into it and the boy gives up on it, slumping in defeat.

Obito’s abduction had affected all of them, but it had hit Kakashi the hardest. These days, the youngest member of Team 7 makes a conscious effort to soften his rough edges around them, cutting himself off often to rephrase his words. Kakashi is quieter, more hesitant, more subdued.

Some part of Minato recognises that Kakashi would have had to learn to mesh with other people sooner or later since Konoha’s functioning is so team-centric. He just wishes the growth didn't have to come from a place of so much pain.

“It’s not that,” Kakashi amends. “I received my next assignment.”

He passes over the letter he had been so occupied with prior to Minato’s arrival. Scanning it quickly, Minato finds his eyebrows shooting up.

“To Lightning,” he notes. “Team Chi of the north-eastern platoon.”

“Your brother’s team.”

Minato smiles. “That it is.” He looks up at Kakashi and tilts his head. “They’ve been a bit of a hot topic lately. This is good news for you, Kakashi-kun.”

Through the mask, Kakashi purses his lips. “You think so?”

Carefully folding the letter, Minato slides it back to its owner. “I do,” he confirms. “Team Chi is making itself instrumental in our advance against Kumo—a front that we’ve been pretty stagnant on for nearly seven months. If you’re being assigned to them, it means people high up in our chain of command have enough faith in your potential to expect great things of you despite the difficult environment. It's a good way to gain experience.”

“I haven’t been part of a long-term team in a while,” Kakashi comments with a deceptively unaffected air.

“You’ll do fine, Kakashi,” Minato assures softly, carefully reaching to place a hand on his student’s shoulder and squeezing.

Kakashi doesn’t seem particularly convinced. “I’m the only other jounin on the team.”

Shrugging, Minato counters, “Well, team rankings differ during wartime. Experience and skillsets factor in more than they might under usual circumstances. You’ll all figure it out together based on what works best.”

“We’d only be a six-member squad.”

“A bit unusual,” Minato concedes. Most squads have 8-10 members after all. “But it doesn’t seem to be affecting their performance much at all since no one has done anything to change it.”

For a long moment, Kakashi is quiet. Minato lets him be. He has some idea as to what this is about, but it wouldn’t do for him to push.

Finally, Kakashi says, “Sensei, what if—I can’t screw up again. I—” He breaks off, voice cracking, and curls his fingers into tight fists, gaze downcast.

“Kakashi,” Minato says gently, “you can never control every single aspect of any mission. Sometimes things happen beyond our control. No plan can account for how things actually turn out in the real world. That’s a risk all of us have to take as shinobi. What is important is how we respond to our mistakes. The only thing that matters is what you take away from your experiences and how you better yourself for the next step forward. You are not the shinobi you were a month or even a week ago. You have to trust that it will be enough.”

He could be harsher about it. Jiraiya had once snapped at Minato mid-mission about how doubting himself on the field is what would get him and his allies killed. Shinobi can’t afford that sort of hesitation. Not when there are lives at stake for every second they waste.

But Kakashi doesn’t need that. The boy always has been and always will be his own harshest critic. He knows what is expected of him as a shinobi and Kakashi always delivers on that front. What he needs to figure out now is how to be a person beyond being a ninja. Uncertainty is a part of growing up. Conflict and struggle are unavoidable in personhood—they are what make the good parts in life worthwhile after all.

And at eleven, Kakashi is unmistakably still growing. He is learning to be more than a sum of his tragedies. It was never going to be easy, and ultimately, Kakashi was always going to have figure it out for himself. All Minato can do is be there to support and point him in the right direction.

“What if I screw up and your brother is the one who gets hurt this time?” Kakashi challenges. His posture and tone of voice are keyed up and abrasive but, when he looks up at Minato, there is only a very real fear in his eye.

Minato exhales slowly, offering Kakashi an upward quirk of his lips. “Raijin can take care of himself,” he states. “You’re going to be on a team of very capable shinobi. All of them know how to handle whatever is thrown at them, Kakashi. Mistakes are always possible on the field, but you will have competent and experienced teammates at your back who will be there to help you recover, and that is the best you can really ask for.”

Sighing, Kakashi looks away. “I guess.”

“Just do your best, Kakashi,” Minato says. “That is all we can really do as ninja. The one thing you can control is yourself—your skills, your work ethic, your motivation. Choose to keep giving your best.”

“Right,” Kakashi mutters. He still doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but some of the tension does leave his frame at least. Minato supposes that’s the most he’s going to get in one day with one conversation.

“Shall we talk about something else then?” he offers brightly.

Kakashi eyes him thoughtfully. “Sure,” he agrees far too easily. “What do you know about the sharingan thing?”

Minato freezes. There’s a gleam in Kakashi’s eye that says he won’t be escaping this conversation so easily. Minato sighs.

“About that…”

“I’m married?!”

Weakly, Minato tries to point out, “Technically, I’m sure you can choose to define your relationship however you want.”

His efforts are rewarded by a wicked glare.

“But, legally, marriage is what it would be,” Kakashi argues viciously. He isn't wrong. Konoha does acknowledge most clan laws as special clauses to its own constitution. He groans and presses his knuckles to his eyes. “That idiot—I’m going to kill him myself!”

“Now, now, Kakashi,” Minato tries to placate, “murdering a fellow shinobi is frowned upon, you know. Murdering a spouse—”

Kakashi’s glare worsens, and Minato wisely shuts his mouth.

“I don’t want to be an Uchiha,” he states, scowling. “They literally hate my guts.” A look of realisation crosses his face before outrage quickly replaces it. “Those old hypocrites—they were going on about an outsider to the clan having the sharingan when, technically, I counted as clan the whole time.”

Which… is actually an excellent point. That’s a legit attempt to con Kakashi out of clan status he’d achieved by Uchiha laws.

“Maybe I should make Obito a Hatake and see how they like it,” Kakashi mutters fiercely under his breath, crossing his arms.

Minato stares blankly. He doesn’t know if Kakashi realises the strange special status Obito has in his own clan as a mokuton user or the possible ramifications of Kakashi choosing to revive his clan by stealing Obito away from the Uchiha by reversing the sharingan policy. With two members, he could even reclaim the Hatake seat on the council.

“Yeah,” Kakashi is declaring, a violent sort of petty satisfaction lacing his words like venom, “fuck those ancient cronies. I bet Obito would be down.”

Obito would be down, Minato realises with dawning horror. He’d definitely enjoy sticking it to the Uchiha elders. And the tax policy he'd been so fascinated by would be valid for the Hatake too. Obito could even negotiate with Kakashi for a claim to the Hatake inheritance.

His students are going to set off a political landmine out of pure spite.

Hatake Kakashi is a slight thing for all the talk of him being a prodigy.

Ensui know better than to take him at face value though. He has heard of the things Kakashi has done since becoming a jounin. He’s as much shinobi as the best of them.

“We don’t have missions this week,” he tells the boy, leading the way to the tent Kakashi has been assigned to, “so we’re going to use that time to fit you into our current go-to strategies. The captain and I have a few ideas; we’ll brief you later.”

“Who am I staying with?” Kakashi asks.

“The captain.” The mask does a lot to hide Kakashi’s emotions but Ensui notes the almost imperceptible passing of a strange expression across the boy’s face. “Problem?”

This time, Kakashi makes sure Ensui can see his scowl. “No.”

‘Amusing,’ he thinks, biting back a smile that will probably result in him getting his kneecaps stabbed by an eleven-year-old. “We’re already doubled up in the other tents,” he explains instead, looking away from Kakashi’s defiant stare, “but if you want to switch with one of us, that’s fine. Raijin wouldn't care either way.”

“I don’t,” the kid insists fiercely.

Ensui shrugs. “Okay.”

If the kid has beef with the captain, then that’s not Ensui's problem. Neither of them would have made it to jounin if they couldn’t work past interpersonal issues, and that’s all that matters to him as Team Chi’s primary strategist and second-in-command.

“How good are you with that eye of yours?” he asks, nodding at the sharingan that Kakashi keeps hidden behind his forehead protector.

Sparing him a sidelong glance, Kakashi replies, “Good enough. Why?”

Ensui hums. “Adding high quality genjutsu to the mix could really add variation to our current strategies,” he says. “Kumo is starting to get wary of our known patterns. It’s about time to switch things up.”

“Is that why I was added to the team?”

“Not really,” he answers honestly. “We needed more mid-ranged and senior ranked fighters with a well-rounded skillset. It was a policy issue: Raijin can’t be the only full jounin on the team for the kind of missions they’re starting to want to send us on. You fit the bill.”

Ensui stops at Raijin’s tent and waves Kakashi through the open flaps. Inside, Raijin looks up from the maps spread on the table and perks up at the sight of them, offering a wave.

“There you are!” Grinning, he nods at their newest addition. “Welcome to the team, Kakashi-kun. I look forward to working with you.”

Visibly studying his accommodations for the foreseeable future, Kakashi nods absently. “Sure.”

Raijin doesn’t seem bothered by the lacklustre manners. If anything, he looks amused as he watches Kakashi toss his belongings onto the unclaimed bed pushed to the opposite side from Raijin’s own.

This is why Ensui likes Raijin. Nara have never been too bothered with formality and seniority and the like, and Raijin is similarly lax about such things. If he’d been uptight and insistent on the team upholding rank hierarchy for the entirety of Team Chi’s run, it would have been a serious drag.

“Get settled in first, and then we can give you a rundown on how we usually function on missions and where we’re hoping you’ll fit in,” Raijin says, stretching his arms over his head. “After that, you can meet everyone else.”

Kakashi turns around and inclines his head. “No, let’s do the rundown first.”

Ensui looks between the two jounin. He really hopes Kakashi isn’t the type to be contrarian out of some misplaced sense of inferiority because that would make everything so much harder than it needs to be.

Remarkably unfazed, Raijin only smiles and shrugs. “Well, if you’re sure.” Turning to nod at Ensui, “Would you take the lead, Ensui-san?”

Ensui steps further inside, taking position at the head of the table while Kakashi shuffles over to claim the only other chair in the tent. “Team Chi is a hit-and-run or ambush based team,” he explains. “Our objective isn’t a decisive win or outright prolonged engagement with the enemy. We utilise surprise tactics to hit them hard and give them no time to prepare an organised defence, allowing us to either sabotage them and escape or to eliminate them, based on mission objective.”

Stepping in, Raijin says, “The core of all our attacks is simple: misdirection.”

Kakashi’s frown is visible through the mask. “What do you mean?”

“Because we are so outnumbered, we need to constantly be outmanoeuvring the enemy. We keep them occupied and whenever they start getting into any rhythm, we hit them with a new surprise that they’re unprepared for.”

Ensui steps in. “Raijin-san starts off most of our attacks with something explosive and noisy meant to startle the enemy into chaos—”

“You use explosions?” Kakashi interrupts, voice high with incredulity. “In the mountains?”

Raijin aims a sheepish smile at the boy. “It’s delicate work.”

And Kakashi doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that. Ensui can sympathise. He often doesn’t know how to adequately react to their captain either. He’s pretty sure Raijin is aware and finds it funny.

“We follow that up with an ambush from Akimichi Kumiko,” Ensui says, bringing them back on track.

“Twenty-four, chunin, taijutsu specialist,” Kakashi recites, probably word-for-word from the debriefing pamphlet he was given to review.

Raijin nods in approval. “Her job is a difficult one. She draws most of the infantry to herself since she, quite literally, appears as the biggest threat on the field thanks to Akimichi gigantification jutsu. Essentially, she is our primary decoy.”

“Right when they start getting used to focusing on her, Raijin-san steps in as our next powerhouse. He overwhelms them with his clones and general flashiness—”

“Hey!”

“—and, in the meantime, the rest of us lay down inactive barrier seals. Following that, it is a matter of using the fight to guide the enemy into position before retreating. The barrier is activated to prevent escape, an explosive is set off, and the job is done.”

The tent is silent for a minute as Kakashi presumably processes this.

“If we have a particular target,” Raijin continues after a moment, “then I engage them in combat as decoy until Ensui-san can get into position to trap them and finish things off.”

“Most of our missions target mountain passes, supply houses, routes, encampments and the like over the shinobi themselves. Of course, we’ve been tasked with dealing with them too, but simply put, our job is to deal as much damage as quickly as possible,” Ensui summarises.

“Hit hard and hit fast,” Kakashi muses. “Where do I fit into this?”

Ensui folds his hands together. “The scale of the missions has been rising. We need another powerhouse, but not someone on the same scale as Kumiko or Raijin, and it has to be someone versatile and quick. Your job is to take the edge off them since we’ll be dealing with even larger numbers and locations.”

“Both Kumiko-san and I tend to be really occupied, and Ensui-san usually has enough on his plate trying to direct all of us while also carrying out secondary mission objectives. The other two are close-to-mid-range fighters and unsuitable for this role.” Carelessly twirling his brush, Raijin nods at Kakashi. “We need someone fast and decisive who can take on skilled mid-to-long-ranged fighters. Plus, having a sharingan user gives us a much needed boost in recon and genjutsu centric tactics since we’ve been risking becoming one-note for a while.”

“What would ‘genjutsu centric tactics’ look like?” Kakashi asks.

“We’re still considering the specifics so your input would be welcome, but for now, we were thinking about something to facilitate the entrapment,” Ensui answers.

Grinning sharply, Raijin adds, “I’ve been working out the math for a possible combination of illusion based fuuinjutsu but my genjutsu casting skills are nonexistent. I could really use your help.”

Looking thoroughly intrigued, Kakashi repeats, “Illusion based fuuinjutsu.”

Raijin’s grin manages to widen impossibly. There is something uncannily animalistic about it that promises nothing but trouble. “Most seals function as a store of chakra that can be triggered later on. You can’t create something out of nothing after all. So, for example, in an exploding tag, I’d store a bit of formless fire-natured chakra and use a wind-natured or fire-natured array to multiply the effects, so that when it is triggered, you get an explosion.”

Kakashi blinks, catching on. “So you want to what—store a genjutsu in a seal?” He looks bewildered. “Can that even be done?”

“Theoretically.” Raijin shrugs, smiling. “I guess we’ll be finding out.”

Slowly nodding, Kakashi turns to look up at Ensui. “What about the others?”

“Ah.” Ensui straightens. “Hyuuga Daisuke and Kiyoshi Sumeko.”

“Sixteen, recon specialist, chunin,” Kakashi murmurs. “Twenty-two, poisons specialist, tokujo.”

Ensui nods. “Daisuke is fundamental to us even starting any operation since he’s our primary source of visual input. The byakyugan lets him see through mountains, so we can be prepared well in advance and proceed unaffected by weather and visibility. Combat wise, he’s a close-ranged fighter, but he’s good at moving around in battlefields to lay the seals where they are required. Sumeko is good at everything you ask her to do. She’s our primary infiltrator and she makes for excellent support in a fight, being a weapons and toxins mistress. She is also our main source of first-aid since none of us know even the basics of medical ninjutsu.”

“She’s super terrifying about following doctors’ orders,” Raijin adds helpfully. “Ensui-san is her favoruite to bully.”

Ensui makes a face but doesn’t argue. He suspected as much.

“Rin is like that too,” Kakashi offers, ducking his head.

Ensui has no idea who Rin is, but he assumes she’s a teammate. Raijin, at least, seems to recognise the name seeing as he brightens.

“I think it’s a mednin thing,” he shares cheerfully. “Maybe you have to be slightly crazy to learn iryo-ninjutsu. Or maybe you go crazy after learning it?”

Kakashi blinks. “I think it’s the latter,” he says. Then he frowns and looks thoughtful. “Actually, it might just be both.”

Ensui rolls his eyes at them. “Is that everything for now?” he cuts in before Raijin can get carried away any further with this theory.

Shooting him a smile, Raijin nods. “Yes, that will be all, Ensui-san. You’re free to go if you’d like.”

Ensui nods and strikes a salute before spinning on his heel to leave. Behind him, he can hear Raijin dive into explaining the concept behind a genjutsu holding seal to a reluctantly inquisitive sounding Kakashi.

He sighs. It seems like he’ll have to be on the lookout for those two potentially setting their tent on fire or accidentally causing the entire camp to mass hallucinate.

He really doesn’t get paid enough for this.

Chapter Text

Kakashi had gone into Team Chi with a sense of purposeful wariness. Not only because he hadn’t wanted to be assigned to another dedicated team (at least not until he can trust himself to look after another teammate’s back), but also because he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t let his guard down around Minato’s brother.

He had known that the latter would be a difficult endeavour. Kakashi has watched Raijin interact with Obito, Minato, Kushina and even Rin. He has seen how just a few words and jovial smiles from the blond seems to draw them in like sunflowers turning towards the sun. Or like hapless moths drawn to a flame. Hell, even Nara Shikaku looks more awake, almost charmed, in Raijin’s presence.

The elder shinobi’s charisma is only aided by the fact that Kakashi has to spend so much time in close quarters with him now that they’re essentially roommates. He keeps his eye out, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, but aside from occasionally having garbled one-sided conversations in his sleep, Raijin doesn’t do anything to warrant the suspicion Kakashi can’t help but regard him with.

Raijin is funny and easy-going in their day-to-day life, and a reliable leader when they’re on missions. He tries to build and maintain a rapport with each member of the team, actively engaging them in both casual discussion and team strategy meetings. He ropes Kakashi into helping him experiment with seals and it is only halfway through their second session that Kakashi realises Raijin is subtly trying to teach him basic fuuinjutsu theory. He tells them point-blank that he refuses to put their lives at risk for the sake of any mission.

The last one had turned Kakashi’s blood to ice, his mouth going dry, as if a ghost had just walked right through him. It had brought up uncomfortable reminders of his father and of Obito; both reminders that had left Kakashi feeling thoroughly spooked and rendering him unable to look Raijin in the eye for days after.

Despite himself, however, Kakashi finds that he is slowly being drawn out of his shell. He barely catches himself from smiling at Raijin’s antics, only just managing to refrain from feeling any fondness accompanying the amusement he feels whenever he gives in and quips back at the blond.

It doesn’t help that Raijin always seems so delighted whenever he manages to pull those moments of almost-camaraderie out of Kakashi. Even when Kakashi snaps at and challenges him on purpose, knowingly pushing buttons that he can see piss Raijin off, Raijin doesn’t snap back as Kakashi expects him to. He storms off and sulks and pouts, sure, but he never actually says anything hurtful or holds it against Kakashi.

He’s kind of like Minato in that way. Kakashi has never quite managed to push his sensei away either, even when he had given it his absolute best shot for almost the entirety of the first year he had been under Minato’s care. Minato had stayed through everything Kakashi tried to throw at him. Through every test and trial and the odd assassination attempt where Kakashi lay in wait for Minato to give up on him, Minato had stayed.

It had thrown him off balance back then with his mentor, and it throws him off balance now with Raijin.

Something about him is still so painfully familiar; it eats away at Kakashi, catching him off guard whenever he least expects it. He doesn’t know why he feels safe or comforted by a man he doesn’t want to trust. He doesn’t get it.

“Yo, Kakashi!” Raijin calls from the campfire they’ve built outside their tents, arm waving in a wide arc as he grins wide, eyes closed. “Get your head out of those books and come hang out with us!”

Instinctively, Kakashi scowls. ‘Those books’ happen to be ones about advanced chakra theory that Raijin himself had lent him, pulled from a seal on his forearm that looks like gears of a clock left to float among sprawling constellations of kanji instead of stars.

He opens his mouth to say “Go away” or “I’m busy” or “I don’t even like you.” But Raijin is tapping his foot with feigned impatience and patting the space beside himself on the log he has claimed. He’s wearing a black haori over an orange kimono shirt today and, for some reason, something about the colours or the image is giving Kakashi some pause. The strange sense of déjà vu hits him again and Kakashi sighs, closing the book and standing up to just go join his team. He shoots a scathing look at Raijin when the man starts looking too pleased about successfully pulling Kakashi into the fold, but he also doesn’t protest when Raijin hands him a packet of the fancy jerky they’d stolen from a Kumo camp with a wink and a smile.

‘It’s a bribe,’ he thinks, staring at the packet, ‘or a reward for good behaviour.’

He should feel outraged at being treated like a puppy or some kind of toddler, but mostly, he just feels a sort of detached amusement.

(It might also just be fondness.)

Hyuuga Daisuke ropes him into a conversation about the different taijutsu forms across the nations and Kakashi allows it. Beside him, Raijin throws his head back and laughs so hard at something Akimichi Kumiko just said that it sends him careening into Kakashi’s side. Kakashi allows that too.

Begrudgingly, as days turn into weeks, he finds that Raijin has carved out a mantle for himself in Kakashi’s eyes that isn’t just ‘Possible Spy’, ‘Pain in the Neck’, ‘Obito’s Saviour’ or ‘Minato-sensei’s Brother’.

They spar together and train as a team. They work on genjutsu based seals. They work or read in companiable silence. They bicker and argue. They share their meals. They wake each other up from nightmares and stay until the other has calmed down again.

Despite his best efforts, Kakashi is drawn out—a sunflower looking to the sun. Raijin pulls him right into his orbit and Kakashi can no longer find it in himself to resist the comfort of the man’s magnetism.

Because that’s what it is. He finds Raijin comforting. He feels seen and heard and known in a way that shouldn’t be possible for someone who hasn’t known him all his life. As disorienting and terrifying as that is, it is also incredibly difficult to resist. Vulnerability is a terrifying prospect for shinobi, and yet, it is a tantalising idea that hangs just out of reach up until, all of a sudden, it doesn't.

And he can’t explain it. Kakashi doesn’t ever tell Raijin anything about himself. He doesn’t have to either; it’s like Raijin already knows.

He wonders if Obito and Minato feel the same way about Raijin. 

Is it only Kakashi who is stuck in the dissonance of it all?

‘No,’ he thinks, mulling over every interaction he can remember having with Raijin. He isn’t the only one. Raijin is the same. He’s just as stuck as Kakashi even if it is over something different.

There are moments when Raijin thinks no one is looking, where the blond suddenly gets quiet and contemplative. His chakra streaks through with something dense and heavy. Moments where Raijin looks caught off guard seemingly out of nowhere; like he is looking out at ghosts. Sometimes Kakashi will say or do something and Raijin will just stare at him for a second, struck dumb for whatever reason is known only to him; seeing someone else, stuck in a time past.

He wonders sometimes who Raijin sees when he looks at Kakashi like that.

With the way things are going, he thinks he might even get to find out one day, and the thought of that has his head spinning. He can’t even pinpoint when exactly his wariness turned into a fruitless endeavour that he gave up on before he even realised what he was doing.

Kakashi stops pushing Raijin’s buttons and, instead, fumbles through the beginnings of what he thinks might be friendship. Raijin smiles and laughs and ruffles his hair and stays through it all.

Or that is what he is supposed to be doing anyway.

Except, here they are now—the two of them fleeing from who knows how many Kumo shinobi after having been compromised on a mission to intercept an important missive from the Raikage to the Lightning Daimyo. Kakashi suspects a leak but that will hardly matter in the grand scheme of things if they were to die right now.

His knee is definitely sprained, if not outright fractured, pain lancing right through it and up to his fucking skull every time it is jostled while Raijin throws himself over forests and cliffs with Kakashi on his back.

“It’s no good,” the captain comments through gritted teeth, barely audible over the wind whistling in Kakashi’s ears. “We can’t lead them to the rendezvous point and put the others at risk.”

The pathetic, helpless eleven-year-old in Kakashi kind of wants to cry. He wants to cling onto Raijin even tighter. He wants to go home. He wants to see Minato, Rin and Obito.

They have what feels like the entire village of Kumogakure on their heels and nowhere to go. Kakashi’s chakra is flagging, his ribs hurt and so does his knee, and he knows he isn’t going to be much good as any sort of backup to Raijin.

“You should ditch me,” he announces pragmatically, even though the thought makes his gut churn violently enough that it makes him want to throw up. Although that might also be his dwindling chakra reserves combined with motion sickness. It’s not like he’s thrilled that their only option is leaving him to the tender mercies of the Village Hidden in the Clouds, but there’s also not much else they can do.

At least without Kakashi acting as deadweight, Raijin stands a chance of getting away safely. Kakashi can still pull off some sort of distraction to buy time, he’s sure. He’ll do his best anyway.

The mission will succeed and, more importantly, Raijin will have a shot at surviving.

“What if I screw up and your brother is the one who gets hurt this time?” he had asked Minato.

Well, Kakashi is done forcing other people to clean up his messes. He isn't interested in finding out the answer to the hypothetical question he'd posed to his teacher.

“You should leave me,” he repeats, wheezing when Raijin’s next jump is supremely unkind to Kakashi’s broken ribs. “I’m only holding you back.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Raijin seethes. “I’d rather die.”

Rolling his eyes, Kakashi drawls, “You’re going to get your wish with the way things are looking. We’re both going to die at this rate.”

The exertion of speech has him breathless, and Kakashi coughs, trying to push air into his lungs futilely, his vision going dark for a second as he tries to inhale painfully. He blinks away the spots dancing before his eyes, and then blinks again at the dark stain he has just left on Raijin’s flak jacket.

“I’m bleeding,” he says helpfully.

“I know, Kakashi.”

“No,” he insists, “I meant internally.”

That brings Raijin to an abrupt pause. He cranes his neck to glance at the metallic tasting blood still clinging to Kakashi’s mouth and curses. Their pursuers must only be a few minutes behind them, and they really can’t afford to stop and risk capture. Still, Raijin ducks into the very first cave he can spot and crouches in the tight space.

Kakashi takes the cue and lets go, allowing the older ninja to gently lower him to the ground. “You could make it without me,” he states.

Raijin clicks his tongue. “I’m not going to,” he maintains firmly.

Is this how his dad had been? Is Kakashi going to end up like Obito in that cave, sans subsequent abduction?

Hysterically, he thinks that if he gives Obito’s sharingan to Raijin, that will legally make him an Uchiha too and probably give Minato an aneurysm. The Sandaime might just drop dead instantly from the stress alone.

“You can either run away or you can fight them,” Kakashi forces out, unable to keep from crying out as Raijin splints his knee with makeshift supplies from the seal wrapped around his wrist. “You can’t do either with me around.”

Raijin bites his lip. His eyes are wide and almost unnaturally bright as he looks down at Kakashi. “You’re right,” he says after a moment.

Kakashi’s heart sinks even as he nods. He knows he’s right. That’s why he’d said it at all. Still—

“I have an idea.” Raijin pulls a scroll out of his seal and bites his thumb, smearing his blood across and slamming his palm onto it.

Kakashi blinks as the biggest fox he has ever seen emerges from the scroll in a cloud of smoke. Roughly four feet tall, with pitch black fur streaked through with patches of silver, it studies them with unnervingly intelligent amber eyes. ‘A summon,’ his brain supplies belatedly, which also cues him in on the fact that he’s losing coherence quickly, meaning it’s only a matter of time before he straight up passes out.

“You’re injured, so I didn’t want to have to do this,” Raijin grimaces, gentle fingers smoothing Kakashi’s hair away from his face, “but it looks like we don’t have much of a choice, Kakashi-kun.”

The fox regards them with a solemn sort of air to it. “What is going on, kit?” it—he—asks.

Raijin sighs and scratches behind the fox’s ear. “I’m going to need your help, Shuu-san,” he says. “Do you think you could carry Kakashi to safety while I deal with the guys after us?”

Panic strikes Kakashi, startling him back to full awareness. “What?” he demands. “You’re actually going to fight? You can’t—there’s hundreds of them!”

Regarding him with a grim smile, Raijin pats Kakashi’s cheek. “Don’t worry about me, Kakashi. I’ll be fine.”

He says it with a confidence that Kakashi can’t feel. How could he say he’ll be fine when he is so outnumbered and stuck in hostile territory where enemy reinforcements are only a moment away? How could he say he will be fine when Kakashi knows that Raijin probably sustains injuries of his own?

“Leave it to me, Rai-chan,” the fox—Shuu—assures his summoner. “I will make sure the child stays unharmed.”

“Thank you, Shuu-san,” Raijin breathes, briefly pressing his forehead to the fox’s in gratitude. “I’ll have two clones lead you to the rendezvous point where the rest of my team should be waiting. Kakashi needs medical attention as soon as possible.”

“Understood.”

Kakashi grits his teeth in fear annoyance. “You can’t fight,” he insists. “That’s practically a suicide mission!”

“I’ll be fine,” Raijin says again, completely at ease.

“Think about Minato-sensei” he wants to say. “What about Obito and Kushina-san? What about me?”

But Raijin simply creates two clones as promised before easing out of their little nook and turning back in the direction that they came from, running towards their attackers, before Kakashi can so much as string his thoughts into speech.

Left in the cave with a fox that regards him with too-knowing eyes, Kakashi stares blankly at the opening that Raijin had just left through.

Numbly, he says, “You were supposed to stay.”

'Gyuuki’s nearby,' Kurama pipes up helpfully, watching idly as Raijin dispatches two more of his opponents with targeted nerve strikes.

'What the fuck,' Raijin says back, deadpan, head immediately swivelling around to try and catch sight of the Eight Tails and its jinchuuriki. 'B-jii-chan can leave the village? Why the hell is he here?!'

Kurama huffs and shakes his head. 'Beats me. I wasn’t exactly in touch with my siblings around this time.'

Groaning, Raijin ducks under a kunai that sails overhead and promptly roundhouse kicks its owner in the head. He’s trying to just knock his pursuers out for now, aiming for pressure points and concussive hits that take them out of the picture temporarily; just enough for him to get away.

Not for the first time, he wishes he could have had the crazy chakra control required to power Minato's Hiraishin jutsu. Raijin’s life would be so much easier if he could just literally teleport away from ever major inconvenience. Alas, given the wonky hold he has on his chakra, Raijin will likely never be able to attempt the technique without potentially hurtling himself straight into the endless liminal space of the universe.

He’s just going to have to face his problems like a boring grown up because no one ever lets him have any fun.

With a pout, he takes to the trees as soon as he makes it to the edge of the forest, decidedly leading the manhunt away from the direction Kakashi and Shuu went in. They will need a few hours’ head start at the very least, which makes it Raijin’s job to keep their pursuers thoroughly engaged until his mini-sensei can make it to safety.

He has no real plan, but that’s okay; Raijin rarely ever does unless world-altering time travel happens to be involved. He’s the improviser of all improvisers. He can totally do this.

First, he just has to attract all their attention and keep them engaged in combat with him so they’re distracted. Then, he’s going to get away as soon as there’s a lull so he can set up every trap and trick known to man and turn the forest into his personal playground from hell. The Kumo nin are going to go on the wildest goose chase of their lives if things work out the way Raijin is starting to picture them.

What he refuses to picture is any sort of confrontation with Killer B. Now, take a guess as to just who is waiting to jump out at him from among the trees.

Of course, as usual, nothing ever truly goes his way.

Raijin wonders if B will mind if he just sits down right here on the forest ground and has a minor breakdown about the continual degradation of his luck. He literally just had to almost relive the events that led to his Kakashi's death with a tinier version of him, and now this? Seriously, he thinks he deserves a good cry. As a little treat, you know. He has got to get that emotional catharsis somehow. Shinobi mental health for the win and all.

Raijin comes to a stop, stares blankly at the much younger face of Killer B, and lets out a heartfelt sigh from deep within his soul. “After this,” he announces, “I’m going to fistfight god.”

B blinks, looking taken aback by the random declaration. “What a strange thing to say.” He shrugs and brandishes one of his swords. “I’m about to put this fool in his place! Fool, ya fool!”

Fuck, Raijin is going to cry because he missed B’s stupid raps so much and it’s going to be totally mortifying and then he’ll have to scale the tallest mountain in Lightning and fling himself right off it to redeem his honour.

Sniffling, Raijin lowers himself into a ready stance and slips his hand into the pouch strapped to his thigh, grasping at a seal even as he violently blinks the tears out of his eyes.

B gives him a weird look. “Are you crying, fool?”

“Am not,” Raijin denies, blatantly crying. “You’re going senile and blind because you’re old and that’s what old people do, jii-chan.”

The gasp B lets out is one of genuine affront. “Killer B ain’t old!” he insists. “My skills got no mould! I’m going to leave this brat out in the cold!”

To his credit, B really isn’t that old. Raijin doesn’t actually know how old the guy had been in his own time, but he has to be in his mid-twenties right now. He doesn’t even have a beard yet. That’s, like, super young. Which would explain why his raps seem even worse than Raijin remembers them being. Clearly, despite popular opinion and against all odds, B really had improved his rapping skills over the years.

Maybe miracles do happen after all.

Well, whatever. Raijin can do a mental deepdive on B’s musical growth over the years in his own time; preferably when he doesn’t have an offended jinchuuriki trying to stab him with fancy swords, or octopus arms making to grab and launch him into the stratosphere, all while he’s still trying to keep his own jinchuuriki status under wraps.

Leaping out of the way, Raijin springboards off one of Gyuuki’s arms and sticks a seal to the nearest tree before jumping back out of the fray for when he pulses chakra into the seal. The tree explodes, splintering and sending shards of wood, sparks and smoke everywhere, forcing B to put distance between them unless he fancies getting his eye taken out by a tree.

Raijin grins viciously as B jumps right into the range of the other trees he marked while dodging Gyuuki’s tentacles. He’s pretty sure at least one of them is just harmless confetti and glitter, but he didn’t exactly have time to stop and pick out which seals he’d use. Oh, well.

Hopefully, B wouldn’t mind rocking the glittery purple aesthetic Raijin curated especially as an homage to Yamanaka Ino.

“You can totally pull off purple glitter, jii-chan! Believe it!”

“You’re crazy, fool! Ya fool!”

“Have you heard?” Chouza remarks, refilling Shikaku’s empty sake cup. “They’re saying the war is all but over.”

As though that isn’t the precise reason the three of them have gravitated to Chouza’s engawa for a few rounds of sake tonight.

Inoichi snorts and pops an edamame bean into his mouth. “With Iwagaure’s old oni finally agreeing to sign the damn peace treaty, it sure feels like it.”

Shikaku smiles wryly, watching lazy wisps of clouds as they drift over to thinly veil the full moon. “And it only took him suffering the gravest loss of this war to do it.”

Chuckling, Chouza shakes his head. “I bet he didn’t expect an entire brigade of over a thousand to lose to a mere platoon of fifteen.”

“I can’t even blame him,” Inoichi comments, huffing. “Namikaze sure is something.” He downs the contents of his cup. “If they don’t make him Kage after this, the people might just riot.”

“Orochimaru-sama is still a Sannin,” Chouza argues, but it’s in vain. All of them know the likely outcome, and with Minato almost singlehandedly wrangling them into peace, it has only become that much clearer.

With a sigh, Shikaku pushes himself to sit up straight so he can reach for the ikura. “A Sannin might have been enough for the Daimyo’s approval if the competition had been anyone else,” he says. “Minato just has the higher appeal.”

“That brother of his certainly sweetens the deal,” Inoichi remarks candidly, lobbing an empty edamame pod at Shikaku’s head because he’s just an asshole like that.

Shikaku lets the pod hit him in the face. Dodging it would be too much work.

Chouza watches them with amusement. “You think so?” he directs at Inoichi.

“Sure.” Inoichi shrugs, idly tossing another empty pod at Shikaku. “The brother might not have defeated a thousand soldiers in one go, but people are saying he pretty much systematically harassed Kumo until they gave in and agreed to signing a treaty.”

Scoffing, Shikaku chucks a pod right back at Inoichi who dodges it. “Allegedly, he fought Kumo’s jinchuuriki to a standstill, held off a force of five hundred for nine hours by himself on their home turf, and still managed to get away pretty much unscathed.”

Inoichi frowns, peering over at him. “Why are you using ‘allegedly’? As if our esteemed future jounin commander hasn’t already read the mission report.”

Shikaku hides a smile behind his cup. “How else am I supposed to maintain my mystique?”

“I can't believe those words actually just came out of your mouth.”

Chouza laughs, leaning his weight back against his hands so he can look up at the sky. “Conversely, I suppose, Orochimaru-sama brings no such connection to sweeten the deal in his favour.”

“It’s not just about the connection,” Shikaku shakes his head, “although networking is a nice way to boost any potential political leader’s resume. In this case, at least, it’s more about the drama.”

Inoichi hums, nodding slowly, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “They’d have an easy time turning a purely military achievement into something emotionally palatable to appeal to our civilian overlord if they choose Minato.”

Chouza tilts his head, sipping at his sake. “Well, it certainly does sound poetic.” He closes his eyes and smiles. “Two shinobi brothers from humble civilian origins, separated from birth but brought together by fate, at the helm of bringing their nation to peace and prosperity. I’d watch if they ever make it into a play.”

“Minato driving back a thousand ninja sounds like something straight out of the Tale of the Heike,” Shikaku agrees. “The civilians will eat it right up. We’re going to need that kind of boost to our popularity to recover from the war economically.”

“Man,” Inoichi sighs, slouching over and raising his cup, “it sure is nice to finally get to talk about aftereffects. It’s finally starting to feel like it’s really over.”

Shikaku groans and falls back, squeezing his eyes shut against the world at large. “Is it really? There are still treaties to finalise, and there’s going to be meeting after meeting while the Kage all gather to try and push blame onto one another like squabbling children so their village won’t have as many reparations to pay. Border skirmishes probably won’t stop for another couple of years. Trade won’t stabilise any time soon either. Konoha is going to have to take on another debt to pay off the expenses we’ve incurred this whole time being at war. We’re only getting started.”

“Sure,” Chouza allows gently, “but at least we are no longer actively fighting one another. Peace is finally within reach.”

That has Shikaku’s eyes slowly opening again. “Yeah,” he breathes. “You’re right.”

Inoichi smiles wryly down at his cup. “Peace, huh?” He tilts his head back, sighing at the cool breeze that blows past them lightly. “Sure sounds good to me.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Chouza smiles.

They bask in silence for a while, allowing the idea to sink in. No more frontline battles and overwhelming losses. No more missions to carry body bags of fallen shinobi back to the village. No more promoting genin too early so they have more bodies willing to die for the village on the battlefield. Finally, they will be allowed to rest.

It is Inoichi who finally breaks the comfortable silence. “Who do you think they’ll blame this time?” he asks.

“Not Suna,” Chouza responds immediately. “They really did stay out of this one.”

Inoichi snorts. “I mean, after they got blamed for the last war, it would probably be kind of unfair too.”

“I’m going to become a missing nin if it’s Konoha,” Shikaku announces.

Making good use of his long limbs, Chouza reaches over to smack him in the face. “Don’t even say stuff like that!”

Undeterred, Shikaku insists, “I really will quit my job and leave the continent. I am not sticking around to clean up that mess. It would seriously put us underground if the other villages made us cough up that kind of money when we barely have enough to keep everyone clothed and fed. Especially with winter almost upon us.”

Cheerfully, Inoichi tosses in, “I bet it’s going to be the oni! Fuck that old geezer.”

Shikaku lifts his head just enough to peer over at his friend. “Why are you in a one-sided feud with the Tsuchikage?”

Inoichi shrugs. “For fun.”

Chouza bursts into a full-bellied laugh, accidentally knocking over his cup with how hard he smacks the table. “I’ll never understand you, old friend.”

“You should try it,” Inoichi insists, grinning, eyes bright. “It keeps things entertaining.”

“Hard pass.”

“You only say that because you’ve never had a day of fun in your life, Shikaku.”

“Now, now, Inoichi, just because it’s true doesn’t mean you should say it.”

“I’m going to spit in your cups next time.”

Chapter Text

Just because the war is over doesn’t mean the work of the shinobi is.

There is so much cleaning up to do in the aftermath, endless high stakes courier missions containing important treaties and missives, and continuous surveillance requests. No one quite trusts the peace yet. A lot of people don’t even really like the idea of it, and the several little uprisings that need to be quelled before they can take off are a testament to that.

Needless to say, Minato finds himself running on fumes very quickly.

As one of the highest ranking commanding officers in Konoha’s forces and an upcoming leader, he is somehow needed everywhere all at once. He has really been living up to the whole Yellow Flash moniker with the way he has had to flit in and out of the village at breakneck speeds.

Obito had taken one look at him just last week and winced because apparently Minato’s bags had bags of their own. “I guess even you don’t look like a pretty boy all the time, huh, sensei?” he’d said, and Minato had very earnestly contemplated drowning himself in the sad little puddle of leftover ramen broth in his bowl.

But, heedless to his exhaustion, life goes on. Minato can only go along with it and do his very best as he has always done.

In some ways, he is pretty sure the Sandaime is testing him and using this time to teach Minato some of the more high stakes decision making involved in being Hokage before any actual announcement regarding the Yondaime Hokage nomination goes out. Hiruzen sends Minato on endless bureaucratic missions to all the civilian villages and towns Konoha caused damage to or is looking to form ties with to broker agreements and alliances. He pushes to include Minato in as many meetings as possible whenever he attends conferences with the other villages’ leaders to form new peace treaties. Minato is tasked with leading all the new schemes meant to ease the population of Konoha into their fragile peace so he can build a rapport with the civilians.

It is an ungodly amount of work, yes, but Minato is also grateful. He can see how Hiruzen is striving to make him the face of this new era that promises prosperity and growth, and it would be foolish to start openly complaining about the opportunities being handed to him on a silver platter. It is good to know that his dream is openly being supported by a leader as beloved as Sarutobi Hiruzen.

“What do you think makes the Sandaime so well liked?” Minato wonders aloud.

Across from him, sitting on the other side of the foldable little magnetic shogi board, Nara Shikaku looks up with a thoughtful frown. “Why are you suddenly asking?”

Minato shrugs, turning his attention back to the game. He’ll lose in another twelve moves if this keeps up. Hopefully Shikaku will leave his knight alone for another two moves so he can mount a possible counter.

Sighing, Shikaku captures Minato’s knight in the very next turn and soundly ignores the scowl that immediately gets sent his way. “It’s hard to dislike someone who managed to get us through two whole wars in relatively one piece. He’s a strong shinobi, he’s a stronger strategist, and he’s an involved leader who actually tries to listen to and address what the people have to say. The civilians love him even more than the shinobi do, and for good reason.”

“Go on,” Minato prompts, moving a pawn so he can make a bid for control over the center of the board.

“For one, he made sure that the war barely touched the village despite Konoha’s open position. All the other villages have natural defenses like desserts, mountains or water bodies. On the other hand, Konoha is downright accessible with only the Forest of Death serving as a natural defense, and we still never had to fight off a large scale frontal assault that threatened our homes,” Shikaku explains. “Secondly, he’s good at appealing to civilian values.”

“Oh?”

Nodding, he elaborates, “Hokage-sama has had the most inclusive legislation when compared to his predecessors. He’s the one who established all the different tiers to the civilian council and gave them a seat at the main council. The civilian council is pretty much entirely responsible for civilian decision making and the Sandaime is the one to have given them that much power. He also actually bothered to invest in trade, arts and technology before we had to close the borders. And, of course, he’s a Sarutobi.”

Minato raises a brow at that. “I didn’t realise the Sarutobi clan has special status among civilians.”

Shikaku smiles thinly at him. “To be fair, it’s kind of old news so you might have never heard. The Sarutobi started off as vassals to the Akimichi, you know.”

“Wait, really?” Minato blinks. “I know that the Nara and Yamanaka had been vassals to the Akimichi, but I didn’t realise the Sarutobi clan had been under them as well.”

“Like I said,” Shikaku shrugs, “it’s really old news. Eventually, they became independently strong enough that they split off and became a force of their own almost a century before the idea of a shinobi village was ever even conceived. They never quite made it to noble clan status, but the Sarutobi were popular among the civilians back then because they were excellent merchants. That reputation follows them even now.”

Minato makes a thoughtful sound and captures Shikaku’s rook. “I never knew.”

“Shinobi call Hokage-sama ‘The Professor’ for his extensive knowledge of jutsu. The civilians do it because the man is one hell of an economist.”

Lips twitching, Minato raises both his eyebrows. “You come up with that yourself?”

Shikaku returns the smile with a dry one of his own. “Heard my old man say that once actually.” Smile widening, he gestures at the board. “That’s check by the way. Better focus before I win again, blondie.”

Minato rolls his eyes but does as asked. “You should be nicer, Shikaku-kun,” he comments mildly. “I could have just refused when you asked for a match. Tomorrow is probably the most important meeting either of us will ever attend.”

“It’s just going to be a bunch of old farts sitting around and pointing fingers,” Shikaku snorts, leaning back in his chair.

Well, that certainly is one way to describe the Paradise Isles Conventions.

“Besides,” Shikaku adds knowingly, “you would have refused if you didn’t want to. Don’t act coy with me, Namikaze.”

Fair enough. Minato has escaped Shikaku’s attempts to coerce him into a game on more than occasion, and he has utilised questionable means unflinchingly to do it too. Nothing is quite as mentally exhausting as playing against Nara Shikaku. The man openly psychoanalyses his opponents for personal amusement; it gets old very quickly.

“I’m just making nice with our new esteemed jounin commander.”

Snorting, Shikaku makes a face. “So, you only care when you want to use me somehow. How cruel, Namikaze-kun.”

Minato moves his gold general to put Shikaku’s king into check. “Now you’re the one playing coy, Nara-dono.” Shikaku scoffs and moves his bishop to threaten Minato’s gold general. “How long do you think these meetings will last?”

“Too long,” comes the immediate response. “At least a week, but almost definitely longer than that. It’s going to be a drag.” Sighing, Shikaku puts Minato’s king in check again. “Well, it’s not like I could refuse.”

“For someone who complains about it, you do always get the work done, Shikaku-san,” Minato muses aloud. He smiles, eyes closed. “I see why Hokage-sama favours you so much.”

Eyebrows shooting up, Shikaku slumps even further in his seat. “You are the last person I want to hear that from,” he says blankly. “I’d probably complain a lot more if you weren’t here to be honest.”

“I’m flattered, truly.”

“Nothing was going to make me miss out on seeing Onoki’s face when he realises that you’re here,” Shikaku continues. “Inoichi wants to see my memory of it too. Apparently, he’s feuding with the Tsuchikage for fun these days.”

Minato sighs, shoulders dropping. “I was worried about that. I resign by the way.”

Shikaku looks at him weirdly even as he clears the board. “You were worried about Inoichi beefing with the Tsuchikage?”

Eyes squinting, Minato stares back. “What? No. I was worried about the Tsuchikage making things difficult for us because I’m here.”

“Ah.” Shikaku nods. “I wouldn’t be too concerned honestly. He might try, but I have a good feeling that the Kazekage is going to be out for the old man’s blood this time.”

Intrigued, Minato leans forward. “You know, Raijin mentioned something very similar once.”

“He’s surprisingly insightful like that, that brother of yours,” Shikaku notes, eyes narrowing. “I heard he’s on scouting missions right now.”

“With Kakashi,” Minato confirms. “They’re sticking together for now.”

“I figured as much. It's standard protocol for traumatised soldiers to be assigned together when we can afford it.” Smiling wryly, Shikaku adds, “It’s nice being back to standard protocol again.”

With a sigh, Minato scratches at his cheek. “Well, I’m glad they can look out for each other out there. It’d be nice if I could at least see them once, but I expect it will be another month before that can happen.”

“To think it will be winter by then.”

“Time sure flies by,” Minato agrees. “We should probably call it a night too, Shikaku-san. The meeting is bright and early tomorrow after all.”

Shikaku hums, stretching out in his seat before rising to his feet. “Indeed. Got to be awake if I want to see the Yondaime Kazekage rip Onoki a new one.”

“You’re surprisingly sadistic, huh, Shikaku-san?”

“Life is all about finding joy in the little things, Minato-kun.”

“Whatever you say, esteemed jounin commander.”

Travelling with a baby version of Kakashi who will never grow up to become the man who had been Raijin’s sensei is supremely strange.

Travelling with a baby version of Kakashi who is kind of traumatised and has nightmares about Raijin dying every now and then is decidedly stranger.

Honestly, they’re both kind of fucked up about each other and the whole time travel thing just adds a whole new layer of emotional disaster to it that would probably make any emotionally healthy adult cry tears of pity for them.

Naturally, because they are both shinobi, neither of them does anything emotionally healthy like—y’know—talk about it or something. Instead, they bicker and bite and generally try to get on each other’s nerves as much as possible to cope.

“We’re lost,” Kakashi states, arms crossed like the bratty little preteen that he is.

“We’re not lost,” Raijin insists. “I know exactly where we are!”

“Oh, yeah?” the little shit challenges. “Well, then, where are we?”

Raijin pauses, lips pressed into a thin line.

Even with most of his face covered, Kakashi manages to look smug. “See—we are lost.”

Okay, fine, so maybe they’re kind of lost. It’s not Raijin’s fault that apparently travel routes change over time. How was he supposed to know that they were supposed to go right instead of left?

“I told you we were supposed to go right instead of left, and you didn’t listen to me.”

That’s totally beside the point!

Crossing his own arms, Raijin looks away, cheeks puffed out. “I am not claiming responsibility for this.”

“It’d be the adult thing to do.”

“Well, maybe I don’t identify as an adult,” Raijin huffs. “Ever thought of that, Kakashi-kun?”

Kakashi has the gall to scoff at him. “Raijin-san, no one identifies you as an adult.”

“Hey!”

“I just had a totally amazing idea,” Raijin declares.

Rolling his eye, Kakashi mutters, “Oh, boy.”

“Trust me—this is going to work!”

“Rai—” Kakashi stops, gaping as he watches Raijin prance off. “We are not asking a frog for directions.”

“It’s a toad, Kakashi-kun. Educate yourself.”

“Ah, my bad. Now that I’m looking, it is markedly more hideous looking.”

Pointing his finger, Raijin gasps in outrage. “You take that back! Toads are adorable.”

“How is that I have one eye covered and, somehow, you’re still clearly the blinder one?”

“It is cute!”

“We’ll take a room for two please,” Raijin requests, pulling out his cute little fox themed wallet to count out the amount that the lady who is manning the counter at the inn tells him.

“How long will you be staying?” she asks, scrawling out the fake name Raijin provides her with into her register.

Leaning back onto the balls of his feet, Raijin chirps, “Two nights!”

Beside him, Kakashi scowls and aims a kick at his shin to violently bring him back down on his feet proper. “Stop that,” he hisses.

“Ow!” Raijin whines. “Do you have to be so violent all the time?”

“After you got us lost in the woods for an entire day,” Kakashi says scathingly, “you should be glad I haven’t tried to stab you yet.”

The lady behind the counter chuckles as she looks between them, shaking her head when she earns twin stares of confusion from the boys. “I’m sorry,” she says, waving a hand, “you two remind me so much of my own boys. They were always bickering when they were younger too, you know. They’re all grown up now, so I finally have some peace in the house, but I do miss the noise sometimes.” She smiles at them kindly. “It’s always good to see brothers who are close.”

“We’re not—” Kakashi starts to say impatiently before he promptly gets cut off by Raijin violently pulling him into his side with an arm around the neck.

“Yup!” the blond beams. “That’s us! Super close!” Smoothly ignoring the way Kakashi is staring at him in disbelief, Raijin leans closer to the counter. “Say, ba-chan, how old are your kids now?”

“Oh,” she sighs, “they’re both in their thirties now. And you boys? How old are you?”

Sighing, Kakashi says, “Twelve.”

“I’m twenty.”

The lady blinks. “Quite far apart then. What brings you out to our town?”

“Just a quick stop,” Raijin informs. “We’re going to the Land of Hot Water! I promised my cute little brother here a trip to the best hot springs, and I finally have enough time off work to do it.”

Clapping her hands together, the woman says, “How wonderful!”

Meanwhile, Kakashi narrows his eye. “Cute little brother.”

He is ignored.

“And what do you do, dear?”

“Calligraphy?” Raijin throws out. “Yeah! Calligraphy!”

“Oh, my! And you’re so young too! Tell you what,” the lady leans forward conspiratorially, “if you do a piece for our inn, I’ll throw in free breakfast for the both of you. I heard the fancy hotels in the capital hire calligraphists all the time.”

“You’re the best, ba-chan!”

“It’s a deal then!”

Ten minutes later, they’re both up in their room with a complimentary lunch on the little table set by the large window that overlooks the market below, and Kakashi is staring at Raijin with all the judgement that the gods have bestowed upon his twelve-year-old body.

With a shake of his head, he declares, “You’re a con artist.”

Raijin frowns at him. “I’m just good with people,” he refutes. “I did learn calligraphy for fuuinjutsu, you know. It’s not far from the truth.” Blinking as a new thought occurs to him, he tilts his head. “Hey, when did you turn twelve?”

“September,” Kakashi answers. “When did you turn twenty?”

“October.”

They both stare at each other, realising both birthdays were spent while on a battlefront.

“Minato-sensei might cry if you tell him,” Kakashi states, flopping down onto his bed.

Raijin blinks. “What? Why?”

Lifting his head to stare at the elder shinobi blankly, Kakashi drawls, “He missed the first birthday he could have celebrated with his newly found brother and totally forgot about it. He’s going to be guilty as hell.”

Raijin flounders, a sense of foreboding creeping over him. He sees a teary older brother being overbearing and apologetic in his future. It’s not looking good. “Well, I don’t think he even knew,” he tries and immediately cringes.

“That makes it worse,” Kakashi snorts.

“He missed your birthday too!”

Crossing his arms behind his head, Kakashi closes his eyes. “He sent me a letter and gave me a present later. Face it: he’s going to cry.”

“Do you always have to try and be like this?”

“Correct? No, it comes naturally to me.”

“Smartass.”

Raijin wakes up to the sound of muted whimpering and pained gasping, and is rolling out of bed before his brain even manages to fully shake off the cobwebs of sleep.

Sad as it is, this isn’t new. By now, he knows what to do.

He pads over to Kakashi’s bed and drops to his knees beside it, careful to keep his weight off and his hands out of the way lest he scare the boy awake. “Kakashi-kun,” he whispers, reaching with his chakra instead. “Kakashi-kun, wake up. It’s just a dream, kiddo. You have to wake up.”

As always, Kakashi startles awake, eyes swivelling wildly, sharingan spinning. He relaxes much faster these days when he spots Raijin hovering at his bedside, shoulders drooping and allowing his head to drop back onto his pillow.

“It’s okay,” Raijin whispers, reaching out to take Kakashi’s clammy hand into his own. Kakashi is trembling ever so slightly. “It was just a dream. It’s over now.”

“You left,” Kakashi croaks out, staring at the ceiling as if that will keep Raijin from noticing the tears pooling in his eyes. “You left. You could have died.”

It’s not the first time they’ve had this conversation either. It never really goes anywhere.

“I know.” Raijin presses his forehead to Kakashi’s hand. “I know. I’m sorry I scared you, Kakashi-kun.”

“We waited for hours,” Kakashi tells him. “Hours. And you never showed up. And they made me leave and—” he cuts off when his voice breaks, turning his face away. “I thought you were dead. I kept thinking about what I would say to Minato-sensei. How I could never face him again because his only brother would be dead, and it’d be my fault.”

“It wouldn’t have been your fault, Kakashi,” Raijin says softly. “It was my choice. My decision as team captain. You’re not to blame for that.”

But Kakashi isn’t listening. Instead, he whispers, “First, it was Obito. Then, you. I’m the common denominator. It was my fault.”

Raijin’s heart aches so viscerally, he almost wants to tear it out to see if that will ease the pain. At the time, the only thing he’d been thinking about was how he would do anything to not have to lose Kakashi again. How he wouldn’t be able to survive if he had to relive carrying an injured Kakashi away from pursuing foe and then failing to make it in time for his sensei to be alive by the end of it. How Raijin would die right along with Kakashi if he had to ever hold him while the life drained out of him again.

He doesn’t think he would change anything even if he could, but he does regret the pain he put Kakashi through. If Raijin could take the pain away from this kid, he would. It hangs salty and thick in the air now between them and all Raijin can do is squeeze Kakashi’s hand.

“I’m sorry, Kakashi,” is the only thing he has to offer. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, kiddo. It’s not. And I’m sorry that my decision made you feel that way.”

Kakashi turns to look at him, eyes blazing and face twisted. It is jarring to see a version of Kakashi that isn’t quite so strict about who sees his face once he deems them safe apparently. It’s jarring to see him so young. It hurts to see him in so much pain even at this age.

“But you’re not sorry about leaving,” Kakashi states, voice raw and thick. He doesn’t actually cry—he never does.

Lips pursed, Raijin doesn’t deny it. “No,” he admits, “I’m not sorry about that. It was all I could do to get you to safety at the time.”

Kakashi wrenches his hand from Raijin’s hold so he can dig the heels of palms to his eyes as he exhales shakily. “It’s not worth it. I'm not—”

“You are worth it,” Raijin interrupts him smoothly, gently pulling Kakashi’s hands from his face. “I—I needed you to make it out of there alive. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.”

Levelling him with a glare, Kakashi spits out, “But you’d force me to live with the weight of your death hanging over my shoulders?”

Raijin falters. “I’m sorry for being unfair to you, Kakashi-kun.”

“But you’re not sorry about leaving,” Kakashi repeats.

“No. I guess that makes me really selfish, huh?”

Scoffing, Kakashi turns his face away again. “It makes you an asshole,” he corrects agitatedly. “You’re a dick, Raijin-san.”

“Sorry.”

“I hate you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shut up,” Kakashi hisses, shooting up so he can twist and glare at him fully. “You’re not sorry so stop saying it. You don’t mean it.”

Raijin tilts his head. “I do. I’m not sorry for leaving but I am sorry that my decision is hurting you so much now.”

Kakashi falters. He isn’t used to regulating his expressions when his face is hidden away all the time. Raijin can see every emotion he feels pass right over it. “I’m—I’m not hurt. I just—”

“It’s okay, Kakashi-kun,” Raijin says gently. “It’s okay for you to be upset about what I did and be affected by it. I did hurt you.”

“No, you—” Kakashi shakes his head. “I’m not—”

“Okay,” Raijin concedes, thumb stroking the back of Kakashi’s hand. “Okay. I’m sorry for assuming then.”

“If you say you’re sorry one more time, I’m going to skin you alive.”

Raijin grins weakly. “Violent as ever.”

Kakashi scoffs and shakes his head. “Whatever. I’m going back to sleep.”

And, well, that’s that. Raijin doesn’t push again. He sighs and crosses back over to his bed, crawling under the sheets that have since gone cold. Kakashi’s grief still hangs heavy in the room. It feels like burning to Raijin’s senses. He knows what's going to happen even before it does.

The smell of salt follows him into his dreams.

He dreams of a future that will never come to pass again. He dreams of battlefields and devastation and hopelessness. He dreams of running, a weight on his back and nowhere to go. “Leave me, Naruto. I’m not going to make it,” haunts him at every dead end. He dreams of loss and emptiness and a face he only ever got to see in death.

And then—there is something. There is life; warmth. At his back. Skinny arms wrap around him, a face presses to the back of his neck. Familiar chakra that fizzles and pops like static pokes at his own.

“It’s just a dream,” someone tells him. They sound young. Raijin strains to listen. Their voice leads them around a corner and he isn’t stuck anymore.

Raijin claws his way back to awareness, turning towards the voice. “’kashi-kun?””

“Go back to sleep, dumbass,” is mumbled into his ear. The arms around him tighten.

And Raijin listens. He sighs and reaches for the warmth with his chakra as if that will let him carve it into his heart. 

He sleeps. He does not dream of loss again.

Chapter Text

Seeing Minato again is nice. Raijin hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed his brother until they both wind up being in Konoha at the same time again, finally giving them the time to catch up after months of sporadic contact.

The last time they’d seen each other, it had been just as the leaves began to turn at the start of autumn. They are weeks past the new year now, well into winter. Almost a full five months of war and repair, and at long last, things are starting to fall into the place for a new normal as Konoha enters a hard-earned time of peace. The endless missions are starting to slow and tired shinobi are finally allowed to come home for more than their next assignment.

Minato looks older somehow than when Raijin last saw him. There is a weight in the slant of his shoulders, a gravity in the electric blue of his eyes. He is slower to smile now; warier and quieter. There is an intensity there that Raijin recognises well—the severity of what it means to be a leader, and the burden of holding the fate of an entire village.

For so long Namikaze Minato had been Raijin’s hero. The Yondaime Hokage had been much beloved by Konohagakure and almost every shinobi of Raijin’s generation had aspired to live up to the standards he had set. It is strange to realise now that Minato is still growing into the man he will become and that it is happening before Raijin’s very own eyes.

“It’s over now,” Minato says, voice whisper soft in the dim golden light of Raijin’s kitchen, his hands wrapped around a chipped mug of over-steeped tea as though it is something precious. “Iwagakure was charged with blame and reparation. Konoha has renewed peace treaties. Kushina is safe. Team 7 made it back in one piece. Jiraiya-sensei is still okay. You’re finally back home. It’s all over now.”

Raijin hums, knocking his foot against Minato’s under the table. “We’ve been very fortunate.”

Minato smiles, small and fragile. “We have,” he agrees. “Not everyone can say the same.”

“It was war,” Raijin points out, lips pursed. “It's always going to be all about loss.”

“But it’s over now.”

“So it is.”

Taking a deep breath, Minato says, “Hokage-sama wants to offer me a seat at the council as reward for my contributions to the war effort.” He pauses, eyeing Raijin with uncharacteristic nervousness. “The clan council.”

That certainly is news to him. He knows for sure Minato only ever had a seat at the council as Hokage, and that the Namikaze were never a clan. Minato had been given a medal or something originally and that had been that. To be awarded clan status isn’t something Raijin had even thought of. He doesn't think it has been done since possibly the Founders' Era.

‘No point in clan status when it’s a clan of one,’ Kurama points out dryly.

Raijin blinks in realisation. “Ah,” he says.

His response doesn’t seem to reassure Minato much. The elder of the two presses on, “I don’t want to force this onto you. It’s totally understandable if you want to refuse or if you’re uncomfortable, but I just figured it’d be worth bringing up first because a seat at the council really could be helpful. Of course, this isn’t to pressure you. I’m just saying so you kn—”

“What are you talking about?” Raijin interrupts, puzzled. “Why would I be uncomfortable if you have a seat at the council?”

Minato winces. “Your name,” he says. “All your documents and records, including those for your citizenship, only have ‘Raijin’ on them. A clan has to have at least two people in it capable of expanding its numbers to be recognised under Konoha’s laws. However, for all official purposes, right now, I’m the only Namikaze in the village.”

“Ah,” Raijin says again, scratching at his cheek. “Well, you don’t have to worry so much about that. I don’t really…mind, I guess.”

Hesitating, Minato asks, “Are you sure?”

Raijin nods. “Sure. It’s just a name, right?” His smile feels brittle on his face, so he drops it. It was only a matter of time, he tells himself. It’s fine. He wasn’t exactly using Uzumaki anyways. He may as well take on Namikaze and at least help his brother out.

“It’s not just that,” Minato says, sighing. “I think a successor announcement is right around the corner.” He purses his lips. “Hokage are not allowed to hold two seats at any council. If we do get a place among the clan council, you would have to be my proxy and represent the Namikaze for the entirety of my tenure.”

‘Hello, politics,’ Raijin thinks numbly. He hadn't anticipated stepping into that shark tank so early on or with this much presence.

“It’s a big ask,” Minato admits, fingers linked together. “I’d understand if you don’t want to be involved with that side of village function. I can always just take a medal instead. It’d be a popularity boost among the civilians and the capital. There’s no harm either way, so we can do whatever is more comfortable for you.”

Part of Raijin wants to refuse. After all, this never happened the first time round. He doesn’t know what to expect out of this at all. But, then again, nothing about the future is going to be as it was anyway. By this point, most of Raijin’s knowledge is already exhausted and he’s playing blind.

He bites the inside of his cheek. “What would give you the bigger advantage? Like, long-term.”

Minato watches him with unreadable eyes, quietly pensive in a way that makes Raijin want to squirm under his attention. He feels like a butterfly pinned down under nothing but Minato’s gaze.

“You would offer?” Minato asks finally, quiet. “Just like that?”

Raijin blinks, bewildered. “Well…yeah.”

The indecipherable tension doesn’t ease out of Minato’s face. “It will be dangerous, Raijin,” he says. “We will be a new clan, suddenly put on par with the founding clans when no other shinobi clan has had the honour in decades. There will be scrutiny that you won’t be able to escape if you agree to become my proxy. There will be manipulations and machinations; alliances and offences, both temporary and permanent. We will have to think twice about almost every seemingly innocuous interaction going forward. We will make enemies. We might not make friends.” Quieter still, he adds, “Shimura Danzou will be there.”

Shrugging off the doom and gloom, Raijin eyes his brother. “Wow, nii-chan, way to be a pessimist.”

“I want you to make an informed decision.”

“I already knew all that stuff,” Raijin states, inclining his head. “I didn’t think it was going to be easy. You’re in for all that stuff no matter what you do, and if you take the hat, then it’s going to bleed into my life regardless too.”

“It’d be a lot easier to avoid if you weren’t actively involved in the decision making though,” Minato points out.

Raijin frowns. “What are you trying to do?” he asks. “Do you want me to refuse?”

“No, I just—” Minato closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know,” he admits after a moment. “I need everyone I can get in my corner because I don’t have the pre-existing alliances clan shinobi usually do. Having you on the council, having a guarantee that at least one person has my back—it would be invaluable. But it’s risky. I don’t want to put you in any harm’s way if I can help it. I want you to be safe. I—” He swallows. “I need you to be safe.”

‘Shit,’ Raijin thinks, blinking rapidly, ‘I think I’m going to cry.’

‘You humans and your squishy human feelings,’ Kurama sneers. ‘Pathetic.’

Clearing his throat, Raijin sits up straight. “I want to help,” he says decisively. “I know it’s risky. I know it’s going to be difficult and aggravating, and creepy old people will test my morality and patience every step of the way. I know I’ll have to think twice and look over my shoulder a lot. But I can deal with all of that, and I can take care of myself too. If you think having someone in your corner on that council is going to help you in the long run, then I’m down to do it.”

Minato presses his lips into a thin line. “Why?” he asks, his eyes never leaving Raijin’s.

“Because you’re my brother.”

He blinks at that, looking stunned. The surprise is very quickly replaced by something overwhelmingly soft and fond as Minato smiles. “Just like that?”

Raijin smiles back. “Just like that.”

Fugaku stands in the Hokage office, hands clasped behind his back, every inch of him filled with a wary trepidation. Today is the day he finds out whether he should expect any aid from the Hokage in helping the Uchiha regain their slipping hold within the village.

Today is the day he finds out whether or not Itachi will be allowed into the Academy early.

Fingers steepled on his desk, Hiruzen sighs as he regards the Uchiha clan head and heir with tired eyes. “You understand this puts me in a difficult position, yes, Uchiha-dono?”

Fugaku’s heart sinks. At his side, Itachi shifts his weight ever so slightly. “There is precedent,” he argues, keeping his emotions decidedly off his face. “Itachi would hardly be the first to be admitted into the Academy at the age of four.”

“Indeed,” Hiruzen nods, looking grave, “but those were exceptions from a time of war.”

It is an exercise in patience to keep himself from gritting his teeth. From where he is stood behind the Hokage, Namikaze Minato watches Fugaku with too sharp eyes and a knowing furrow in his brow.

“Peacetime is hardly an excuse to grow complacent,” Fugaku retorts swiftly. “I don’t see why it is any reason to let Itachi’s brilliance go to waste. He is a genius and will certainly be a credit to our village. He deserves the chance to reach that potential at the earliest instead of stagnating in this way.”

Sighing, Hiruzen passes a hand over his face. “I see where you are coming from, Uchiha-dono, but you must understand my position. It is imperative that we show people that we are in a time of peace for them to feel at ease. I have told them that their children are finally safe, and now I must prove that I mean it. Increasing the age of admittance to the Academy is a small but important step in doing just that. It tells everyone that we are no longer in such desperate need of soldiers. It lets our children stay children for that much longer.”

Fugaku wants to bring up Hatake Kakashi. He wants to bring up every other slightly above average child for whom allowances were made. ‘But, perhaps,’ he thinks bitterly, ‘such exceptions are only made for those who are not Uchiha.’

It is Minato who cuts through the uncomfortable silence that has befallen the office, humming thoughtfully as his gaze drifts to Itachi. “Still,” he comments, “it would be a shame to curb Itachi-kun’s growth for the sake of politics. It is unfair to ask him to sacrifice his potential for our convenience. This is his peacetime too after all.”

The words are clearly in support of Fugaku’s cause, but still, he cannot help the way he tenses. Admittedly, he is not too familiar with Namikaze Minato. They are not strangers by any means, of course, and their significant others are friends, so they have spoken on a few occasions. Minato is polite and agreeable, but he is also unashamedly cunning. He sees and dissects, and he is unafraid to act to his advantage. They are not enemies, but they have never tried to be friends. Fugaku wonders why the man is choosing to come to his aid now instead of siding with the Hokage as one would expect of him.

Hiruzen too looks as though he is wondering the same, looking between Fugaku and Minato with curious eyes. “Perhaps the shinobi faction will not care, but the civilian council will protest. It is their petition to increase the age of admittance to at least six-years-old.”

Tilting his head, Minato considers this. “Is there no other official channel Itachi-kun can go through to start his education earlier than usual?”

Fugaku’s breath catches in his throat. Could he mean…? “An apprenticeship,” he exhales.

From the quicksilver smile that passes over Minato’s face, Fugaku suspects the man had been aiming for this all along. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. It is entirely possible that Raijin mentioned the dinner conversation to Minato where they had insinuated something similar. Still, Fugaku had meant that in very much an unofficial capacity. This isn’t an entirely expected turn of events.

Bewildered, Hiruzen blinks. “An apprenticeship?” he repeats. “We haven’t had one in the village in decades.”

“It became obsolete when the Academy was introduced and standardised learning became advantageous for the system of teams we operate under,” Fugaku says, frowning.

“It might be seen as old-fashioned,” Hiruzen points out.

Minato shrugs. “It doesn’t seem like a bad idea though,” he states. “It might have gone out of fashion, but the arrangement itself is legal and well above-board, especially for established shinobi clans. Itachi-kun is a prodigy—he was never going to benefit from standardised learning anyway; not without it hindering his own rate of development to match the other children. This way, at least, we are able to make an exception for him, and he can get the appropriate attention and training he needs.”

Hiruzen frowns, but he looks thoughtful as he regards Minato. “You seem rather invested in this, Minato-kun.”

To his credit, Minato looks entirely unfazed by the unsubtle prodding. “I was a prodigy stuck in an environment that never challenged me intellectually until I was assigned to Jiraiya-sensei. I taught Kakashi who was much the same. Shikaku-san is another example of a genius who never had to work hard to coast by. It’s harmful to instill that kind of thing into children and force them to conform just because they are different. They learn to speak less and not stand out, and they never quite fit in among their peers if they choose to not curb that genius. Talent needs to be nurtured—I’d like for Itachi-kun to get that opportunity at least.”

It’s a solid excuse. Hiruzen seems to think so too judging by the vague amusement clinging to the edges of his mouth. “Very well,” he mutters, turning back to the two Uchiha. “What do you think, Uchiha-dono?”

Fugaku swallows, something that feels dangerously like hope pressing against his ribs. “I would be amenable to such an arrangement, Hokage-sama.”

“And Itachi-kun?” Hiruzen smiles down kindly at the boy. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go to school with other children your age?”

Hesitating, Itachi’s wide eyes look between the Hokage and his father. His gaze flits over to Minato who is stood behind the Hokage’s chair, skittering away when the man smiles at him in encouragement. The boy ducks his head, allowing his hair to fall into his face. “I am sure, Hokage-sama.”

Hiruzen’s smile is wan, but he nods, unsurprised. “Do you have a potential mentor in mind?”

Thoughts racing, Fugaku looks to Minato who only raises an eyebrow at him. This is it. Hiruzen may be a lost cause, but here, Minato is clearly proving himself willing to side with the Uchiha and help. He has made it clear that he wouldn’t mind something of an alliance or connection between them—has gone out of his way to make it obvious that he would prefer it even.

A succession is just around the corner and Hiruzen has made it no secret who his choice will be. Even now, Minato is in a meeting that does not concern him simply because the Hokage has requested it. And the future Yondaime is willing to aid the Uchiha. He is willing to listen. He is willing to attach his only brother to the Uchiha name to solidify a tie with them. There is no time to hesitate.

“Namikaze Raijin,” Fugaku says, rising to his full height. Itachi’s head snaps up to stare at his father.

Hiruzen blinks, once again glancing between him and Minato who gives nothing away in his relaxed posture. “Raijin-kun?”

“He has proven himself to be a most excellent shinobi. He is young, powerful, well-travelled, and famously does well with children. Raijin-kun is already well-liked by my clan for saving one of our own. Itachi is familiar with and fond of him as well.” Fugaku stubbornly looks Hiruzen in the eye. “I believe they will be compatible as a teacher and student.”

“And will Raijin-kun agree?” Hiruzen asks Minato. “An apprenticeship would essentially make him a third guardian for Itachi-kun. He would have the biggest say in Itachi’s education and the development of his career as a shinobi. It is a big responsibility, and Raijin-kun is still rather young. Would he want to do this?”

Minato hums. “I cannot speak for him,” he says slowly, “but I do think he would be. He likes children, and from what Obito and Kakashi have to say, he is a good teacher. He is fond of Itachi-kun as well. I don’t see him refusing.”

Sighing, Hiruzen nods. “I suppose we will simply have to ask him to be sure.”

And just like that, Fugaku and Itachi are on their way home, the Hokage’s official approval letter for Itachi entering an apprenticeship in hand. Now, if Raijin agrees, they will simply have to submit the appropriate paperwork, and then Itachi can start training under his new mentor.

The future Hokage’s one and only beloved brother himself will teach the Uchiha clan heir. Fugaku can practically already hear the parallels people will draw between this situation and the famous bond that Senju Tobirama and Uchiha Kagami had shared. If this goes into play, it will undoubtedly mean positive attention for the Uchiha.

For the first time in a long time, Fugaku thinks things might actually get better.

For the first time in a long time, he dares to allow himself hope.

Orochimaru knows exactly who walks into the izakaya the second it happens. Still, he does not show it, keeping his body languid and relaxed as he sips at his sake, content to wait and see what the younger Namikaze will do.

They are not strangers exactly, but they have not spoken outside of any professional capacity from when they had been deployed together. This is unsurprising. It is how things usually go for Orochimaru. He does not mind it. The mindless ilk will continue to fear that which they do not understand and Orochimaru will continue his pursuit of all knowledge. He has no need to surround himself with senseless sheep who would never appreciate the extent of his ambition.

Once, he had thought his sensei and teammates had been different. These days, he knows better.

Namikaze Raijin pauses by the door, presumably when he catches sight of Orochimaru seated at the bar. Then he makes his way over and promptly drops one seat over to Orochimaru’s left.

The Snake Sannin blinks and accepts it, not bothering to look up from his meal.

“Hey, Orochimaru-san,” Raijin speaks up, flashing Orochimaru as quick smile when the elder finally looks up at the acknowledgment. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you here.”

“Raijin-kun,” Orochimaru returns evenly, bobbing his head.

“I was fully convinced you were still running a mission,” the blond continues, squinting at the menu displayed over the counter. “Hokage-sama is totally running the jounin into the ground.”

Tilting his head, Orochimaru says, “It is to be expected.”

Raijin smiles wryly at that. “Yeah, I guess it is.” He asks for the dinner special set and a beer, as though this is a perfectly normal occasion for him.

“You are an amusing boy,” Orochimaru remarks candidly, unprompted.

“I live to entertain,” comes the instant reply, and Raijin looks startled by his own response, slowly turning to blink blankly at Orochimaru.

Lips twitching, he pours himself another cup. “What do you want from me, Raijin-kun?”

Lifting an eyebrow, the boy’s mouth twists. “Why are you assuming I want something?”

“You would not have approached me otherwise.”

Raijin openly rolls his eyes. “I’m just making conversation.”

Orochimaru angles a brow. “Is that so?”

“Indulge me,” Raijin waves a hand, careless. “I hear you’re a scientist.”

“I suppose,” he allows. “I pursue all knowledge that is available to me.” And some that is not too, but that is neither here nor there.

Raijin looks at him as though he hears it anyway, glancing at him dryly over his glass, and Orochimaru looks back with renewed interest. The boy may try to convince the world he is loud and brash, and perhaps he is, but he certainly isn’t stupid as he pretends to be. Jiraiya is much the same.

“Jiraiya-san said you probably know the most jutsu after the Sandaime.”

Orochimaru hums. “Perhaps. Sarutobi-sensei is much older than I am though. Eventually, I will catch up.”

“Sensei,” Raijin repeats thoughtfully, more to himself than anything. “Right. You were a team.” He looks back at Orochimaru. “Were you close?”

He wants to say no. He wants to refuse and reject all of them, rip them right out of his person and the history that has made him. Leave them behind as they have left him. Shed and shaken off like dead snakeskin.

Instead what comes out of his mouth is, “We were inseparable.” He looks away from unreadable blue eyes and traces the rim of his cup. Bitterly, he adds, “Like an illness.”

“You miss them.” It is not a question.

He wishes he could be angry but the anger won’t come. It has been too long for him to feel anything but emptiness in the space where Tsunade and Jiraiya used to reside among whatever softness he had to offer. He wishes he could hate them for it too. He’s still trying to. One day, he thinks he will succeed. Right now, he doesn’t know how to feel about that.

“I’m a futurist,” he says at last. “I do not believe in looking back at the past. Nostalgia is a lie meant for fools.”

For a moment, Raijin is quiet, eyes downcast and face pensive. Softly, he corrects, “Nostalgia is a kind of grief.” He closes his eyes. “And grief is just love with nowhere else to go.” When he looks at Orochimaru, it is with a gentle sort of understanding that makes his skin crawl. “You loved your friends. I think that’s important.”

It feels a little bit like getting slapped. In fact, Orochimaru might have even preferred that to the terrible softness in this boy’s eyes. He can’t bear to look at him any longer, so he looks away. His flesh creeps with the urge to set himself on fire.

He remembers softness like something from a dream. Remembers having it directed at him in gentle touches and murmured words; hands in hands, in hair, on skin; laughter and jokes and dreams and promises. He remembers being soft. Having it within himself.

He thinks it has long since died. Perhaps he killed it himself. It is rotting now.

“Love,” he pronounces imperiously, lip curling. He hates how it fits in his mouth. Wrong. Repulsive. “I’m not sure I even know such a thing.”

Raijin is lucky he doesn’t look at Orochimaru with pity for that. He might’ve just found a kunai buried in those pretty little eyes of his.

Instead, he says, “I had a friend. Sakura. She was a field medic so she had to be really good with her hands, and for the most part, she was.” Raijin’s mouth pulls back into a smile, gaze distant and warm. “For some reason, though, she was freakishly bad at peeling oranges. Like, it would only come off in little bits and she’d get juice and pulp everywhere and make a total mess. Every time I peeled one for her, she was super impressed, as if I had some sort of superpower.” The smile turns into something wistful and sad. “I remember wishing that she would never learn how to peel oranges. I think that’s all love is—peeling oranges for your best friend so she’ll laugh and share half of it with you.”

Orochimaru’s heart feels like lead. He downs the contents of his cup and refills it. Pausing, he blinks at the ripples on the surface of the alcohol.

“I nearly drowned in a lake once,” he comments dully. “It was during our first Academy field trip. I hadn’t known how to swim back then.” Licking at his lips, he adds, “I know now. Tsunade taught me.”

When she left, it had felt a lot like drowning again. He is older now and he knows how to swim, and still, it had felt as though he was back in those murky depths, looking catfish in the eye and convinced he had met gazes with the shinigami himself. Like all along it had waited for him at the bottom. He knows how to swim now, but she had left, and he had been afraid all over again.

He can’t even remember the last time he spoke her name before today. He wishes he could hate her for it. He wishes she would come back.

“This is her favourite sake, you know,” he says, finger tapping against the cup.

Because even his escapism seems to lead him back to the things he wants to escape from in the first place.

“I’m sorry she left,” Raijin says.

“Why?”

“Because it made you sad.”

Orochimaru wants to scoff. He is above such grief—or, at least, he should be. Tsunade made her choice. As did Jiraiya. He hadn’t been worth staying for, and that’s that. Grief is love and love is unforgiving. It is pain. It is violence. It is fear and longing and a bone-deep hunger.

And he refuses to be haunted by the ghosts of such cowards. He is pragmatic. Cold. Rational. Sensible. Grief is none of those things. He is above his own.

Yet, these words die on his tongue, refusing to leave his mouth. Speaking them will make them real. He remains silent.

“I heard you are looking for a way to become immortal,” Raijin brings up.

Orochimaru exhales. “If I wish to collect knowledge of all jutsu in the world, I will need to be.”

Raijin regards him with open consideration. “And then will you be happy?”

Blinking, Orochimaru says, “I will be strong.”

“But will you be happy?”

He looks away, sipping at the sake. It tastes like the lake he almost drowned in all those years ago.

“No.”

Chapter Text

It has been a while since Hiruzen last visited the Hokage Monument. He cannot even remember anymore. Was it that time he brought Asuma for a visit when his youngest son had still been small enough to fit in his arms? He closes his eyes and tires to recall—Asuma’s wide smile, teeth missing and face sticky from ice cream, his boy a warm weight against him.

This morning Asuma had looked at him with pinched brows and pursed lips before announcing that he would be moving into an apartment of his own within the week. Apparently, he had been looking for months and the tenancy agreement has already been finalised. Hiruzen…hadn’t known.

He sighs and clasps his hands behind his back, twisting aching fingers together. These days, every single injury and failure seems to have caught up to him at long last. Hiruzen feels so very old and so very weary. Retiring will be good for him, he thinks.

For so long now, he has had the weight of all his years pressing upon his shoulders. As a boy, he had been certain that he would have all the answers in the world by the time he grew old. Now though, he thinks he knows even less than he knew back then.

He hasn’t been a very good husband, though Biwako has never complained. He certainly hasn’t been a very good father, and neither of his sons have hesitated from telling him this. He thought he made a good teacher, but looking at the scattered remains of Team 7 now, he has to wonder. And if he’d been a better friend, perhaps things wouldn’t have become as bitter and complicated as they have with Danzou, Homura and Koharu.

He hopes he has been a decent Hokage at the very least, but with each passing day, he is less and less sure.

What he does know is that his next step must be to retire. He has worn the hat for too long, fought in too many wars and made enough mistakes. Now, he’d like to be man before shinobi once again. He would like to make it up to his wife and sons if he is so allowed. He would like to study chakra theory and civilian trade policies for fun. He would like to rest and breathe without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

There is the soft landing of feet behind him and Hiruzen tenses even though he knows his ANBU guards are still around. A moment later, a very distinct head of blond is at his side and he relaxes. Hiruzen is not as familiar with Raijin as he is Minato, but he still finds that he rather likes the boy.

“Fancy running into you here, Hokage-sama,” Raijin says, flashing a cheeky grin that has his whiskered cheeks dimpling slightly.

Hiruzen smiles back. “It is good to see you, Raijin-kun. Are you here to admire the sunset?”

Shrugging, Raijin turns to squint at the setting sun and shakes his head. “Not really. I like looking at the village more. It’s nice to see all the people go about their day, living their lives.” He smiles, and it is touched with something bittersweet. “I missed being part of a village.”

For a moment, Hiruzen watches the boy. Then he hums. “You weren’t fond of the nomadic lifestyle?”

Nose wrinkling, Raijin says, “Not really. It was necessary with the war and all, but…not my first choice by far.” He glances at Hiruzen from the corner of his eye. “I’m not really built for it like Jiraiya-san seems to be.”

Hiruzen smiles wryly at that. “Indeed. Jiraiya-kun has only gotten more restless with time.”

“It’s weird because I can tell he’s getting kind of lonely,” Raijin comments lightly. “He seemed excited to be travelling with someone again when we rescued Obito-kun. The road is harsh when there’s no one to walk it with you.”

Though he had suspected, Hiruzen had never brought it up with his former student. As the war went on and his students grew up into formidable shinobi in their own rights, Hiruzen had neglected keeping up with them for other, more pressing duties. There is always something more to be done. Always another treaty, another mission, another battle. He had figured he’d done his duty as their sensei and could trust his students to sort their issues out for themselves.

But maybe those are excuses. He knows better than anyone else that, for most of their lives, his students had only ever had him and each other to rely on. There had been no one else to turn to. Hiruzen turned his back to them first. It is only fair that, now, they have done the same to him.

When he stays quiet for too long, Raijin changes the subject. “I ran into Orochimaru-san the other day,” he brings up conversationally.

Hiruzen blinks, intrigued. It has been some time since he has spoken to Orochimaru outside of mission assignments and reports. The guilt churns in his gut unpleasantly. At least with Tsunade and Jiraiya, he can say that they’re no longer in Konoha. With Orochimaru, Hiruzen has no such excuses. He swallows. “Oh?”

Raijin nods. “Come to think of it, he seemed really lonely too.”

This isn’t surprising. It doesn’t make it any easier for Hiruzen to accept. This one, he knows he could have done something about. He knows he could have helped. He knows he could have stepped in when Danzou brought up having Orochimaru conduct experiments on prisoners, and then later, when Danzou recruited him for ROOT. And yet, he hadn’t.

Because there was always something else to do. Because Orochimaru hadn’t asked him to.

Orochimaru who went from calling him ‘Hiruzen-sensei’ to ‘Sarutobi-sensei’ to an impersonal ‘Hokage-sama’.

Hiruzen exhales slowly. “I am retiring soon,” he tells Raijin. The boy turns to blink at him. He does not look surprised. “There is a meeting with the Daimyo next week. I am going to nominate Minato-kun as my successor.”

Nodding, Raijin turns away and peers up at the sky. “You should talk to Orochimaru-san about that too,” he says. Eyes widening, he flaps his hands in panic. “I mean, not that I’m not super thrilled for my brother. I am! He’s going to be an amazing Hokage and I know it and I’m extremely happy for him. He totally deserves it! But,” he deflates, “I have a feeling Orochimaru-san isn’t going to be as ecstatic.”

Closing his eyes, Hiruzen sighs. “No. No, I don’t think he will be.”

“You should talk to him,” Raijin repeats. “I think he really needs that right now. He said he misses his team.”

Hiruzen’s eyebrows rise. “He said that?”

Raijin makes a noncommittal sound. “Well, it was implied,” he says. “He didn’t deny it.”

Which really is as good as confirmation from someone as reticent as Orochimaru. Hiruzen massages at his temple, squeezing his eyes shut. “My sensei used to say that willful ignorance could prove fatal for a leader,” he says.

“He isn’t wrong,” Raijin agrees. “Nothing goes away just because you stick your head in the sand.”

Hiruzen flinches. “I have much to atone for, Raijin-kun.”

The boy watches him with too sharp eyes, lips pressed together. “It won’t be easy,” he warns. “It might not even work.”

“I know,” Hiruzen admits quietly.

“But it’s important to try anyway,” Raijin says knowingly, offering him a thin smile. “That’s all anyone can do, really.”

‘From the mouth of babes,’ Hiruzen thinks.

“Good luck with that retirement, Hokage-sama.”

“Thank you, Raijin-kun. I’m afraid I will be needing it.”

Raijin watches Obito moodily prod at his new hoya plant, glaring at the little flowers even as he coaxes that extra burst of life into them. The younger boy is still an Uchiha after all; he too must have some sort of quota for brooding he has to fulfil or something. Maybe that’s how the Uchiha pay tribute for taxes. Maybe they give all the little Uchiha kiddies lessons on how to master the Uchiha pout.

“You’ve gotten pretty good with mokuton,” Raijin notes, peering up from his notes.

Obito hums, dropping his cheek against his fist. “It took a while to get used to but once I kind of just…accepted it, it came to me pretty naturally. Like, I had to just go with it instead of trying to control it.”

Raijin nods, figuring that makes sense. “You can’t control nature,” he says thoughtfully, “so I guess you can’t wrestle mokuton into submission either.”

“Yeah,” Obito sighs. He droops even further.

For a moment, Raijin stares at the chunin with pursed lips before rolling his eyes. “Alright, that’s enough,” he mutters, setting his notes down. “What’s up with you? Why are you sighing like some forlorn maiden?”

“Maiden?!” Obito squawks indignantly, straightening up to glare at Raijin. “I am not!”

“Are too,” Raijin returns. “You’re going to start growing mushrooms in my living room at this rate!”

Obito pouts at him, puffing his cheeks out. “Stop being mean,” he whines.

Raising his eyebrows, Raijin doesn’t bother keeping his amusement off his face. “Come on,” he prompts, “tell me what’s up. Maybe I can help.”

Letting out an exaggerated sigh, Obito falls sideways onto the sofa, curling up and peeking at Raijin through dark lashes. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I promise,” Raijin assures patiently.

Obito grabs one of the many pillows that live on the sofa, squeezing it in his arms as he bites the inside of his cheek in thought. Finally, hesitantly, he brings up, “I heard you’re going to be Itachi-kun’s mentor. Officially.”

Raijin blinks, nodding slowly. “Yes.”

Faltering, Obito says, “Bet you’re gonna get real busy now.”

‘Oh,’ Raijin thinks, fighting valiantly to keep himself from gaping outright. ‘Oh, Sage, is this what it’s like to have kids? Am I a parent?”

“Obito-kun,” he starts carefully, “are you worried that I won’t have time for you anymore?”

Groaning, Obito buries his face into the pillow, actively trying to smother himself with it. “Maybe,” he admits despondently, voice muffled.

Raijin thinks he might be dissociating. He hasn’t felt this out of depth since he failed the Academy’s graduation test like a million years ago. Of course, he had known that Obito is attached to him and seeks emotional comfort from him, but he didn't think that Itachi’s introduction to his life would make Obito feel insecure. Raijin hadn’t realised he meant that much to Obito.

Eloquently, he says, “Oh.”

Obito tries even harder to become one with Raijin’s sofa, letting out a high-pitched keen that will probably summon every canine in a five-block radius to Raijin’s apartment building.

That snaps him back into action and he rises so he can round his coffee table and drop onto the sofa, taking a seat by Obito’s head. Lowering the pillow, Obito peers up at him cautiously, ears bright red.

With a grin, Raijin lightly flicks the boy’s forehead. “Stop freaking out about it,” he says, propping his feet up onto the table. “Listen, I’m not going to deny that I’m going to get busier. I’m also not going to deny that Itachi-kun will be added to the list of my priorities from now on. As his mentor, I’ll be responsible for his education and growth and I’m not going to risk disrespecting the trust that Itachi and his parents are placing in me. But,” he continues pointedly before Obito can wilt, “that doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly just going to stop seeing you, Obito-kun.”

“That’s what you think,” Obito grumbles, turning onto his side so he’s facing the back of the sofa. “Just wait until you start teaching Itachi-kun and realise how much cuter and smarter and better than me he is. You’re totally going to forget all about me.”

It’d probably be supremely inappropriate for him to coo and pinch Obito’s cheeks when the boy is literally pouring his heart out to Raijin about his insecurities. He’s tempted to do it anyway. Raijin buries his hands into the soft wool of the nearest throw blanket to keep himself from acting on the evil impulses of the inner grandma of his soul.

“Hey, Obito-kun,” he starts instead, “have I ever given you the impression that I’m the kind of person who’d replace the people in my life like that?”

Begrudgingly, Obito grumbles, “No.”

Raijin hums. “Then what makes you think I’m going to do that to you?”

“Because it’s me,” Obito says quietly. “Why would you ever want me? My own clan doesn’t think I belong. Itachi-kun is smart and polite and adorable. Me? I’m loud and annoying and stupid. It makes sense to choose him.”

Frowning, Raijin rests a hand on Obito’s shoulder. “It’s not about choosing one over the other, Obito-kun. I want Itachi-kun in my life but that doesn't mean I want him at your expense. My heart isn’t so small that it doesn’t have enough space to fit both of you. I’m not just going to suddenly start refusing to see you.”

Obito curls in on himself even further, drawing his chakra in tight like a protective cloak of some sort. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I don't know.”

Raijin softens, running careful fingers through Obito’s dark curls. “You have nothing to apologise for, Obito-kun,” he assures softly. “I’m sorry that your clan is too dumb to see how great you are. You’re so much more than just loud, annoying or stupid. You’re brave, hardworking, funny, and kind. You’re a good shinobi, a good friend, and a great person. Besides,” Raijin grins, “I’m loud and annoying and kind of stupid too, so you’re in excellent company.”

Peeking up at him, Obito uncurls ever so slightly. “You mean it?”

“I really do,” Raijin promises, smiling gently. “It’s going to be okay, Obito-kun. I’m not going to forget you and I’m not choosing Itachi-kun over you. I like hanging out with you, you know, and you’re always going to be welcome here. Okay?”

Chakra flaring like butterfly wings, Obito smiles back tentatively. “Okay. Thanks, Raijin-san.”

“No problem, kid.”

“I have a standing invitation to his house whenever I want and I didn’t even mean to get it,” Obito reports dutifully.

Rin nods, impressed, as she marks it down on their checklist. “That’s jumping two steps ahead to number seven. Good job, Obito-kun! You’re ahead of schedule for once.”

Perking up, Obito puffs out his chest and grins. “Thanks for helping me out, Rin-chan!”

“Of course,” she smiles, flipping the notebook shut. “Now, how are things going with Kakashi-kun? Did you bring up registering for an official marriage certificate?”

Obito frowns, glaring down at his bento. “He runs away every time I try to bring it up.”

Rin hums. “Well, the three of us do have that mission coming up soon. He can’t exactly run away then, can he?”

They exchange knowing glances, matching devious grins in place.

“I do think it’s high time for an intervention, Obito-kun. You can’t have your marriage fall apart this way.”

“I do believe you’re right, Rin-chan, and I think I have an idea.”

“Let’s hear it then.”

“Okay, so, first—”

Contrary to what was often said about him in his childhood and adolescence, Raijin isn’t in fact a total idiot, thank you very much. Just because he likes to play by the ear doesn’t mean he’s incapable of thinking ahead; he just tends not to do it. Not this time though. This time, he has the incredible foresight to swear Kakashi off from telling Minato about Raijin’s birthday having passed months ago.

Because Kakashi is pretty good about honouring his word, he does keep the truth from Minato.

But because he’s an absolute little shit, he goes straight to Kushina and snitches to her at the earliest opportunity instead. Kushina then proceeds to immediately inform Minato who insists on having a belated celebration for Raijin on his own birthday.

“A combined party is an adorable idea!” Kushina coos, snapping pictures of everything.

Disoriented from the flash of the camera, Raijin doesn’t bother fighting when Minato tugs him into a fierce hug that squeezes the air right out of his lungs. To Raijin’s utmost horror, his brother looks alarmingly misty-eyed.

Sometimes it’s hard for him to mentally reconcile Minato (his dorky older brother) with the Yondaime Hokage (role model, genius, and guy who essentially doomed Raijin by sealing the Nine Tails into him at birth, but that’s a whole can of worms he has refused to touch since he was sixteen). As more time passes, Raijin finds himself getting progressively caught between his past, his present, and the future that will never be.

His brother is going to be Hokage soon, and Raijin is happy for him, really. But he also can’t deny that a part of him is resentful for the fact that he’d had to give up his own dream for this new reality. Raijin will never be Hokage as he had intended since he was a child who’d had nothing except for himself and a wild ambition. He won’t ever even get to tell anyone that he had wanted that for basically his entire life.

It can be…a lot. He tries not to think about it. Has refused to do so all this time in fact. He very carefully refuses to examine everything he has lost; everything that will never be his. In some ways, he is lucky he even gets to have this. In others, he wonders if it will be enough. If everything he has given up is worth his one-man crusade through time and space.

“Next year, we’ll throw a special party just for you,” Minato promises, gently rocking them from side to side, yanking Raijin back down to reality. “I wish you’d told me so I could have at least sent you a present.”

Kushina comes up behind Raijin to poke his cheek in passing on her way to the cake. “He’s right, Rai-kun. I’m mad that you kept your birthday a secret.”

Grumbling incoherently, Raijin tucks his face into Minato’s shoulder and scowls. “It’s not a big deal,” he mutters under his breath.

“Not a big deal?” Kushina repeats incredulously.

Minato releases his younger brother to frown down at him. He doesn’t even look angry or disappointed. He just looks sad. It makes Raijin want to kick him and then himself.

“Of course, it’s a big deal, Raijin,” Minato insists earnestly. “I’m so glad to have you; so glad that you were born and that you’re my brother. You deserve to be celebrated. We want to celebrate you because we love you.”

Throwing her arm around Raijin’s shoulders, Kushina gently knocks her head against his. “What the sissy said,” she agrees. “We haven’t been able to ever celebrate your birthday before, you know. Let us have this now.”

Raijin blinks hard, bringing a hand up to clutch at his chest because his heart feels so swollen with joy in his chest that he’s pretty sure it’s just straight up going to explode and he’s literally going to die from happiness and that would make Minato and Kushina sad.

The last time he got to celebrate his birthday was when he turned sixteen. Since then, each of his birthdays has been spent while at war where there just hadn’t been time for silly things like parties. They’d just been trying to make it through to another day.

And now, to be told this—by his parents, at that. It’s overwhelming.

He closes his eyes and exhales shakily, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I don’t know what to say,” he admits, voice small.

“Look at that,” Kushina remarks, ruffling his hair with a fond smile. “We rendered the chatterbox speechless.”

Minato smiles. “You don’t have to say anything, Raijin.”

“But—”

Rolling her eyes, Kushina cuts him off, “Just say ‘thank you’. Don’t go overthinking this, you knucklehead.”

Huffing out a watery laugh, Raijin nods. “Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Rai-kun,” she says kindly. “Now, I believe it’s time for presents!”

Raijin gifts Minato a brand new sealing set and handmade ink that he found the recipe for in one of his books. Minato almost cries for the second time in one hour. Kushina, of course, makes sure to digitally immortalise this for posterity.

When it is her turn, she proudly presents Raijin with a voucher booklet for Ichiraku’s that he is reasonably certain doesn’t actually exist, which begs the question of how exactly she managed to convince Teuchi to create one for Raijin.

“As for Minato,” she says, flashing her boyfriend a mischievous grin and a wink, “you’ll get your present later.”

Minato immediately turns bright red and starts spluttering, waving his hands about in panic while Kushina cackles. Meanwhile, Raijin tries to dissociate hard enough to physically eject his soul from this plane of existence.

Pointedly clearing his throat, Minato shakes his head and turns to Raijin with only slightly wild eyes. “So, I made something. A seal. You, uh, don’t have to accept it. I’d have to put it on you, and I know that makes a lot of people antsy, so I’d understand if—”

“What is it?” Raijin interrupts, guarded. The last time Minato put a seal on him, it involved imprisoning an enraged chakra beast in his body as a newborn. Understandably, he has a few hangups about this.

Minato shifts, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handing it over for Raijin to examine. “It’s an offshoot of my Hiraishin seal. Kind of like a summoning jutsu,” he explains. “If you pulse your chakra into it, it will alert and summon me to you. It’s not really a complete two-way connection, so I can’t use it as an anchor point to jump to without you summoning me, but it would allow me to trace my way to you since it would resonate with my chakra.”

Breath catching in his throat, Raijin stares at the design, wide-eyed. Minato’s sealing hand is an elegant one. It is systematic and full of utmost care; graceful in its curved edges and sharp, decisive strokes. “Oh,” he breathes, “it’s beautiful.”

Offering him a small smile, Minato shrugs. “It’d make me feel better to know that you will always have a way to reach me should you ever need it, or that if something ever happens, I can at least find you. We can anchor it to your blood and chakra so no one else can use it. Distance wouldn’t affect the function either.” Biting his lip, he looks to Raijin. “What—what do you think?”

It’s an incredible amount of trust to place in him. Raijin is almost heady with it, in fact. Minato is trusting him with unlimited, unconditional access to himself. Just the thought has him close to trembling.

“You—” Raijin pauses, licking his lips and turning to gape at Minato. “Are you sure about this?”

Minato nods, completely unhesitant. “Of course. I wouldn’t be giving it to you if I wasn’t.” He twists his fingers together. “So…will you let me place it on you?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice thick. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Brightening like the sun itself, Minato nods. “Can I use the new ink you gave me?” he asks, leaning forward in excitement.

Raijin laughs and shakes his head. “It’s your ink now. You can do whatever you want with it.”

Minato does use the new ink. It’s cold against the skin at the back of Raijin’s neck, stinging ever so slightly when Minato anchors it to him with gentle, careful hands that never falter as they paint the arrays onto Raijin.

Kushina examines the newest addition to Raijin’s growing collection of body seals with keen eyes, a pleased tilt to her mouth. “It is beautiful, Minato,” she remarks, reaching out to squeeze Minato’s hand. “Back on Uzushio, placing seals on loved ones was common, you know,” she says, voice whisper soft. “Sometimes they didn’t even mean anything; they were just practice kanji or protection symbols. Sometimes they were barrier seals for defense or something benign to store your loved ones’ chakra, so you could carry a piece of them with you. The more seals you had, the more loved you were.” Her lips twist into a wistful smile, eyes far away. “I can really tell how much you think of and love Rai-kun. You’ve done well, Minato.”

“Thank you, Kushina,” Minato returns quietly, squeezing her hand back even as his other one finds it way to rest against Raijin’s shoulder.

Raijin reaches back to let his fingertips graze the seal at his nape and shivers. A sign that tells the world he is loved, he thinks, feeling unbelievably full of emotion. 

“Would you guys let me place one you too?” he blurts out before he can think twice. “A seal, I mean. It doesn’t have to actually do anything if you don’t want it to. I just…like the sound of it.”

Eyes widening, Kushina blinks at him. “You—you want to put one on me. Really?”

“Yeah.” He offers her a tentative smile. “I mean, you’re a part of my family, Kushina-nee.”

“I am!” She grins at him, violet eyes glistening. “I’ll let you place one on me only if I can put one on you too.”

“Deal!”

She claps her hands together. “Oh, we can do matching seals! Wouldn’t that be adorable?”

Raijin nods enthusiastically before turning to his brother with raised eyebrows. “And you, nii-chan?”

Minato smiles, all soft edges and unending affection as he ruffles Raijin’s hair. “I’d love that, Raijin.” Clearing his throat, he straightens, sending Kushina a pointed glance. “That said,” he starts seriously, “Kushina and I actually have something to tell you.”

“Oh?”

Kushina brightens, beaming. “We do!” she agrees, rising to her feet and crossing over to the other side of the sofa so she can sit by Minato. “We’re getting married!”

Raijin’s eyes very nearly pop out of his skull with how much he widens them. “Holy shit,” he says. “Oh spirits. You’re getting married.”

Which he’d realised would happen at some point even if he hadn’t processed that he’d actually get to see it happen in real time. He’s going to be at his parents/pseudo-siblings’ wedding. Numbly, he realises he’s going to literally be at his own birth—or well, his counterpart’s. If baby Naruto even happens that is. What if he has somehow screwed up his own birth? Holy shit, does that make him a child murderer?

What the fuck even is his life?

“We are,” Minato smiles. “We don’t have any final plans or dates yet but we’re thinking a late summer wedding. Just a private ceremony with close family and friends and a small reception. Nothing too big or crazy.”

Kushina volunteers the far more important information. Smugly, she says, “I’m the one who proposed. Minato is still losing.”

“I'm the one who gets to marry you, aren’t I? I’d say I’m the real winner.”

“Aw, Minato! How sweet!”

Raijin mimes gagging exaggeratedly but he can’t quite keep the grin off his face as he watches the couple bicker, bright smiles on both their faces. “I’m really happy for you guys,” he says, and it comes out too open, too earnest, but he can’t bring himself to mind.

Kushina’s smile softens. “Thank you, Rai-kun.”

“How exactly are you going to keep people from crashing your wedding though, oh esteemed future-Hokage-sama?” Raijin asks.

Minato shrugs, mischief in the narrowing of his eyes. “Maybe I’ll make that your job.”

“I’ll run away,” Raijin retorts immediately. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Well, there’s an idea,” Kushina says thoughtfully. “Maybe we should just run away too. Elope. We could go to the sea. That’d be romantic, right, Minato?”

Smiling indulgently, Minato nods. “Whatever you want, Kushina.”

“You’re so whipped.” Raijin elbows his brother.

“I know right.” Kushina grins. “It’s actually kind of embarrassing for you.”

“You’re the one who proposed to me.”

“Because you were taking too long!”

“We were at war!”

“Excuses!”

Somehow, Raijin is simultaneously nothing and exactly like what Itachi had expected from him as a teacher.

He is predictably rather hands on in the way he teaches. They have only had four days together so far, but everything he has Itachi do, Raijin does with him, guiding Itachi through each step by example and patient demonstration. For how easy-going he usually is, he is a surprisingly firm teacher, but he still maintains a thoughtful gentleness.

“You are a child, Itachi-kun,” he had said after manhandling Itachi into resting. “I don’t say this to belittle you, but to remind you that you have your whole life ahead of you. You’re never going to stop learning. Take your time and lay down a solid foundation. You have the rest of your life to build on top of it.”

Raijin is also surprisingly bent on providing Itachi with a thoroughly well-rounded education, revealing his plans to include regular lessons on history, politics, philosophy and economics.

“It’d be one thing if I was just your shinobi instructor or jounin sensei,” Raijin said, “but a mentorship is different. I am the only one you will learn from outside of your training for clan heirship. It’s my responsibility to make sure you are equipped with everything you need to survive in the world, not just as a shinobi, but as a person.”

Itachi is pretty sure the children at the Academy aren’t going to be learning about the policy negotiations and legislative decisions from Konoha’s founding, but he doesn’t complain. After all, he is grateful. Raijin has clearly put a great deal of thought into how he wants Itachi’s development to progress, and it is good to have tangible proof that his mentor is so serious about this.

Raijin is good at things like that, Itachi realises. Good at doing things that show how much he cares.

And now so much of that care is aimed at Itachi. Raijin gives him his full attention when they speak, always thinks deeply about Itachi’s questions and considers his opinions seriously. He brings snacks to training and immediately stocks up on peach tea when Itachi shyly admits that he is partial to it. He always has a kind smile to offer, and he is free with his affection, whether it is a touch to Itachi’s shoulder or a fleeting brush of sunny chakra.

Some part of Itachi is loathe to trust it. How can anyone be so kind? So free with his joy and his regard? What has Itachi done to deserve it? What can he do to keep this forever?

A much larger part of him holds onto every second greedily, eager for more and unwilling to let go. He doesn’t know how much longer this will last though he is tentatively hopeful that he has some time before he has to start worrying about Raijin getting rid of him. Until then, however, Itachi will cherish every moment and keep it pressed close to his heart.

He refuses to miss anything, which is why he always pays rapt attention to what Raijin is saying. Itachi has always been good at staying quiet and listening to grownups, but Raijin likes it when Itachi asks questions, so he tries to do that. He wants his mentor to like him. He wants Raijin to keep smiling at him.

“How is Konoha going to pay off its debt?” he asks over lunch, mentioning a topic he has heard his parents discuss a lot lately.

Today, they are in Raijin’s apartment so Itachi can be introduced to the beginner concepts of fuuinjutsu. From across the small, worn dining table, Raijin hums and flashes Itachi a smile as he always does when he is pleased about Itachi taking initiative. Bashful, Itachi ducks his head and hides a smile of his own around a mouthful of steamed rice.

“Do you know why we are in debt?” Raijin asks.

“Because of the war.”

“Correct.” He nods. “Konoha borrowed money from the Continent’s central bank and from private investors to fund war expenses. They had to do this because the village borders were closed which meant that no export or import was happening and missions were severely restricted, so there wasn’t enough income to sustain the village while also paying for all the extra weapons and resources.”

Itachi hums. “How long can the village stay in debt?”

Raijin shrugs. “The specifics can depend, but a couple of years at least. Of course, that doesn't mean that we can just sit back and relax till the collectors come around. Konoha borrowed money because it doesn’t have any, which means we have to start earning and fast. Luckily for us, the Sandaime Hokage is a very smart man.”

Nodding at this, Itachi volunteers, “Mother said the same thing.”

“Because your mom is very smart too,” Raijin says, smiling. “Do you know the first thing Hokage-sama did?”

“Open borders?” Itachi suggests.

“Good guess, but before that, he actually decided to change up a few of Konoha’s tax policies. See, usually, Konoha doesn’t really involve itself in the market too much. There are no service or production taxes which means that sellers get to keep all the money they make, which makes Konoha so popular among merchants because, this way, they make more profit. And that hasn’t changed much, except for a new luxury tax.”

“Luxury tax,” Itachi pronounces slowly.

Raijin nods. “Tax on typically expensive stuff like fancy alcohol or fancy coffee or fancy clothes or fancy artwork. You get the gist—all the fancy stuff is now being taxed. Including tobacco, which I bet Hokage-sama is thrilled about considering how he smokes like a chimney.”

Lips twitching, Itachi hums. “I see.”

“Right, so then Konoha reopened borders. It’s also investing in rebuilding and the technological advances civilians made while shinobi were busy with war. The idea there is to create opportunities for more job openings for people to get income flowing regularly again,” Raijin explains.

“So that they can pay income taxes,” Itachi infers.

His observation is rewarded by a wide smile. “Look at you—well done, Itachi-kun!”

Itachi smiles back. He has been trying to do that more often too. It seems to make Raijin happy.

“The most important contribution, however,” Raijin continues, smoothly bringing their discussion back on track, “comes from selling and renting out government owned land. Konoha has always been on very fertile fields and the Shodaime’s mokuton had lingering effects which a lot of people are interested in making use of for agriculture and stuff. Land here is really valuable, and Sandaime-sama made excellent use of it to get the village back on its feet. And now, he gets to incur extra taxes on those buyers and collect regular rent.”

“So, the village is doing okay now?”

Making a vague hand gesture, Raijin shrugs. “Not quite yet, but with the sheer volume of missions that Konoha carries out, it should get there soon enough. The important thing is that it’s a really solid starting point. Remember what I told you about strong foundations being half the battle? It’s the same thing.”

Itachi nods in understanding, looking down at his empty bowl. “I guess a lot goes into being the Hokage.”

“It’s a lot of work,” Raijin agrees. “Being the strongest isn’t enough for the decisions that affect our daily lives. Governing almost always ends up being collaborative to some degree because it’s impossible for one person to be an expert in all the fields that are necessary to lead a group of people. Everyone has a role to play. There’s a lot more to it than brute force—stuff that is equally, if not more, important.”

Fingers tapping against the grain of his chopsticks, Itachi admits, “Some of my clan elders tell me I could be Hokage.”

“You could be,” Raijin acquiesces. “Do you want to be?”

“I don’t know.” Itachi bites the inside of his cheek, considering. He hasn’t dared say this out loud to anyone before, and for good reason. He is the heir to a noble shinobi clan. There are expectations that people want him to meet, standards that he has to live up to. But…but Raijin is supposed to be his teacher. His mentor. He should know if only to tailor Itachi’s education to fit his needs. “I don’t…really like the idea of fighting.”

He risks a glance up at his mentor, but Raijin’s face is unreadable.

Itachi puts his chopsticks down and clasps his hands in his lap. “I know what is expected of me,” he says quietly, “and I will do what I must. I will bring honour to myself, my parents, and my clan.”

When warm chakra reaches out to wrap around him, Itachi all but gasps in surprise. He had expected a reprimand, had been prepared to brace himself and set aside childish, selfish whims. He had not expected this comfort.

“It’s okay to not want to fight, Itachi-kun,” Raijin says softly, meeting Itachi’s gaze. “It is not cowardly or weak of you. In fact, I think it shows how wise and kind you are. Thank you for telling me.”

Itachi stares, uncomprehending. “I—is it really okay?”

“Absolutely.” Raijin nods. “There are plenty of other ways to contribute that don’t involve fighting. You could join research and development and help discover new techniques, theories and invent technology. You could join the intelligence division and go into decrypting. You could become a medic. You could specialise in economics or strategy and become an advisor to either the Hokage or the jounin commander. You could become an archivist and keep records. You could become a teacher or join the postal service. You could even become a seal master and stick to defensive measures for the village or just create seals to make life more convenient for shinobi and civilians alike.”

Holding his breath, Itachi tightens his grip on his hands and keeps himself very still. For the first time ever, he can look and actually see more than one road forward. It’s exhilarating enough that he feels like he might float away if he so much as twitches.

“The future is endless, Itachi-kun,” Raijin says, smiling warmly. “You don’t have to have the answers right now. Just focus on growing up well and take things one day at a time. We’ll figure it out together when the time comes, okay?”

Itachi exhales slowly and nods, cautiously curling his own chakra around Raijin’s. He is rewarded by a surprised but pleased smile. Itachi smiles back.

“Okay.”

Chapter Text

Minato is made the Yondaime Hokage on a beautiful sunny morning. The sky is impossibly blue, the air is crisp and the sunlight is warm in the otherwise cool weather. There are colourful banners lining the streets, chatter and music in the air, joy charging through like electricity. There is pride and relief and an anticipatory sort of hope.

Raijin…isn’t there.

He’d stayed for the main ceremony and pledge, of course, before letting the crowd separate him from Kushina and Team 7 enough to give him an opening to escape. There would be too many questions and suspicion if he had missed even that. Besides, he wants to be there for Minato. It’s a huge day for his brother and Raijin is unbelievably, overwhelmingly proud of him. He’s happy that Minato’s dream came true today and that he got to see it happen firsthand.

But he had looked around at all the people gathered at the Tower, faces he barely recognises. He had seen their happiness and their relief over a hard-earned peace, and he hadn’t been able to fight the surge of crushing loneliness or the hollow sense of resentment because his people, his village never got to have this.

Raijin never got to fulfil his dream. His friends never got to grow up and fulfil their own either. There’s no one even left to mourn them except for him.

And he’s just one man. One man against time and fate. One man and his lies and his tremendous grief.

He has friends here, he knows. He has people who care. He has elder siblings in Minato and Kushina, and younger siblings in Obito and Kakashi. He has the closest thing he can have to a ward without having a child of his own in Itachi. And Raijin is grateful to have them. He is lucky to be loved by them and to have the chance to give them his own love.

But, fuck, he misses Sakura, Sasuke and Gaara. He misses Kakashi and Captain Yamato. He misses all of Rookie 9, Teuchi and Ayame, Tsunade and Jiraiya. It’s unfair. He should have been able to live his life with them. They deserved better. He deserves better.

He wishes he could just be happy for Minato, but he can’t turn his head off. He can’t help the emptiness inside him, yawning and gaping into an endless void in his chest, and suddenly, Raijin feels like he’s six-years-old and afraid of the dark all over again.

No one here even knows his name. They don’t know that he grew up hated by a village that he loved so damn much. They don’t know he has a chakra beast sealed inside him. They don’t know how his friends did their best to help him grow, how they believed in his dream enough to want to make it real with him. They don’t know how he grew up aching with the hunger for love until suddenly his life was so, so full of it. They don’t know how he has had to be brave every single day of his life and it’s unfair because Raijin is so fucking tired of being brave.

He doesn’t feel so brave anymore. He’s afraid and alone and so, so tired.

He just wants to rest but he doesn’t know how to stop. He doesn’t know how he’s ever going to be able to stop again.

Has he done enough? Will anything ever be enough?

Raijin doesn’t know. He hasn’t known anything since he grew up and his entire world ended before his eyes.

 He feels like he is five-years-old, stuck in an empty apartment with a storm outside and nobody to help keep his terror at bay.

He wishes someone would tuck him into bed, kiss his forehead and wait with him until the storm passed.

He wishes he could sleep. He wishes someone would hold his hand and stay.

Halfway through the living room window of his little brother’s apartment, Minato freezes and stares.

From the nest of oversized pillows and blankets on the sofa, Uchiha Itachi stares back.

“Hello, Hokage-sama,” the boy says once the awkward stretch of silence enters painful territory, dipping his head in greeting.

Hearing his new official title only makes Minato cringe even harder at being caught in this position. A week into his appointment as Yondaime Hokage and he still isn’t used to being addressed as such. Half the time, he still turns to look for the Sandaime when someone says ‘Hokage.’ And now this.

It’s one thing to break into Raijin’s apartment to steal his brother’s expensive plum blossom tea while on a rare break from his new duties. It’s another to get caught in the act by the heir of a noble founding clan who also happens to be Raijin’s apprentice.

Clearing his throat, Minato slides off the ledge and closes the window behind him, straightening out his flak jacket. He’s glad he decided to ditch the coat and hat at least. “Hello, Itachi-kun,” he returns, wearing a smile that feels like plastic on his face. “I was not…expecting to run into you here.”

Itachi’s big eyes flicker from Minato to the window he’d just launched himself through. Because he is a wise kid, he visibly decides not to ask. Instead, he volunteers, “Shishou is out getting groceries for dinner. He said he might be a while.”

Minato tries not to let his disappointment show at that. He’d been hoping he could spend some time with Raijin. His little brother has been unusually hard to catch a hold of lately, and while it could be nothing, Minato can’t help how he worries about the way Raijin’s smiles have been harder to find these past few days.

“That’s alright, I suppose,” he dismisses, keeping his voice deliberately light and waving his hand. “I just wanted a quick cup of tea. The one they’re serving at the tower right now is a little too bitter and watered down for my tastes.”

Itachi nods sagely, watching Minato make his way into the kitchen like this is house and not his little brother's. “Father said the same thing.”

“Yeah, I bet your father hates it even more than I do,” Minato remarks, eyeing the collection of mismatched mugs in Raijin’s cabinet. “Would you like a cup, Itachi-kun? I’m making the plum blossom one.”

Itachi pads his way into the kitchen on silent feet. He hesitates in the doorway for a second before nodding. “If it would not be too much trouble. Would you like some help, Hokage-sama?”

It’s not like he needs any assistance, but Minato gets the feeling that Itachi is a little like Kakashi in that helping would help him more than it would help Minato. Smiling over his shoulder, Minato asks, “Can you find the teapot for me, please?”

They bustle around the kitchen in companiable silence, setting out snacks on Raijin’s worn dining table while the tea steeps.

“How are you finding lessons with Raijin, Itachi-kun?” Minato asks once they are both seated at the table with a mug of floral smelling tea in front of them.

Itachi nibbles on a cookie as he considers his response. “Fulfilling,” he settles on at last. “Shishou is an excellent teacher. He is very knowledgeable, and his lessons are always very engaging. It is my privilege to be in his care.”

“And you are comfortable with the arrangement?”

“Yes,” comes the instant reply. “I am…happy with how things are.”

Minato smiles, prodding at Itachi’s chakra gently with his own. “I’m very glad to hear that,” he says earnestly.

Itachi’s snow-night-ember-smoke ripples like water and tentatively prods back, a shy smile on his face. The smile is quickly replaced by an openly thoughtful look as he regards Minato with a growing sort of uncertainty.

Minato waits, sipping at his tea. Pushing will do no good with a kid as smart and shy as Itachi. It’s better to let children like approach on their own once they are ready.

“Hokage-sama,” the four-year-old starts eventually, shifting in his chair, “may I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Minato agrees readily, trying to keep his body language open and relaxed.

Itachi chews on his bottom lip in thought. “Shishou says that you’re a good older brother.”

Warmth blooms in Minato’s chest, a smile curling at the edges of his lips. “He said that?”

Nodding, Itachi confirms, “He talks about you a lot. He always looks happy doing it.” Frowning, his gaze drifts to the stray petal floating on the surface of his tea. “Mother said I’m going to be a big brother soon too.”

‘Ah,’ Minato thinks, seeing where this is going. He has heard of Uchiha Mikoto’s pregnancy. Itachi will probably be welcoming a new sibling in another five or six months.

With the war having ended, Konoha is expecting something of a baby boom very soon. It’s quite normal in post-war settings when things are settling, emotions are high, and people finally feel safe enough to expand their families. As a matter of fact, most people in Minato’s generation are expecting to be parents soon. He knows for sure that the Ino-Shika-Cho trio are all expecting. The Akimichi heir is due in maybe another two months, and then the Nara and Yamanaka heirs will be seven or eight months from now. Inuzuka Tsume is pregnant as well. Aburame Shibi had his son last month. That’s almost every major ninja clan head that has a baby on the way then.

A strange sense of foreboding comes over Minato and he stills. He has the strangest feeling that all these children are going to cause him several headaches. He bets this is the sole reason Hiruzen decided to retire. The Sandaime had been around to see one baby boom result in all the current clan heads, and he was smart enough to wash his hands off the village before he could be put in charge of the next one.

Everyone’s going to have babies in the house, which means no one is going to be sleeping enough and they’re all going to be more miserable than usual and Minato’s the one who is going to be stuck dealing with them. Ugh. Maybe he should just retire too.

Ignorant to Minato’s bleak future, Itachi looks up with determination etched onto his little face. “How can I be a good big brother, Hokage-sama?”

Minato blinks. “I wish I had a simple answer for you, Itachi-kun,” he admits, “but I ask myself the same question all the time.”

Itachi frowns, tilting his head. “But you are a good big brother.”

“I try to be,” Minato concedes, “but I don’t really know what I’m doing. I don’t think anyone does. My experiences probably won’t be of much help to you either because Raijin and I only knew each other as adults. We didn’t get to grow up together. We don’t have the history you’d expect in normal sibling relationships. Our interactions are very much coloured by the emotional responses of grownups and our individual life experiences.”

“I don’t understand,” Itachi admits.

Smiling wryly, Minato runs a finger along the chipped edge of his mug. “Your baby sibling will never know a life without you,” he says, watching Itachi’s eyes widen ever so slightly. “They will always have you and you’re always going to have them. You’re going to take each other for granted sometimes and you’re going to fight and hurt each other too, but you’ll also probably always find your way back to each other because that’s how most siblings are.”

“You and Raijin-san are like that too,” Itachi points out.

“I like to think so.” Minato pauses. “It’s different for us though. We will always have had a life away from each other. We have to actively work on trusting and making space in our lives for each other because we spent almost two decades apart. We both grew up as orphans with no one to rely on and that will always affect our dynamic and individual psyches. I won’t ever know what Raijin had to live through and I won’t ever get to be there for him when he needed me as a kid. He won’t ever know how I was growing up either. That doesn’t mean I love Raijin any less, of course. I’ve loved him since the day we met. I’ve probably waited my whole life to love him.”

“Oh.” Itachi blinks, nodding slowly. “I understand now. Thank you for explaining.”

Minato’s eyebrows rise, mouth twitching into a smile. “No problem, Itachi-kun.” He hands Itachi the last cookie with a wink. “For what it’s worth, I’m sure you’ll make a good big brother. You’re caring, thoughtful, and very responsible. Just do your best, give your sibling lots of love, and you’ll be just fine.”

“I haven’t met them yet,” Itachi says around a mouthful of butter cookie, “but I know I already love them. Is that weird?”

“No,” Minato assures, “I don’t think that’s weird at all.”

Still, he finds himself wondering about that. About being with someone and loving them before they are even born. About knowing someone since birth, being their past, present and future in a way that is inescapable and consuming and irreplaceable. Not for the first time, Minato feels the overwhelming loss in not being able to have that with Raijin. In not being able to love his brother through every year, every day, every fight, every smile. In not being able to see him grow up and grow up right beside him.

Minato loves his brother. He wishes he’d gotten to always love his brother. He knows he’s going to always love his brother.

“Orochimaru-san is a flight risk,” Raijin says softly, breaking the silence of Minato’s office.

His gaze is a careful, considering thing when Minato meets it. He can’t help but hate that it is directed at him. ‘You’re safe with me,’ he wants to say. To take Raijin by the shoulders and shake the words into him until that uncertain fear abates forever. ‘You’re safe. I could never hurt you. Tell me anything. Everything. Haven’t I done enough for you to trust me?’

Minato swallows the weight of the scream building at the back of his throat. He puts his pen down. “Okay,” he says, “tell me why you think so.”

“It’s a final betrayal,” Raijin answers immediately, as though he’d just been waiting to be asked. He puts down the report he’d been working on and spins his pen on the tips of idle fingers. “I’ve spoken to him once about his team leaving. He’s obviously bitter about it because, as far as he’s concerned, they left him behind like he wasn’t enough of a reason to stay.”

Minato blinks, nodding slowly. “Okay, I can see that.”

“And then his sensei, one of his last ties here, essentially chose you over him to be Hokage. That’d totally be a betrayal to him even if he hadn’t already been resentful. So, now, we have a powerful shinobi whose moral compass was pretty compromised to begin with, and he has no good reason to stay in a village that has never liked him all that much,” Raijin continues. “He doesn’t even have a war to fight in anymore. He’s going to get bored and then he’s going to leave.”

Stilling, Minato is careful to keep his eyes fixed on the way Raijin fidgets with his pen. There’s a very interesting way his brother says things sometimes, Minato has noticed. It’s the absolute certainty with which Raijin lays things down in times like this.

Orochimaru will get bored and angry and leave. The Uchiha will grow resentful and rebel. The village will retaliate against a clan that dares to fight it. ROOT will become a problem Minato will be unable to ignore if he doesn’t deal with it now.

He thinks about that sometimes. Minato has been thinking about his brother quite a lot lately actually. About Raijin’s strange unshaking faith in the way some things will turn out. About his inexplicably large chakra stores and abnormal healing factor. About his advanced techniques and considerable strength and the contrasting absolute anonymity. About the half truths and secret grief that Raijin is mindful to keep to himself.

There is no denying that Minato trusts his brother. He just wishes he could feel like Raijin felt the same way.

“I’ve been thinking about something lately,” he says, smiling wryly at how Raijin blinks at the seemingly abrupt change in topic. “It’d be a good idea to invest in technology and medicine to further stabilise our economy now that we’re at peace, and Konoha has always had a rather advanced healthcare sector.”

“Uh, okay,” Raijin says, tilting his head, awkwardly accepting the shift in topic. “What were you thinking?”

“Mental health support and rehabilitation.” Linking his fingers together, Minato continues, “It’d be good to show how we care about our veterans too. I’ve been thinking about Obito-kun’s prosthetics and how we could potentially replicate something like that for other amputees.”

Nodding slowly, Raijin hums and closes his eyes in thought. “The mental health thing would be kind of revolutionary too. I don’t think any shinobi village has something like that.”

“Konoha almost did,” Minato chimes in. He smiles thinly when Raijin’s eyes flutter open to peer at him in confusion. “Tsunade-san was pioneering the program before her brother’s death led to her departure.”

“And you—” Raijin pauses. “You want to restart the program.”

“I want her to restart the program,” Minato corrects calmly. “I will be requesting for Tsunade-san to come back so she can pick up where she left off. It’s an important time for us to make sure we are giving back to our shinobi to the best of our capabilities and I’m sure that she, of all people, will be able to appreciate that thought.”

Raijin purses his lips but there’s a tentatively growing light in blue eyes that have been worryingly dull all week. The horrible, haunted sort of hollowness alleviates just a little. “She’s not going to like you summoning her back,” he warns, but he’s sitting up straighter as if a small weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

If Minato could, he would take burden that bears down on his brother and hold it for him.

“I won’t put her back on the roster for active duty.” Minato shrugs. “The Sandaime felt personal responsibility and let her be, but I need her back in the village now. She doesn’t need to continue serving as a shinobi—we can manage without her—but her research on shinobi rehabilitation will be invaluable to this endeavour. The civilian psychiatrists just don’t have the right expertise.”

“And the research with the Shodaime’s cells?” Raijin prods, guarded. “What about that?”

Leaning back in his chair, Minato considers his brother. “Well, hopefully, it will be enough to keep Orochimaru-san from getting bored enough to leave.”

Raijin’s mouth falls open. “You’re going to put him in charge of that?”

Minato shrugs again. “He has the necessary scientific background in genetics and biochemistry. Orochimaru-san also already has experience working with the Shodaime’s cells from when he conducted village sanctioned experiments to try and replicate mokuton.”

“Village sanctioned what?”

Pursing his lips, Minato elaborates, “It was during the start of the war. The program was shut down when none of the test subjects survived.”

“The test subjects,” Raijin repeats. “Who were the test subjects?”

Minato sighs. Rubbing at his forehead, he admits, “Prisoners of war mostly.”

Raijin is quiet for a moment. Finally, he says, “That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah.” Minato runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. A lot of…questionable decisions get made during wartime.” He hadn’t been pleased to find out about that one. He’d understood the logic behind wanting the firepower of mokuton added to the village arsenal, but still. “Well, the point is that Orochimaru-san is our best bet in getting a whole new kind of prosthetic off the ground. If he can figure out how to artificially synthesise something similar to the Shodaime’s cells, Konoha could start a new medical revolution. It’d be good for us.”

Hesitantly, Raijin prods, “And you’d trust him with the Shodaime’s cells. Just like that?”

Minato removes his hands from his face to frown at his brother. He can understand Raijin’s wariness—in fact, he shares it. He has never been particularly fond or trusting of Orochimaru himself. But it wouldn’t do to be so openly suspicious of a ninja as powerful as the Snake Sannin.

“Well, there would be a chain of command of course,” he says. “I was thinking about assigning the Sandaime as a supervisor to the whole program so he could serve as a liaison between the researchers and me and make sure everything happens ethically and safely.”

“Oh.” Raijin blinks. “That’s—a really good idea, actually. I forget just how much of a genius you are, nii-chan.”

Minato huffs but he can’t help the relief at hearing something almost like banter from his little brother again. Raijin has been so reticent recently. So uncharacteristically serious and reserved; like he’d gotten his heart broken while no one had been looking. He has doggedly sidestepped every attempt Minato has made to bring it up and it has had him at wit’s end.

Even today, Minato had had to beg and whine and all but demand that Raijin come to his office so they could work together if only to spend some time without his brother avoiding him for whatever reason that he is determined to keep from Minato.

“You should probably also have Orochimaru-san leave ROOT,” Raijin puts forward carefully. “His idea of ethics is already skewed and so is Danzou-sama’s. Putting those two together is a recipe for disaster.”

There is that strange certainty again.

Minato watches Raijin, studies the shadows in the blue eyes that they share. He hums. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

His brother has plenty of secrets, Minato has always known this. Every shinobi does—it’s their currency and trade, after all. But Raijin’s secrecy seems to be born of something greater, something desperate and heavy that has his brother suffering in ways he feels he cannot tell Minato. Like one man holding up the weight of the world on his back.

Minato would do anything for him. He would do anything to take the pain away and carry the world so his brother wouldn’t have to. He would hold Raijin’s heart together if he thought it would keep it from breaking any further.

He hopes one day his brother will tell him.

He hopes one day Raijin will finally safe and at ease enough to confide in Minato.

He hopes Raijin knows that Minato will always, always be there to catch him, to hold him, to take care of him, and to stay.

Chapter Text

Kakashi glares at Obito’s dumb smiling face and mentally repeats Minato’s lecture on how stabbing one’s friends is typically frowned upon by society, shinobi or otherwise.

“This is a hostage situation,” he states, frowning harder.

Obito’s smile widens, his eye curving like he didn't just threaten to set fire to the entirety of Kakashi’s mask collection. “This is marriage, Bakashi.”

“You’ve literally tied me to a chair,” Kakashi points out blandly. He could free himself, of course—Obito didn’t bother with removing any of the many blades Kakashi keeps hidden on himself—but that’s beside the point. Fundamentally, Kakashi is being held hostage. He has no doubt that Rin is running interference right now to make sure he won’t escape from his apartment and that’s assuming he can get past Obito who is pretty much on par with Kakashi these days.

Obito waves his hand as though this information is inconsequential. Kakashi feels a vein in his head pulse.

“It’s marriage,” he insists. Lips pushing into a pout that makes Kakashi feel suddenly very violent, Obito adds, “Or it would be if you actually agreed to register it.”

Rolling his eye, Kakashi looks towards the ceiling. Maybe he’ll find the answers he’s looking for hidden in the weird water stain. “Literally, what even is the point?”

From the way Obito gasps, you’d think Kakashi suggested he let lose a bijuu on the village for fun. “The point?!” Obito shrieks. “The point, Kakashi-kun, is that people are going to make fun of me behind my back for getting myself tied to a man who won’t even recognise me as his legitimate spouse. They’re going to think I’m the sort of guy who lets just any man take advantage of him.”

Kakashi stares. He hopes Obito can feel the judgement he’s trying to convey because no words could possibly ever be enough. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“No it’s not! People totally judge for stuff like that.”

“Why do you even care?”

Obito huffs. “Why do you not want to get married to me?”

Briefly, Kakashi considers flinging himself through his window, chair and all. Instead, he answers, “I’m twelve-years-old. I didn’t want to get married at all. Ever.”

Tilting his head, Obito asks, “Why not?”

Kakashi shrugs. He doesn’t quite feel like getting into how he’s pretty convinced he won’t ever be able to emotionally connect with anyone enough to marry them without his fear of losing yet another person he cares for getting in the way. Obito would make it weird and try to hug him or something. “Why do you want to get married?” he asks instead.

“Tax benefits,” Obito replies immediately.

Which…is such an in-character response, Kakashi doesn't even have it in himself to be surprised.

Taking his resigned silence as encouragement, Obito continues, “See, we’re technically married under clan law anyway, yeah? But for official things like taxes and medical guardianship stuff, the village law requires official certification, which we won’t get until we register our marriage in the civilian court. Like, if we’re already hitched, we may as well get something out of it.”

There’s a strange ringing in Kakashi’s ear like he just bashed his head into a wall really hard. Horrified, he realises, “You’ve researched this.”

Obito beams, puffing up like a preening bird. “Rin-chan helped me.”

“I want a divorce.”

“Denied.”

Kakashi narrows his eye. Obito narrows his right back.

Finally, the older boy huffs and crosses his arms. “Look, it’d be good for us to pay joint tribute to the clan and have them pay taxes for us instead. You’re the one who’s going to save more money that way! I don’t get why you’re being a bonehead about this.”

“You’re obviously just after my inheritance; don't act like you care.” Kakashi rolls his eye while Obito splutters. He finally gets why Obito has been so insistent on them legitimising the entire circus with the sharingan transplant. “The Uchiha can’t even actually pay taxes for me, you know.”

That puts a stop to the fountain of incoherence Obito had been spouting while flustered at getting caught out. The elder boy frowns. “What? They totally could. I brought you into the clan when I gave you my eye.”

Kakashi shakes his head. “That would’ve been the case for anyone else, but technically, I’m a clan head.”

Obito’s face goes blank. “What? So?”

Eyeing him, Kakashi slowly explains, “The Hatake were dissolved as a clan because you need at least two members to be considered one, and I was the only one. So, if we’re going by clan law, in the case of any marriage between us, you’d be marrying up into my family since I have the higher status. Unless I explicitly said I was marrying down into the Uchiha clan, they couldn’t pay taxes for me because I’d already be the head of a clan of two now.”

Realisation visibly dawns upon Obito. “But sharing a sharingan works as a sort of adoption almost.”

“It would normally, I guess, but I’m a bit of a special case. Clan heads and heirs are usually exceptions to that sort of thing to preserve bloodlines.” Frowning, Kakashi admits, “I didn’t realise it at first, but I’m pretty sure that’s why your clan elders were so pissed with you giving me your eye. They know it’s enough ground for me to claim you as a Hatake, which would bring the sharingan into my family officially.”

Distantly, Obito adds, “And mokuton.”

Kakashi winces. “And mokuton.”

“Holy shit,” Obito breathes, eye wide, “I’m a Hatake.”

“Not officially,” Kakashi protests weakly, viciously trying to tamp down on the more instinctive part of him that perks up at the thought of potentially having a pack again.

Obito ignores him with practiced ease, a crazed gleam of delight in his eye. “I’m a shinobi clan head’s husband,” he whispers to himself.

It’s not the first time Kakashi realises that Obito is mildly power hungry.  

“The political ramifications would be huge, Obito,” Kakashi reminds impatiently. “Reviving my clan would mean reclaiming my seat on the council. The Uchiha are going to throw a whole new fit about me stealing the sharingan and, this time, the other clans might get involved too.”

“Let them.” The gleam in Obito’s eye gets more unhinged. “We’re solidly protected by clan and civilian law. If they try to force us to divorce, we can file a lawsuit and turn it into an issue about the village trying to butt in on clan business. Maybe we can threaten to leave the village too; I bet they’ll bend over backwards trying to keep both the sharingan and mokuton in the village.”

He's right, Kakashi realises with a growing sense of trepidation. With their cocktail of unique bloodline limits, they have a certain amount of influence they have just been electing to ignore for convenience, but that can always change whenever they want.

Against his better judgement, he says, “We could help Minato-sensei if we became a part of the council too.”

Obito brightens, looking pleasantly surprised. Great, now he knows that Kakashi has actually given their sham of a marriage more thought than it has ever warranted.

Grinning, Obito places his hands on the arms of the chair Kakashi is still poorly tied to and leans forward. “We’re going to be awesome,” he says slowly. “Marry me, Bakashi.”

And Kakashi, knowing that he’s fighting a losing battle at this point, sighs and resigns himself to his fate at last.

“Fine. Let’s get married.”

Kakashi and Obito decide to officially marry each other.

They don’t tell anyone except for Rin who goes as their witness when they go to the marriage registrar office to get a certificate. There’s no ceremony, but Kakashi does insist on some obscure Hatake custom that involves the newlyweds engaging in a spar to prove that they’re capable of taking care of each other.

Minato is pretty sure his youngest student just wanted an excuse to beat Obito up but that’s neither here nor there.

Immediately after said spar, the boys burst into his office to slam their shiny new marriage certificate onto his desk and demand that he recognise the Hatake reclaiming status as an official shinobi clan of Konoha since, apparently, Obito has married into Kakashi’s family. They’re both sweaty and tracking mud on the floor, uniforms covered in grass stains, and sporting matching manic gleams in their wide eyes.

The paperwork is all legal and processed by the end of the day. Minato stamps it, head spinning and feeling suddenly unsure if he isn’t just stuck in some sort of bizarre dream.

Kushina actually cries tears of laughter when he tells her. She immediately starts contemplating on what to get the newlyweds as a wedding present and cackles unashamedly at Minato’s fruitless attempts to escape the conversation.

When Raijin is informed, he gets a strange look on his face. “My life is so fucking weird,” he whispers to himself before promptly dragging Minato to a training field so they can attempt to process the news in true shinobi fashion—with judicious applications of violence.

It helps, in that strange way spending time with his brother always does.

By the end of the taijutsu spar, Minato feels blissfully empty-headed. “I’m happy for them,” he decides, laying on his back and staring up at the night sky.

“I’m going to laugh at them if they ever actually fall in love,” Raijin announces.

Minato frowns. “What? Why?”

“Because they’re going to be stupid about it,” the younger blond snorts. “Oh, I love him, Raijin-san, but what if he thinks we’re just married like bros and not married like husbands? What if he doesn’t like like me and just wants to spend the rest of his life with me like buddies?”

Minato chokes, immediately springing up to pat his chest while his body tries to eject his lung out at the speed of light. Raijin’s laughter rings in his ears as he tries to blink the tears out of his eyes.

“I’m going to have you arrested for treason for trying to kill me,” he tries to grumble, but his voice is shaking from his own laughter, and it just ends up sending Raijin off into a renewed fit of giggles.

Grinning wide enough for his whisker marks to scrunch up, Raijin hums happily. “Bet the advisors are going to love you having another clan at your back.”

Minato groans at the reminder and flops back down into the grass. “I was already planning on expanding the advisory panel to put their power in check,” he admits.

There’s a gasp, the telltale sound of mild choking, and then Raijin’s big blue eyes and untameable blond hair are crowding Minato’s vision as the younger man leans over to peer down at his big brother in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” he asks urgently.

Minato pushes his face away and rolls his eyes. “Yes,” he confirms, huffing when Raijin shakes off his hand and bullies his way back into Minato’s personal space again. “They were the Sandaime’s trusted teammates. Not mine.”

The grin on Raijin’s face directly contradicts his words when he points out, “People aren’t going to be too happy about that.”

“That’s why I’m not removing them from their position entirely,” Minato says smoothly. “They’re still well respected as honourable elders of the village. I’m just going to…lighten their load in their old age a little bit by introducing new people to the council. It's not my fault if that indirectly dilutes their influence.”

“Oh, nii-chan, you’re evil.” The way Raijin cackles immediately has Minato thinking that his brother has been spending too much time with Kushina—the resemblance is uncanny and does not bode well for him at all. “I knew I loved you for a reason.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Raijin,” Minato drawls even as his mouth twitches up into a smile. He’s glad to see his brother joking around again after his brief slump over the past couple of weeks. “You really know how to make your brother feel cherished.”

Raijin drops himself like deadweight against Minato and handily knocks all the wind out of the older man in one go. “I cherish you,” he insists sweetly like he didn’t just attempt to permanently bruise Minato’s kidney with a deadly headbutt.

They should brand Raijin’s thick skull a village sanctioned weapon, fuck.

Minato wheezes. “I’m going to disown you.”

“Go ahead,” Raijin says cheerfully. “Maybe then I’ll become a Hatake too. Bet Kakashi and Obito would adopt me.”

“You’ll make a beautiful family.”

“I’m sure we will.”

Minato brings his hands to his face to hide his smile but it’s pointless since Raijin can definitely feel him shake with repressed laughter. “I can’t believe they went and got married before me.”

“You really have to step up your game, man,” Raijin chimes in agreement, absently patting Minato’s chest with the back of his hand. “You lost to a bunch of tween goblins.”

“I know,” Minato sighs, clasping his hands behind his head.

There’s a brief pause. Then, Raijin says, “Have you thought about what you’re going to give them as a present? I was thinking about going classic and getting them a nice set of matching chopsticks.”

Groaning, Minato rolls over. Raijin’s head slips off and smacks against the ground, quickly followed by his brother’s pained groan and outraged cursing.

Minato hides his smile behind his hands and definitely doesn’t laugh when he’s accosted by an offended little brother.

Shikaku walks into the first council meeting of the Yondaime Hokage’s tenure, spots a grumpy looking Hatake Kakashi already seated at the table, and immediately has to smother a snort.

From the way Chouza elbows him as he walks past and Minato shoots him a knowing look of disapproval, he is less subtle than he ought to be, but Shikaku thinks he deserves some credit. It’s not his fault he finds it amusing that Danzou looks so spectacularly pissed to be sharing the table of Konoha’s most influential individuals with a twelve-year-old.

At least Namikaze Raijin is failing just as blatantly to hide the trembling of his shoulders and the way his whiskers keep twitching up into a smile. Shikaku knew he liked that kid.

It’s interesting to watch how the members of the council all fall into camps that will ultimately determine which alliances the newly reinstated Hatake clan will make first. The Namikaze are a given, naturally. Sarutobi as well, Shikaku expects. Chouza’s fondness for kids will make him soft for the Hatake boy, no doubt. The Nara and Yamanaka will end up on cordial terms with him by extension, though as far as personal alliances go, Shikaku has yet to decide. Inoichi is a toss up as well.

The Hyuuga are out of question if the pinched look on Hiashi’s face is any indication. Conversely, Tsume looks delighted by Hiashi’s displeasure and will probably ally the Inuzuka with the boy on principle, just to stick it to her former teammate. Shibi is difficult to predict; he’s a smart man with his own ideals and agendas, and Shikaku has trouble figuring out what the man is thinking at the best of times.

Everyone had heard of the colossal fit the Uchiha apparently threw when they found out they lost Uchiha Obito to the Hatake clan’s clutches, so there’s no likely alliance there, though Fugaku is particularly difficult to read in the way he regards Kakashi now.

And then there is Shimura Danzo who looks like his puppy was skinned before his very eyes. Shikaku scoffs and studiously looks away. Nothing to question there.

Minato clears his throat, straightening his spine and effectively drawing everyone’s attention without uttering a word. His eyes are like flint in the shadow cast over his face by the hat.

Shikaku is mildly impressed, though he’d always known Minato would do well as their commander. Fresh blood is exactly what they need to shake things up in the village.

“Now that everyone is here, we will commence with the meeting as per schedule,” he begins, his gaze passing over each face gathered at the table. “We’ll start off with a review of progress reports first. The floor will then be opened for you to raise your concerns, and then we will address any leftover agendas after that. Now—”

“If I may, Hokage-sama,” Danzou interrupts, “I do believe—”

Minato holds up a hand, effectively cutting the man off. His face is blank. “I don’t recall giving you permission to disrupt the meeting, Shimura-san,” he states plainly. The air in the room is frigid. “You will wait until the floor is open to you.”

Danzou’s mouth clicks shut. He bows his head in acquiesce and sits back. Shikaku has to bite his tongue lest he start laughing inappropriately. Inoichi himself seems like he’s seconds away from applauding.

Coolly looking away as though that blatant display of power never happened, Minato turns the meeting back towards the progress reports they’re supposed to review. It’s run-of-the-mill finance and military stuff that they discuss every three months. With the recent policy changes in trade, the ordeal is more important than usual. It’s the typical order of things to go through them first.

Shikaku can take a stab at guessing what Danzou had been trying to achieve by attempting to undermine Minato first thing, but he still finds himself in disbelief of the audacity. Sure, doing it once would likely establish a precedent, but did the man not consider getting snubbed so thoroughly?

It really goes to show just how comfortable the Sandaime allowed the elders to get with their power over him. He wonders how Hiruzen reacted to Minato sticking it to Danzou. He’ll have to ask Chouza if he saw later.

“Now that that is done,” Minato says smoothly, linking his fingers together and turning to his audience, the picture of pleasantry, “are there any concerns you would like me to address?”

It’s a purposeful way of saying things that firmly keeps Minato at the head of the discussion. Shikaku can appreciate that. Minato never does anything by halves, after all. He’s a cunning bastard with serious skill.

Danzou clears his throat. Minato turns to him with an expectant smile, almost like he’s rewarding Danzou’s patience with his indulgence. Next to Shikaku, Inoichi dissolves into a sudden coughing fit.

“If I may, Hokage-sama,” Danzo grits out, “I have to wonder if it is wise to have a child be present for these meetings.”

Hiashi’s eyebrows rise so high, they almost fly right off his massive forehead.

Minato blinks slowly, completely serene. “What child might you be referring to, Shimura-san?”

This time, Shikaku looks just in time to see Hiruzen’s gaze shift in discomfort. ‘Good,’ he thinks viciously. The man ought to be confronted with just what kind of bullshit he allowed that the rest of them have had to put up with for years.

Koharu cuts in, her eyebrows furrowed to convey her disapproval. “Hatake-kun is clearly too young to be participating in the making of decisions that affect the entire village.”

Kakashi’s eye narrowing is the only warning anyone gets before the boy bluntly drawls, “So, you want to deny the Hatake clan the right to represent their interests as a clan of Konoha?”

Tsume chokes on an unfortunately timed sip of water. Shikaku can practically sense the exact second Inoichi decides he’s going to offer personal alliance to the boy if only for putting that look of sheer outrage on Utatane Koharu’s face.

“Of course not, Hatake-kun,” Homura rushes to do damage control. “We are merely concerned that you lack enough…experience in life for meetings of such magnitude.”

The look Kakashi fixes the man with probably makes innocent children cry on a regular basis. “I have a husband and eight dogs.”

Shibi ducks his entire face behind his collar but it isn’t fast enough to hide the smile of sheer amusement. Fugaku casts a quick look toward the ceiling at the reminder of just who Kakashi’s husband is.

Raijin’s chakra spikes with such potent delight that there is no mistaking how much entertainment he’s finding in the meeting currently even though he hurries to tamp down on his massive chakra output. The little shit doesn’t even have the good grace to look ashamed. He just grins back leisurely when Koharu fixes him with a glare that could curdle milk.

Minato taps a finger against the table idly and inclines his head. “Kakashi-kun has also served in the frontlines of a war and has been a shinobi of Konoha for seven years now,” he states. “He may not boast the same experience as everyone else in this room, but he is an equal in status as representative of a founding clan. Moreover, he is also a part of the next generation—the generation whose best interests we are aiming to keep in mind with every decision we make here.” He levels the elders with an unblinking stare. “He deserves to be here just as much as anyone else at this table.”

The room is silent enough that when Tsume sniffles from her passing choking fit, it sounds more like a clap of thunder. The woman looks vaguely betrayed by all of them.

“If that is all,” Minato continues smoothly, “then I have a few agenda of my own to bring up.” He places his palms flat on the table. “First, I am planning on bringing Senju Tsunade back to the village. I’d like her to restart her programme focused on mental health. It’d be a good way to put Konoha back on the map for medical tourism and provide much needed support to our veterans and, later, the public at large. Transitioning out of wartime isn’t easy on anyone and I’d like to see how we could help.”

Chouza nods slowly. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Minato smiles at him. “I’m glad. I’d also like to explore the potential in a new avenue of prosthetics and rehabilitation by trying to artificially recreate healing properties similar to those of the Shodaime Hokage’s cells. We might not succeed but I think it’s worth looking into. If we do succeed, we’d revolutionise an entire branch of medicine. It’d be good for us economically.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought,” Hiashi observes.

“I have,” Minato confirms easily. “We can’t afford to be shy about telling the world that our borders are open again. A long-term investment like this would go a long way in doing that for us.”

Shikaku considers this. “The research might just be a drain on our funds instead,” he points out.

Minato nods. “It’s just a proposal. I’ll have a budget and timeline drawn up soon and we can revisit the idea to decide if it will be worth the risk.” He turns to Hiruzen. “If it does work out, I was hoping I could entrust supervision of the project to Sarutobi-dono?”

Hiruzen looks surprised but nods slowly. “I would be honoured, Hokage-sama.”

Linking his fingers together, Minato turns back to them and inclines his head. “My second agenda: I would like to expand the Hokage's advisory panel.”

Shikaku’s eyes widen. Homura inhales sharply and exchanges a look with Koharu before both of them turn as one to look to Danzou. To his credit, Danzo doesn’t look fazed in the slightest as he stares right back at Minato.

Hesitant, Hiashi shifts in his seat minutely. “The elders have served this village for decades,” he points out. As if that isn’t the whole problem. “Their experience and insight are invaluable.”

“And I agree with that,” Minato nods, “but I also believe that there is always room for improvement in any system.”

Danzou turns a sharp look to the Hokage. “You find our performance unsatisfactory.”

Minato smiles like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “Not at all, Shimura-san,” he assures sweetly. “I am deeply grateful for your years of dedicated service to the village. You are an inspiration to us all, truly. However, the panel exists to help inform the Hokage’s decisions.” It isn’t a reprimand at all but, somehow, it still sounds like one. “As the Hokage now, I’d prefer to have my decisions vetted even more thoroughly. I respect the experience of our honourable elders, but a village takes a lot more than that to run.”

Inoichi leans forward slightly. “Who would you add to the advisory panel?”

Blue eyes fix themselves on Shikaku and he stills under the attention, feeling very suddenly like prey.

“The jounin commander for one,” Minato says, gaze sliding away. “The ANBU commander. The head of the Police Force.”

Fugaku’s head snaps up, surprise leaking through his notorious mask of calm. Judging by Raijin’s wide eyes, not even he was aware of his brother’s plans.

Shikaku wonders just what Minato is playing at.

The Hokage folds his hands together. “And, because I so value the experience of my seniors, I have one last suggestion for an addition to the panel.” No one dares to even breathe too loudly. Minato looks back at all of them, their imperious overlord in every way that matters. “I’d like to add Orochimaru-san to my advisory panel.”

Raijin’s mouth falls open. Shikaku is pretty sure he’s the same. Minato may as well have whacked them all over the head with a battering ram.

Fresh blood to shake things up indeed.

Danzou waits in his office for his shinobi to return with their report, contemplating over all that unfolded during the council meeting earlier that day.

He had known that Minato would be difficult to work with and around, but he hadn’t anticipated this degree of…hostility. Danzou had expected that Hiruzen would educate his successor on the importance of leaving the things he is incapable of doing for the sake of village to those who are better equipped for it, but perhaps, he should have known better. Youth makes even the best of them foolhardy; Minato is no exception.

The Yondaime is too sure of himself. Arrogant. He has no respect for those who do know better than him, believing himself to be infallible. Konoha has no need for a leader who cannot look past his own pride to the village’s true needs.

Well, in the end, it just means that Danzou will have to increase his own vigilance and rise to intercept Minato’s shortcomings. The younger man will need to be controlled since he has proven that he will not be reasoned with so easily.

Adding the Hatake whelp to the council had been one thing. It is admittedly a tricky situation—they cannot truly contest the boy’s inclusion without directly undermining the status they award shinobi clans, and that will bring problems of its own to the surface. Danzou is sure Kakashi would have listened had his sensei advised he wait to claim his seat, but that is neither here nor there.

Proposing that they expand the advisory panel on the other hand—

Danzou sneers. It had been a petty powerplay disguised behind pretty words about ‘informed decisions’ and ‘easing the burden of our honourable elders’. Namikaze had wanted to cripple Koharu and Homura’s influence; nothing more and nothing less. And he has done it well, too.

The ANBU commander is sworn to be loyal to the Hokage until death. Nara Shikaku is a shrewd man, and he won’t do anything to undermine his own clan’s standing with the Hokage. He will not blindly agree with Minato, but he is unlikely to contest him as the advisory panel ought to in order to assure that the village’s supreme commander remains accountable. Then there is the head of the Police Force. Uchiha Fugaku. Danzou closes his eyes and inhales deeply. The man’s heir is firmly in the hands of Namikaze Raijin who, in turn, is well within his brother’s pocket. There is no question of where Fugaku’s loyalties will lie.

And, finally, the addition that had so thoroughly blindsided Danzou—Orochimaru.

He hates to admit that not even he can hazard a guess as to what Minato is thinking by adding his biggest contestant for the Hokage seat to his advisory panel. He thinks Minato’s subsequent decision to have Orochimaru discharged from ROOT to free up time for the advisory panel might have something to do with it, but there is no real guarantee.

So far, Minato has proven himself to be cut from an entirely different cloth than Hiruzen. He does not seem quite as soft-hearted. A man like that probably won’t deny the need for something like ROOT. But Minato is also difficult to predict and foolhardy. Perhaps in time he would wise up and become the leader Konoha needs, but as things stand, he is still vulnerable to the prideful traps of his age.

“Danzou-sama.”

Danzou opens his eye and regards the masked kunoichi. “What have you learnt?”

“Namikaze Raijin opposes the Hokage’s decision to add Orochimaru to the panel,” she informs monotonously. “He was rather incensed.”

He blinks. That is…an unexpected but not unwelcome development.

“The Hokage claims he could use Orochimaru’s unique viewpoint and sizeable time of service to his advantage for the sake of the village,” she continues. “His true motive, however, is apparently to provide incentive for Orochimaru to allow himself to be tied down to the village.”

Danzou frowns. “He believes the snake to be disloyal?”

“The term used was ‘flight risk’. Both Namikaze seem rather convinced that Orochimaru will take being rejected for the Hokage appointment as a final straw and personal slight.”

He hums. “The boy—Raijin. Elaborate on his reaction.”

“Explosive,” comes the immediate response. “He was blatantly upset. Yelling. He seemed frustrated with the Hokage, claiming that they could not afford to ignore the risks posed by allowing Orochimaru such a position of influence. The conflict was not resolved. Namikaze Raijin left the office enraged. The Hokage appeared worried.”

Danzou crosses his arms and considers this. The boy had seemed hesitant when he had turned down Danzou’s offer to join ROOT, claiming that he was happy to be serving the village as he had been and that his brother seems pleased enough with him. Danzou had written him off as a lost cause and resolved to keep his eye on the boy instead, perhaps slowly pressure him into becoming one of Danzou’s shinobi in due time.

But this—this could be an opportunity. If Minato manages to drive his brother away enough, Danzou imagines it wouldn’t be too difficult to make himself appear as the better option of the two.

It worked with Orochimaru who had been abandoned by his own team. It could work with Namikaze Raijin who has no one but his brother anyways.

Being the Hokage is not conducive to maintaining good relations with one’s family. Duty comes before all when one is in such a position of responsibility, and most cannot handle that. Cracks always start to appear no matter how strong the foundation is.

It seems the time to strike while the iron is hot will arrive soon.

Danzou intends to be prepared when it does.

Chapter Text

Tracking Raijin isn’t something Minato really starts doing consciously. He doesn’t actively even pay attention to where his brother is or what he might be doing there. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Minato finds himself just reaching for the thin thread of his chakra that spins through the seal at Raijin’s nape until it reaches the knot where it is tied to his brother’s chakra and he can catch the fleeting essence of Raijin’s afternoon-seasalt-storm-starburst like the memory of a childhood dream.

It isn’t quite as present as an actual chakra interaction would be, but it brings Minato comfort, nonetheless. Raijin’s chakra has always felt like a summer day spent on a beach; something about it is inherently soothing and bright. Minato allows himself the small selfishness of indulging in this connection between them.

So, having tracked the abrupt flare and direction change in Raijin’s chakra signature, Minato isn’t really surprised by the frantic taps on the window of his study. Still, he pauses and carefully puts his pen down before he eases out from behind his desk to approach the window.

From the other side of the glass, Raijin’s eyes glint with a suspiciously watery sheen that has Minato softening before he has even made it close enough to dismantle the traps set by the window. As soon as the window is open enough to allow entrance, Minato finds himself with an armful of little brother, Raijin pressing himself close and clinging like he’s afraid Minato will disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

“I’m sorry,” Raijin mumbles into Minato’s shoulder. He is trembling, the elder of the two realises belatedly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry.”

Admittedly, Minato had been upset by their earlier…disagreement in the Hokage office. In fact, he had been downright frustrated. It had been Raijin who brought up Orochimaru as a concern in the first place. Minato had been annoyed that his brother had thrown such a fit when Minato had simply acted on those concerns and done so in the most efficient way possible at that.

Having a spat with his younger brother—his proxy on the council—in his office, not even behind the shield of the extensive privacy seals that the Hokage has access to, had not been in Minato’s plans. It isn’t a good place to be put in; not so soon after his election to the position under so much scrutiny thanks to his age, and not with the eyes and ears that had no doubt been present for an interaction that should have been held behind closed doors.

Minato is self-aware enough to know exactly what his weaknesses are, but that doesn’t mean he needs other people to know what his relationship with Raijin looks like. To have their first proper fight end up being a public one had grated on his nerves.

Raijin hyperventilating in his arms is a pretty effective way of getting him to move past all that though.

“It’s okay,” Minato whispers back, swallowing past the lump in his throat and curling around his little brother. “Don’t cry. I’m not mad at you.”

“You were,” Raijin refutes immediately, wretched certainty in the way he looks up at Minato. He has gotten taller again; they are almost at eye level now, though Minato still has a scant few centimetres on Raijin for now. “You were upset and angry. I could—I know you were. I know I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry I did. I won’t do it again, I swear. Please don’t hate me.” Raijin’s face crumples. “Please don’t leave me.”

It might have hurt less if he had just stuck his kunai in Minato’s gut and twisted it.

Raijin’s eyes are rimmed red in a telltale sign that he has been crying for a while now. His skin is almost feverish under Minato’s hands and every breath he takes sounds wet.

“I’m not leaving you,” Minato stresses, bringing his hands up to Raijin’s face so he can be sure to look his brother in the eye. He swipes away at the tears gently and repeats, “I’m not leaving you. I would never ever willingly leave you. Why would you even think that?”

Shaking his head, Raijin crowds close to press his face against Minato’s shoulder again, fingers twisting into the soft cotton of his worn night shirt. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you in your office. I shouldn’t have yelled at all. I’m sorry.”

Minato hums and rests his head against Raijin’s. “Can you tell me why you yelled?”

In his hold, Raijin stiffens ever so slightly. He doesn’t lift his head and Minato doesn’t stop running careful fingers through his hair. “I…I freaked out. I shouldn’t have. I know. Things are—they’re different now. Better. I know that. I do.” Raijin pauses to swallow harshly. “Just, for a second, I couldn’t stop thinking that—”

“That what?” Minato prods, frowning.

“That something would happen to you,” Raijin rushes out, voice breaking. “You’re all I have left now. I couldn’t—I can’t take another loss, nii-chan. I can’t. And the snake—Orochimaru is strong. He’s smart and wily and crazy strong, and I know that you’re all those things too, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about the things he could do to you. What if something happens to you and I don’t see it coming? What if I can’t stop it? What if it’s my fault? What if—”

“Raijin,” Minato interrupts urgently, pulling away so he can look at his brother’s face. The fear is so clear in Raijin’s wide eyes and the twist of his mouth that it nestles in Minato’s heart like a thorn. “We’re shinobi. We can never really outrun the risk our profession poses to us. If something does happen to me, that isn’t your fault. You’ll kill yourself thinking like that.”

Raijin is shaking his head before Minato is even done speaking. He’s shaking again. “You don’t understand,” he insists, urgent and miserable.

There is something so horribly alone and afraid about the way he looks right now; lost and young and fragile. Seeing him like this strikes every chord of worry in Minato, pulling all the concern he has dismissed over weeks back to the surface with an intensity that leaves his own heart heavy.

He tightens his grip on Raijin’s shoulders. “Then help me understand,” he says, and it comes out like a plea, too full of desperation and fear. “Tell me so I can help you, Raijin.”

Raijin pulls away from him, backing himself into the wall and all but collapsing against it, his arms wrapping tight around himself as he sinks to the floor. “I can’t,” he says, eyes squeezing shut, an involuntary sob wracking his entire frame. “I can’t. I don’t know how.”

Minato feels an awful lot like crying himself. He hates feeling this helpless. He hates how Raijin looks and sounds like he’s in so much pain and Minato can only reach out to hold him wordlessly. He hates that Raijin is crumbling under some unseen weight that Minato seems to be part of for some reason.

“I’m so scared of fucking up,” Raijin whispers, letting Minato press him close to his chest. “I’m so scared of being alone again.”

This isn’t about Orochimaru; not really. Or maybe it is. Minato’s brain feels like it’s going in circles, chasing the ghosts of a conclusion that is always just out of reach. He doesn’t even understand what exactly it is about Raijin that doesn’t make sense to him or why his brother is such an enigma. There are no answers, and Minato isn’t even entirely sure of what the questions are anymore.

What he does knows is: “Orochimaru scares you.”

Raijin stays quiet, somehow managing to curl into himself even further.

Minato takes a deep, measured breath. “Raijin,” he begins quietly, “has Orochimaru ever done something to you? To make you so afraid.”

The answer comes as a hesitant, “No. Not to me.”

To someone Raijin knew and loved then. Minato exhales slowly. “Will you tell me?”

“I—” Raijin stops, his tentative gaze skittering to and away from Minato’s own. “His name was Sasuke. He was…my best friend,” he says finally. “Orochimaru put a seal on him. He also killed someone else I cared for and looked up to.” Raijin shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter now. This was all years ago. I just…don’t like him.”

“And still you’re trying to help him.” Minato smiles wryly. “You sure have an odd way of showing your dislike.”

Raijin ducks his head, his ears turning pink. “I don’t want him to go down that kind of path again.”

What a kind brother he has. Minato sighs and presses his cheek to blond hair that is the same as his own. “You can’t keep me from all harm, Raijin,” he says quietly. “I appreciate how much you care, but I’m not your responsibility. Some things are always going to be out of your control. No one can be everywhere all at once.”

“I know,” Raijin mumbles, voice small.

“If it makes you feel better, however,” Minato continues, “I can assign a few ANBU to keep an eye on Orochimaru for a little bit and make sure he isn’t causing any trouble.”

Raijin’s head snaps up. “Really? You’d do that?” The hope in his voice is such a small, tentative thing, it feels like a physical blow to Minato.

“Yes.” He swallows and looks into his brother’s wide eyes. “Yes. For you.”

Breath shuttering, Raijin presses his shaking hands to his face and nods. “Thank you. Thank you.”

There will be damage control to do soon, to smooth things over and prove that the Namikaze are still very much a united front to anyone who thinks they might take advantage of the brief conflict between them. That can all wait until tomorrow though.

For now, he will hold his little brother for as long as it takes for Raijin to stop shaking. He will wipe away the tear tracks and gently lead the way to the empty guest bedroom. He will tuck Raijin into bed and hold his hand until he falls asleep.

For now, Minato will make things okay in the little ways he can.

He can only hope it will be enough.

They send a trio of brats after her within two weeks of her receiving Minato’s official request (a politely worder order, really) to return to Konoha.

One of the brats has mokuton.

More than a large part of Tsunade wants to drink herself into acute and instant liver failure to put an end to her misery. She’d be tempted to try it too, but Shizune might actually figure out a way to sustainably revive her out of sheer spite just so she could lecture Tsunade back to death herself.

“I’m not going back,” she repeats through gritted teeth, glaring down at the three young faces that stare back at her from opposite the booth they’re piled in at the back of some shitty izakaya. “There’s nothing left in that village for me.”

Kakashi scoffs under his breath and Tsunade considers punting the skinny little rat straight into outer space. Possibly sensing her building homicidal rage, Rin—apparently one of Shizune’s old friends from the Academy—firmly plants her bony elbow right into the boy’s ribs.

Obito shifts and pouts. “Oh, come on, Tsunade-sama.” He leans forwards and clasps his hands together. The little money plant on their table leans towards him, but the boy doesn’t seem to notice with how preoccupied he is by giving Tsunade an impressive puppy eye. “Please? Minato-sensei said you’re not even going to be added to the active duty roster! It’s just for the programme thing.”

“Your expertise in shinobi psychology and rehabilitation is pretty much unmatched,” Rin chimes in, aiming her own wide eyes at Tsunade. “It’s your programme. No one else could run it the way you could.”

“You’d return in pretty much an entirely civilian capacity,” Kakashi points out, throwing in his own two cents. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Oh, Tsunade is going to smack that little shit’s face right off and show him what the big deal is.

Obito rolls his eye to the ceiling and groans. “That’s because you don’t emote like a normal human being, Bakashi. What would you know?”

Kakashi whips around to level the boy with a dirty glare. “Ex-fucking-cuse me? You wanna try saying that to my face, loser?”

Between them, Rin smiles pleasantly and strikes out with lightning speed, jabbing them both in the necks and leaving them choking. “I’m sorry about them,” she says politely, “they’re just working through a few things.”

“If I have to keep finding doghair in my breakfast, Kakashi, I’m going to lose it,” Obito mutters dangerously under his breath, voice hoarse from Rin’s attack.

“Then move out of my house,” Kakashi returns snidely.

“Our house, you prick. Teach your ninken some manners!”

“They’re more well-behaved than you could ever hope to be.”

Obito turns to Tsunade with disbelief clear on his young face. “Can you believe this is how he speaks to his husband?”

Tsunade raises a brow. “Aren’t you a little too young to be married?”

“Yes,” Kakashi answers unhelpfully, without feeling. “Yes, we are.”

Obito scoffs but doesn’t counter and Rin sighs, leaning back in her seat and glancing skyward as though hoping for some divine intervention.

Tsunade watches them and feels a little like she has stumbled upon some roadside circus. At her side, Shizune is poorly stifling her laughter.

“You’re doing a pretty shit job if this you trying to lure me back,” she states bluntly.

Kakashi pouts and looks away. Rin looks mildly sheepish, glancing at Shizune who only shrugs at her. Obito frowns.

“I guess I should say goodbye to hoping that you could help me with mokuton,” he mumbles.

Tsunade eyes him. “How does an Uchiha end up with mokuton anyways?”

“He’s technically a Hatake now,” Kakashi corrects mildly.

“It was totally insane,” Obito waves his hand. “I got kind of crushed in a cave in and it was pretty touch and go for a hot second there, but then I got rescued, except the rescuer was Uchiha Madara, which is like completely bizarre, but apparently, he never died and was just hanging out in a bunch of caves this whole time while plotting on how to put the entire world to sleep or something. Obviously, the dude was completely insane, but he healed me using the Shodaime’s cells—I don’t really get how or why that worked, but whatever—and now I have mokuton. I’ve gotten pretty good with it, but like, I could still use some advice if you have any.”

Tsunade is too sober for this. This is all bullshit. Her head fucking hurts.

“How did he even manage to get his hands on my grandfather’s cells?” she asks.

Three blank faces stare back at her.

Rin shifts uncomfortably. “I’m, uh, actually not entirely sure about that.”

A horrible thought occurs to Tsunade. “Did he…desecrate my grandfather’s grave?”

Shizune’s chakra fills with an appropriate amount of horror. “He took cells from the Shodaime’s corpse?”

Kakashi’s eye narrows. “And no one…noticed?”

Hashirama’s body was buried on the Senju ancestral grounds, beyond Konoha’s walls. Tobirama had personally ensured as much. She knows her great uncle would have made sure an eye was kept on the grave but it’s possible that, after his death, someone had…

The thought of it makes her sick. Her fingers curl into a fist and she closes her eyes.

“You mentioned a rehabilitation programme focusing on prosthetics based off of the cellular regeneration procedures performed on Obito,” she brings up carefully, feeling her head pulse with every breath.

Rin winces. “That’d be based off of the Shodaime’s cells as well.”

Tsunade’s eyes fly open and narrow in successive heartbeats. She lowers her voice and carefully says, “The village wants to dig up my grandfather’s body for this?”

Kakashi eyes her cautiously. “No, apparently, they’ve had access to a few of his cells for decades now,” he explains. “From the Niidaime’s time, I believe.”

Bitterly, Tsunade wishes she could have as much faith in the village she’d called her own. She wishes she could believe Konoha would respect her grandfather and her family enough not to disturb his eternal rest for their own selfish gains. How much more will they demand of the Senju name? How much more will they take from her when she already has so little to give? Well, it looks like it’s time for her to find out one way or the other.

Tsunade sets her jaw and exhales sharply. “Shizune, pack your things. Looks like we’re making an overdue visit to Konoha after all.”

Rin perks up. “You’re coming with us?”

Tsunade levels her with a scowl. “Just to make sure nothing else has been done to my grandfather’s dead body while I wasn’t paying attention. And if I find out that his rest was disturbed by your precious village…”

The unsaid threat hangs heavy in the air.

The trio exchanges unreadable looks. A silent conversation takes place between them, consisting entirely of minutely furrowing brows, shifting glances and twitches of the mouth.

Tsunade can’t fight the bout of nostalgia that suddenly rushes through her at the sight of them. Her own team used to be like that too once—able to say everything with no words needed between them. She wonders if they’d even be able to stand being in the same room as each other these days.

“At least she’s coming back,” Obito points out in a whisper that is completely pointless since Tsunade is right there.

Rin’s mouth slants into a look of consideration. “A win is a win.”

Kakashi shrugs. “Mission accomplished, I guess.”

Tsunade sighs and raises her hands to order some sake. She’s going to need it if she’s going to be stuck with four teenagers for the foreseeable future.

“Kushina and I are having a baby,” Minato declares without preamble, teleporting into the training field in a flash of yellow.

Raijin startles and misfires his wind blade jutsu. He turns to gape at Minato with wide blue eyes. A tree falls when the stray jutsu hits it. “What did you just say?”

Minato blinks. “Kushina and I are having a baby. She’s due in October.” His face splits into a grin that hasn’t left him for than a few minutes since Kushina told him the news the night before. “You’re going to be an uncle!”

“Oh, Sage,” Raijin whispers. “Are you hearing this?” he hisses, and Minato tilts his head in confusion because it doesn’t sound like Raijin’s is talking to him. Raijin shakes his head. “I think I need to sit down.”

Watching with some amusement as Raijin does just that, dropping down cross-legged onto the grass, Minato snorts. “You’re more freaked out than I was.”

“Everyday my life strays further from the realm of reality.”

Eyebrows rising, Minato walks closer to peer down at his brother. “What’s with the dramatics?”

Raijin rolls his eyes. “You have no sympathy for my woes, nii-chan.”

That’s because Raijin refuses to shares the woes in question, but that’s neither here nor there.

“I’m going to be a dad, Raijin.”

Blinking, Raijin is quiet for a moment. “You’re going to do a great job,” he says. “I know you will.”

It’s another one of those things said with the strange unshaking sort of certainty. Minato doesn’t admit that, for once, it puts him at ease to hear it. When Raijin says he’s going to be a good father with that level of conviction, Minato is helpless to do anything but believe him.

“I’m glad,” he says.

“Have you thought about baby names?” Raijin brings up. There’s a strange note in his voice as he says it, but Minato can’t quite figure out why.

“It has only been a day,” Minato points out. “We have eight months at least to figure something out.”

The grin Raijin flashes him is one that spells nothing but trouble. “I have a few ideas.”

Minato rolls his eyes. “I’m not naming my child Gamma-chan.”

“How’d you know that’s what I was going to say?”

“Raijin!”

“It’s a perfectly reasonable name!”

"It's the name of your wallet!"

“Hello, Obito-kun,” Raijin greets, blinking in surprise. “Come on in.”

“Hey, Raijin-san!” Obito grins, breezing past the man and taking his sandals off at top speed. “Oh, man, you will not believe the week I’ve had. I’m still trying to process the fact that we got to meet Senju Tsunade herself. I mean, we’ve met Jiraiya-san obviously but he’s kind of a loser to be honest, so it has never really felt like meeting a celebrity. And Orochimaru-san has that vibe, I guess, but mostly he just scares me because I can never tell what he’s thinking. What if he’s annoyed and randomly decides to eviscerate me on the spot or something, you know? But Tsunade-san is so cool—”

Raijin smiles, eyebrows raised and holds his hand up to silence Obito. “Let’s move to the kitchen and you can tell me all about it,” he suggests, gently taking the boy by the shoulder and beginning to direct him into the apartment. “Itachi’s a light sleeper and he hasn’t been sleeping well at all recently. I’d rather not risk waking him up.” Sighing, he laments, “I knew I should have checked on my ink stores. Now I’m out and there’s not a spare silencing seal in this house.”

Obito tries not to tense but it’s obvious from Raijin’s questioning glance that he has failed. He sighs and hesitantly asks, “Itachi-kun is over?”

The knowing look Raijin shoots him makes him kind of want to melt right through the tiled floor of the kitchen. “He is,” Raijin confirms, smoothly pushing Obito into a chair at the dining table. “His mother asked if he could stay the night. I’ve already been forcing Itachi to take naps during our breaks in the day anyway, so I figured he may as well just get the sleep he needs at night.”

“And he can’t get that at his place?”

His skeptical tone earns him a silent look of warning, but it’s a genuine question, so he shrugs.

Raijin sighs and sets down two glasses of orange juice. “I have a seal on my bed frame that alerts me every time the brain activity of the person sleeping on it indicates distress relating to a nightmare,” he explains, taking a seat across from Obito. “It wakes me up whenever I’m starting to have a nightmare, and it lets me know when Itachi needs me there to calm him down.”

Couldn’t Itachi’s parents just do that for him at home?

The question must show on his face because Raijin’s face sets itself into a grimace that has Obito cringing even though he didn’t say anything this time.

“Itachi…recently got his sharingan,” the man says softly. Obito knows this already. According to the granny he still gets his fruits from, the main family had done a whole ceremony at the compound’s shrine for the occasion and everything. “I know it is considered an honour for your clan, Obito-kun, but as it is, the sharingan is only triggered when you experience a highly emotional event and then keeps the memory of it forever. Itachi’s father—he took Itachi to the capital recently for something and they happened across a squad of Konoha shinobi dealing with a rebel group near the border. Fugaku-san thought it important for his heir to witness such a thing.”

Obito pauses. “Oh.”

Exhaling harshly, Raijin rubs at his eyes and nods. “I can’t say I’m very happy about it,” he admits, sounding tired. “Itachi ends up getting more distressed when his father wakes him up from a nightmare because it blurs the line between dream and reality for him. And he has been trying to keep himself awake all night because he doesn’t want to disturb his pregnant mother. Either way, he hasn’t been resting as a child his age should, so Mikoto-san asked if I could keep him for the night.”

Great, now Obito feels like an asshole. He winces and wraps his fingers around his glass. “Will he stay with you for a while?”

Raijin regards him with a look of consideration. “I don’t know,” he says after a moment. “I’ve offered. Mikoto-san said she will be staying with her mother for the moment, so maybe she’ll collect Itachi tomorrow or the day after.”

Mikoto must be seriously pissed with her husband if she isn’t even staying at the main family’s house. Obito had assumed she’d gone because of a pregnancy thing, but the clan head being in the doghouse might be the true explanation.

Admittedly, Obito had been envious at first. He hadn’t received his own sharingan until he was thirteen and Itachi had gotten his own at four. The entire clan is still talking about how it means great things for Itachi and the Uchiha. An exceptional shinobi come to them just in the nick of time. Itachi could be what the Uchiha need to turn their reputation around. The entire village would look upon him as extraordinary and it would reaffirm the standing of his clan as well.

The Uchiha had looked upon Obito like he was a time bomb waiting to blow when he came back from the dead, two tomoe spinning in his one sharingan and mokuton in hand. And Obito had proved their mistrust to be well placed when he up and left them for the Hatake name.

He doesn’t really blame himself for that. Perhaps he should and he probably would have a year ago when he’d still been desperate to prove himself to a clan that had never really wanted him. But he and Kakashi have been talking a lot lately and Obito has decided that it isn’t wrong for him to leave when they had only ever made him feel unhappy and lesser than them. He’s a good shinobi, he knows. He’s good at his job, he’s a good friend and he’s a damn good husband. Obito isn’t going to spend his whole life running after people who were never good enough to give him a chance.

Itachi…has always seemed to be the opposite. A genius and beloved for it right from the start. But it has to be a lot of pressure. The kid is only four and hailed within the Uchiha compound like some sort of messiah. Obito has never seen him laugh or mess around like kids his age should be doing.

A sharingan at this age isn’t really going to make things better for Itachi, is it?

Obito sighs and closes his eye. “You should get him to start activating the sharingan during the day,” he says after a long moment of fragile silence.

Raijin’s brows furrow. “What for?”

“It helps.” Obito purses his lips, fingertips tapping against the glass in his hands. “Dreams help us process stuff sometimes or something, right? Like, that’s why you’ll see familiar people and stuff in them. It helps when you have a selection of permanent memories to feature in your dreams that aren't traumatic.”

Realisation blooms on Raijin’s face. “That’s a great idea, Obito-kun!” He grins, reaching over to clumsily pat Obito’s head. “I’ll get Itachi started on that from tomorrow. Thank you,” he adds, smiling fondly.

Flushing, Obito downs the rest of his orange juice. “It’s no big deal,” he deflects. “One of the jii-chan from the grocers told me that’s what he did. Passing on wisdom to the next generation and all that, you know?”

Raijin props his chin up on his palm and smiles indulgently at Obito. “Of course,” he plays along. “I’ll be sure to let Itachi-kun know he owes you his thanks.”

“You really don’t have to,” Obito assures, shifting uncomfortably.

“Well, I’m not going to take credit for your good ideas,” Raijin counters easily. “I, for one, am grateful for you giving me a good starting point for helping Itachi with his sharingan. It’s not like I have personal experience to go off of.”

Obito pauses at that. “Usually, kids have clan elders and records to fall back on to learn how to operate the sharingan. There’s like manuals and stuff kept in the shrine archive that we can ask to see. And, I mean, Itachi’s parents both have sharingan too. They’ll teach him.”

Raijin nods. “I’m sure they will. I just want to make sure I can be of help too if Itachi wants it. He’s still working on being open about needing help and he gets intimidated easily. He learns better when he feels relaxed and safe enough in his environment to allow room for mistakes.”

So, Itachi is shy about who he feels comfortable enough to admit weakness too. Obito sighs and leans back in his chair. Nice. The Uchiha have given a toddler crippling anxiety.

“Isn’t it the parents’ whole job to keep their kid happy and healthy?” he asks rhetorically.

Smiling wryly, Raijin shrugs. “Itachi’s parents love him,” he says slowly, “but his father can be a little hard on him.”

The more Obito hears and thinks about it, the more that sounds like an understatement.

“The Uchiha are in a tough spot right now in the village,” Raijin states softly, idly tracing the droplets of condensation that slip down his empty glass. “It’s easy to get caught up in situations like that. Things end up getting neglected in favour of bigger problems. It’s not good, of course, but…it isn’t easy either.”

Obito exhales slowly. He kind of gets what Raijin is talking about. It’s simply the way of the shinobi world. They prioritise strength and neglect softness. That’s how survival mode works. Ideally, the ideology wouldn’t come at the cost of children but…Obito’s starting to realise that they rarely get to exercise that kind of mercy. And it isn’t right, but…like Raijin said—it isn’t easy. How does anyone start to change the world?

“Maybe Kakashi and I should adopt Itachi or something,” he muses aloud, eye narrowing. Raijin snorts loudly. “I mean, he and I have got to be related one way or another. I’m sure an argument can be made. The three of us can figure the sharingan out together. It’ll be great!”

Raijin shakes his head but he’s laughing so Obito is pretty sure he has said something right. “Never change, Obito-kun.”

Obito grins back. Rin will like having a new scheme to work on.

Operation: Steal Itachi For His Own Good and Happiness is officially a work in progress.

Fugaku walks into the Hokage’s office with a headache the size of Land of Wind and an ache in his knee that tells him it’s going to rain soon. It clicks loudly as he dips into a salute and he winces.

It has been four days and Mikoto is still at his mother-in-law’s house. Itachi was temporarily been left in Namikaze Raijin’s care but is with Mikoto again now. Fugaku…has taken to sleeping in his office more often than not.

These days, it really is starting to feel like he can do nothing right. He feels constantly on the edge of something, like the slightest thing will pull his hairpin trigger and it will all come crumbling down around him and he doesn’t know what to do or—

The Hokage has called him for something important today according to the falcon that had delivered his summon. Fugaku hopes it won’t take too long. He skipped dinner last night and he didn’t have time for breakfast today; he can feel the toll it’s starting to take on him when combined with the poor sleep he has been getting.

“Ah, Fugaku-dono,” Minato greets, looking up from the impressively thick looking report on his desk. “Come in. Have a seat. Thank you for coming despite the short notice.”

The blond is sporting eye bags and his smile has an edge of exhaustion creeping in at the edges. Fugaku can relate. He drops into the offered chair harder than he means to, but Minato looks sympathetic at least.

“I assumed it must be a matter of urgency for you to summon me without prior notice.”

“You assumed correctly,” Minato sighs, carefully setting aside the report he’d been occupied with and flaring his chakra in a manner that Fugaku knows to activate the privacy seals in his office. The younger man folds his hands on his desk and fixes Fugaku with a look of seriousness. “I have a matter I’d like the Police Force to investigate with the utmost discretion.”

Fugaku straightens, at once snapping to full alertness, headache forgotten. “How can we help you, Hokage-sama?”

Minato reaches for the pile of files on his desk and pulls out a thin folder, sliding it to Fugaku. “The civilian head of finance was looking into the funding of some of the village orphanages recently and she noticed some discrepancies. She conducted a brief inquest into the matter before bringing the issue to me because she believed a formal criminal investigation would be more suited to deal with the problem.”

Frowning down at the summary on the first page of the report, Fugaku looks back at a grim-faced Minato with wide eyes. “How many?”

“The current estimate is at least a hundred,” Minato admits, passing a hand through his hair. “Of those, less than half have been filed as missing persons reports.”

“Do you suspect conspiracy?” Fugaku asks sharply, fingers tense around the spine of the folder.

Minato purses his lips into a thin line. “I am…not hopeful, Fugaku-san,” he says softly. His blue eyes are dark, narrowed as though he is in pain. “It could all be coincidence, but—”

“Coincidences so rarely exist in our world,” Fugaku finishes bleakly.

“More than a hunred orphans disappearing without a trace over a course of nearly thirty years,” Minato intones, solemn. “And that is only what we know before an actual investigation has even taken place. Apparently, the matter was briefly brought up to the Sandaime fourteen years ago.”

Fugaku tenses. “And what happened?”

Minato sighs. “The very next day, Kiri blew up Daijin Bridge and took down three of our biggest supply lines with it.”

The headache comes back with a vengeance and Fugaku is unable to resist the urge to presses his fingers to his temple. “The matter was set aside and forgotten,” he infers. “If this gets out, the people will be up in arms. Several of those orphans are children of martyrs.”

“It is the appropriate response,” Minato states, tilting his head, eyes dark. “I don’t intend to keep it from them either. I believe Konoha has a right to know. The case will be kept under wraps until the investigation is complete so as to not impede it with outside interference or public sentiment, but the findings will be made public thereafter. I will not be the kind of leader who plays with his people’s lives from the shadows. That isn’t the kind of power I am interested in.”

Fugaku stares. “They will demand justice.”

“And they will have it,” Minato returns unflinchingly. “You will help me ensure that they do.”

Of course, he will. Fugaku has always done his duty.

“What if they ask for the Sandaime to face consequences?” he challenges. “A case could be made for negligence.”

Minato’s eyes narrow ever so slightly as he leans back in his chair. “We’ll see when the time comes,” he says after a moment. “The matter will likely be taken to court. It is not for you and I to decide who faces which consequences. Our job is to ensure that we find the truth to the best of our ability.”

Fugaku dips his head. “Of course, Hokage-sama. I will ensure that the matter is handled with the care and attention it deserves.”

“I trust you will,” Minato agrees. “I will be assigning you an ANBU liaison so you can request their assistance with the investigation.”

Pausing, Fugaku regards the Hokage carefully. “I assure you the Police Force is more than capable of handling this responsibility.”

The look Minato fixes him with is severe. His face is unreadable, but he makes Fuagku feel an awful lot like a butterfly pinned down to a board. “This isn’t about you or your Police Force, Fugaku-dono.”

Minato’s voice is soft, but it rings through the room like a clap of thunder. Fugaku flinches before he can stop himself.

“Over a hundred orphans are missing, and this is the village that has failed them,” Minato continues. “This is not the time or place to drag your politics into it. You will liaison with the ANBU if you need to because they have more expertise in infiltration and tracking. You will open your Force to other shinobi if I deem their skills more suitable to aid this investigation. You will do your job and you will do it well. Do you understand?”

Swallowing, Fugaku dips his head. “Yes, Hokage-sama. My apologies.”

“I’d like a weekly progress report. I’ll consult with our accountants and get back to you about the budget and resource allocation for this investigation since I expect it will be a big one,” Minato carries on smoothly, dismissing the tension in the air as though he doesn’t even register it. “As always, if you think you need more, submit a request and we’ll look it over as soon as possible.”

Fugaku nods. “Will that be all, Hokage-sama?”

“I believe so.” Minato hums, drumming his fingers on his desk lightly. “I am entrusting this to you with the expectation that you will see this matter brought to light, Fugaku-dono. Do not disappoint me.”

Fugaku inclines his head in silent acknowledgement. This is an opportunity and a duty. He’s good with both those things.

He sweeps out of the Hokage Tower, folder heavy in his hand. It seems like he’ll be sleeping in his office again.

Chapter Text

The strange thing about Konoha is how little it truly seems to change over time.

The same impossibly tall trees extend up to clear blue skies, the same crispness in the air that comes with the arrival of spring, the same chatter and bustle of a village teeming with life.

It’s like no time has passed at all since Tsunade left.

She used to find it comforting—knowing that she’d always have this consistency at the very least. These days, she can’t help but feeling slightly resentful of how it’s as though nothing has changed in this village even though her entire world was turned upside down within these walls. Truly, the consistency is all she has now.

Dan and Nawaki are gone, Tsunade hasn’t spoken to the boys she used to consider her brothers in nearly a year, two wars have razed the shinobi world, and yet, Konoha stands here unchanged.

Like the only one to have changed is Tsunade herself.

Standing in Minato’s office—her sensei’s old office—is a bit like finding an old skeleton in her closet. A small part of her is enraged at having been dragged back like this. Mostly, though, she just wants to grab Shizune and return to a life on the roads where no one knows her and she doesn’t have to stare open wounds in the face.

“It’s been a while, Tsunade-san,” Minato acknowledges, a polite edge to his smile. “Welcome back.”

“Happy to be here, Minato-kun,” she drawls in a tone that makes it clear she is anything but. "Or should I say Hokage-sama now?"

Minato inclines his head, unfazed. “I trust your journey was pleasant.”

She scoffs. At her side, Shizune shifts in discomfort. “Your brats are a trio of terrors,” she states summarily.

“I swear I’ve heard Sandaime-sama use the exact same description for your old team.”

Tsunade shrugs and crosses her arms, shifting her weight. “You sent the Uchiha boy on purpose.” She wants to see how Minato will react to getting called out so blatantly.

His smile only widens, a pleased sort of smugness bleeding into it. “I did,” he confirms. “I figured his mokuton would be sufficient bait.”

Tsunade’s eyes narrow. “I hope for your sake that you have a damn good explanation as to how my grandfather’s remains were used without Senju permission to recreate his kekkei genkai artificially.”

Raising an eyebrow, Minato links his fingers together and regards her calmly. “His grave has not been disturbed, Tsunade-san,” he tells her. “I’m not sure how Uchiha Madara got his hands on the Shodaime’s DNA, but nothing has interrupted Senju Hashirama’s rest.” With emphasis, he adds, “I checked.”

But she is not quite so easily reassured. “The Hatake brat said that the village has had access to my grandfather’s DNA for decades now. How did that happen?”

“The Niidaime had samples of his late brother’s genetic material from before his passing,” Minato answers without missing a beat. “He personally oversaw artificial replication of that material. I can lend you the notes the Hokage vault has on his work if you’d like.”

She nods slowly, still eyeing the younger man across the room. Minato seems to have anticipated her questions and prepared accordingly. It irks her more than she cares to admit. Tsunade has always hated being predictable.

But credit where credit is due—Minato has certainly managed to impress her.

They watch each other for a long moment, at an impasse until Minato sighs and lets his shoulders slump, the expression on his face losing its harsh edges for something more honest.

“I need your help, Tsunade-san,” he admits quietly. “Konoha needs a project of this scale and direction to shift focus in a post-war world. It’s the best investment we could make right now and you’re the only person who could get this programme off the ground with any chance of success.”

Pursing her lips, Tsunade says nothing.

Minato presses on, “I’ve read your research on shinobi psychology, you know. I really do believe it could revolutionise mental healthcare in a profession that so sorely requires that kind of targeted and high-level support. So far, the field has suffered from a lack of sufficient resources, and now that it could finally receive the funding, it might suffer from a lack of sufficient guidance. Please, Tsunade-san—do consider it, at least.”

Fingers curling into fists, Tsunade closes her eyes and breathes in slowly. She remembers these arguments from nearly a lifetime ago when she had presented them to Hiruzen in this very office. When he had shaken his head apologetically because they couldn’t afford it during wartime and, more importantly, because he didn’t consider it an investment worth making.

“Shinobi have to be stronger than their tragedies, Tsunade,” he’d said.

It had pissed her off then and it pisses her off even more now. She wonders just what her sensei thinks of her since she has proven that she clearly isn't stronger than her own tragedies.

Part of her wants to refuse just like he had all those years ago. The programme is one that will keep her tied down to the village for the foreseeable future. She will have responsibilities to things bigger than herself and, knowing her, she will not be able to shirk them for selfish desires. The freedom of her current lifestyle will no longer be available to her. Tsunade will have to once again become part of a world she swore to turn her back on.

And yet, she cannot deny how tempting it is to stay and spearhead a campaign that she believed in so strongly for almost her entire career. It is one thing to complain about the world and then sit on her ass, compliant with the way of things. It is another entirely to get a chance to actually be a part of a change that she knows their world needs. The shinobi world is too faulty, too violent, too full of loss to remain as it is. It needs to change and here, now, Tsunade has the chance to actually make a difference in a way that matters.

She can’t help it. She hesitates.

Minato sees it too, she knows. His eyes gleam and he leans forward, like a predator having caught scent of his prey. “Tsunade-san, you could ensure that our soldiers get the help they need to overcome the pitfalls of our lifestyle. To ensure that they need not suffer needlessly because there is help available to them. Help that no one is more qualified to give them than you.”

‘There wouldn’t even be any blood involved,’ her mind supplies traitorously. ‘Shizune can grow up in a stable environment and make friends her age again. You can do something to help the world that has cost you everything so no one else has to hurt the way you do. You can be good again.’

Tsunade closes her eyes and breathes, heart racing in her chest. She kind of wants to sit down right here and cry a little bit. She kind of wants to laugh too.

Instead, she shakes her head and sighs, lips turning up in a wry smile. “I’m sure you have a written proposal for this project of yours,” she says.

Minato perks up, nodding enthusiastically as he pulls a pamphlet from the thin stack of papers on his desk and slides it across to her. “I took a lot of inspiration from the archive of your original proposal to the Sandaime,” he admits cheerfully.

Catching sight of the title, she snorts. It’s the same as hers had been. Minato beams at her, completely unashamed.

“If you put me in charge of this project, I expect full free reign,” she tells him, a note of warning in her voice.

“Of course, Tsunade-san. I trust your expertise and value your opinion greatly.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Hokage-sama,” she comments, eyebrows rising.

Minato smiles. “I look forward to the wonderful things you will no doubt accomplish, Tsunade-san.”

Tentatively, Tsunade smiles back. “Me too.”

Fugaku runs a rough hand through his hair and sighs heavily, flipping open the next file of records from the orphanages of the village. The Police Force has never really had hands to spare with how busy the job can get, but they have never been run so thin either. It has been quite a long while since they have been entrusted with a such an important or time-consuming task.

Their biggest issue at the moment is the lack of missing persons reports for children who were taken specifically because they wouldn’t be missed by anyone, especially with a war constantly bringing in more mouths to feed for underfunded and understaffed public institutions. The Police Force has had to bring in the wardens and workers of all these orphanages and interview them extensively just to get them to admit which children might have been taken because of their negligence.

For any others who might have fallen through the cracks, they have had no choice except to comb through all the records dating back at least a decade to try and spot the discrepancies in numbers that might corroborate with a missing child. If they can, they try to interview other children who might remember which of their peers went missing, but it’s a bit of a long shot, especially with how discrete this entire operation must be as per the Hokage’s orders.

Today, Fugaku is finally venturing into the records of exclusively shinobi orphanages. Typically, children of civilian-born shinobi go wherever there is vacancy unless their parent made particularly notable contributions to the village or was martyred under special circumstance. Most clans already have some sort of system to deal with the orphaned children of their members, but there are always exceptions. Sometimes there’s just not enough space or caretakers willing to take a child in.

He isn’t expecting much out of this line of query, admittedly. So far, it has seemed like the perpetrator has specifically gone after children whose disappearances would easily slip through the cracks. It speaks of someone intelligent, dangerously patient, and with considerable resources to pull of something of this nature and scale.

Clan children going missing is more noticeable. Surely someone would have picked up on something.

But, as he soon discovers with no small amount of horror, Fugaku is wrong.

The timeline marks it as an escalation after seeing consistent success with the abductions. The perpetrator grew confident in their own ability to get away with their crime, and the terrible thing is that they succeeded. There were a few reports filed at first for the missing children, but the files were quickly closed after marking them as runaways or lost causes.

Fugaku shoots to his feet, heart hammering in his throat. He will need to comb through every child disappearance of his own clan to make sure, but he’s starting to see a dangerous pattern here and if he’s right—

They are dealing with a far more dangerous threat than they were prepare for.

The Hokage will need to be informed.

“And there we go,” Kushina murmurs, leaning away and setting her brush down. “All done.”

Raijin cranes his neck to study the seal blossoming over his shoulder as best as he can. “Do you think it works?”

“One way to find out,” Kushina answers, reaching for the identical design on her own shoulder. She pushes in a tentative amount of chakra and they both hold their breaths as they watch a subtle purple glow bleed into the ink. A heartbeat later, Raijin’s seal lights up a pale blue as well, pulsing a pleasant warmth through him before both seals return to their powered down state.

“Nice!” Raijin cheers, lifting his hand for a high-five.

Kushina smacks her hand against his hard enough to leave both their palms bright red in the aftermath. Raijin hisses through his teeth at the sharp sting but she looks unfazed, too busy grinning wide to really notice. “I told you it would work!” she crows, yanking the younger man into a hug and rocking him side-to-side none too gently. “I’m so proud of us!”

“Yeah, I could tell,” Raijin wheezes out, half laughing in her hold.

Pulling back, she ruffles his hair for good measure before finally sitting back. “I wonder why they’re different colours,” she muses out loud. “I wasn’t expecting them to light up like that.”

Raijin shrugs. “I kind of like it though,” he admits. “Adds a bit of character.”

Kushina nods in heartfelt agreement. “You’d make a great Uzumaki, Rai-kun. You sure you don’t want me to steal you from Minato?”

The smile on Raijin’s face is a twisted, wistful thing. “Sorry, Kushina-nee. I’m flattered but I’m pretty committed to the Namikaze thing now.” Looking away, he busies himself with stowing away his own sealing supplies. “Besides,” he adds, forcefully conversational, “now that you and nii-chan are getting married, it won’t matter.”

Eyeing him carefully, Kushina hums. “I guess,” she allows, tilting her head. “Not that I’ll be changing my name. Uzumaki Kushina sounds too badass for me to give it up.”

Raijin flashes her a grin. “Good on you for having your priorities straight, nee-chan.” His eyes narrow into a thoughtful squint. “Wait, which surname is your kid gonna take?”

“We’re still thinking about it,” she answers, waving a hand noncommittally. “I mean, Namikaze will tie the baby solidly to Minato and you, and you’re both pretty high profile now. But anyone with just a little determination and common sense could also figure out that I’m a jinchuuriki and the only other Uzumaki in this village.”

“Which is pretty high profile too,” Raijin infers knowingly.

“Exactly.” Kushina sighs and shakes her head. “The people of my village still get hunted down, you know. The Uzumaki name comes with a heavy legacy these days; a dangerous one.”

Raijin frowns, pursing his lips. “It’s not fair.”

Jaw clenching, Kushina looks away. “No, it isn’t,” she agrees, voice whisper soft. “They didn’t—We didn’t ask for this. To lose our home, our island, and then to be hunted like some sort of prized game, it’s—” She cuts herself off and runs a hand through her hair. “Nothing about it is fair. Or right.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like it’s your fault.” Kushina smiles wryly, patting him gently on the cheek. “There’s more than enough blame to go around for that.”

Watching her carefully, he probes, “Yeah?”

She shrugs. “Kirigakure lead the attack. Konoha failed to reach Uzushio on time and then failed to provide any useful aid to the scattered survivors. Most of Uzushio’s other allies didn’t bother extending their hands out either. The weight of my people’s deaths rests solely on the shoulders of the many who failed us.” Steel in her eyes, she says, “Uzushio deserved better of her friends.”

For a moment, Raijin holds his breath. He breathes out a slow measured breath. “How did you forgive Konoha?”

Kushina’s gaze fixes itself to the wooden floorboard of her living room. Softly, she admits, “I didn’t. I still can’t. Uzushio was my home.”

“And Konoha?”

Her lips twitch into a humourless smile. “When I was younger and angrier, I used to think of this place as my prison.”

The words ring in the air between them like the aftermath of an explosion. Raijin finds himself having to remember to breathe in. He hadn’t known of this side of Kushina’s grievances, but he can’t quite say he’s surprised. Jinchuuriki have never been the most welcome in the villages, and it must have been an even more unpleasant experience to be ripped away from the only home you have ever known to play jailkeeper for a village that doesn’t even appreciate your sacrifice.

“Minato was the first true friend I made here,” Kushina continues quietly. “I might have gone insane if I didn’t have him.”

“I’m glad you weren’t totally alone, nee-chan,” Raijin murmurs, bumping their shoulders together.

She flashes him a quick smile. “Me too.”

For a long moment, Raijin watches her carefully in his peripheral vision. Slowly, he asks, “Have you ever spoken to the kyuubi?”

Kushina inhales sharply. “He doesn’t really have much to say that isn’t cursing at me and humanity at large.”

Shrugging, he folds his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them. “I mean, one would think you could kind of relate to each other.” When Kushina only looks at him incredulously, Raijin throws his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying! Like, you guys get taken from your home and then stuck in a situation where you’re bound to another being against your will and you pretty much aren’t allowed to leave. Shouldn’t there be some sympathy?”

“Is a chakra beast even capable of something like sympathy? Something so…humane?”

Raijin inclines his head. “Have you ever tried to find out?”

Kushina frowns. “Raijin, the tailed beasts aren’t exactly anything like regular people.”

“They aren’t weapons either,” Raijin refutes, voice soft but firm. He meets Kushina’s gaze unflinchingly and repeats, “They aren’t weapons. They are beings made to be so close to life that they are literally made of chakra itself. They are old enough to have been considered myths until Uchiha Madara brought the kyuubi to Konoha’s doorstep against its will. That much wisdom, experience and life, and the tailed beasts have been reduced to nothing but weapons for shinobi means. Where’s the justice in that?”

Lips pressed into a thin line, Kushina says nothing.

Raijin continues, “I don’t see why they aren’t deserving of sympathy just as much as you and I are.”

“The amount of destruction they could cause, Raijin—”

“So could I,” he cuts off calmly. “So could you or nii-chan or Jiraiya-san. So could any shinobi with the right tools and enough determination. The chakra beasts seemed to have been minding their business just fine until shinobi imprisoned them for basically no reason. No recorded history of mass destruction.” Shrugging, he adds, “Just some food for thought I guess.”

Kushina hesitates, visibly unsure of what to say. “The kyuubi hates me, Rai-kun,” she settles on at last. “I am its jailor. There is no lost love between us. What you are suggesting is impossible.”

“Have you ever asked him for his name?” Raijin asks patiently.

Blinking, Kushina slowly admits, “No, I—I never thought to.”

“You should,” he tells her. “Can’t hurt, yeah? It’s the polite thing to do.”

“Ask the legendary Kyuubi no Kitsune for its name,” Kushina repeats.

“Yup.”

Sighing, she relents, “Sure. Alright. I’ll ask for his name if it will make you happy, Rai-kun, but don’t expect it to lead anywhere. I’m pretty sure I’m just going to come out of this with even more archaic swear words in my vocabulary.”

“You never know until you try, Kushina-nee.”

“Whatever you say, sweetie.”

“He said his name is Kurama.”

“Oh, so it did work.”

“It took a full weekend of pestering for him to finally tell me. Sorry to pop your bubble, but I’m pretty sure he still hates my guts, kiddo.”

“All in good time, nee-chan.”

Orochimaru feels the familiar chakra signature enter the izakaya and freezes before he can even think of stopping himself. He knows he has been spotted as well but he doesn’t turn around. No, the ball is very firmly not in his court for this one.

Some part of him expects Tsunade to turn and walk right of the door she just walked through. It would be on brand considering her recent tendencies of running away from things she wants to avoid. He thinks he might even prefer it.

But, instead, Tsunade draws near on silent feet, hesitant as though he is a caged animal she does not wish to scare off. Orochimaru holds himself still as a statue and waits, eyes half closed as he funnels his attention into tracking Tsunade’s approach across the bar.

“Wasn’t expecting to run into you here,” she says at last, when she has made it to his table in the very back. She does not sit, and he does not offer her a seat.

Orochimaru sips at his wine, running his tongue across the bittersweetness clinging to his lips. “I did not realise today was the day of your arrival, hime.” Inclining his head just so, he allows a sardonic smile to unfurl across his face. “Welcome back.”

Tsunade snorts. She does not look amused. “Taken to drinking by yourself, Orochimaru-kun?”

He shrugs. “I am better off this way.”

There is a sharpness now in her eyes that wasn’t there before. He does not shy away from it. He is not the one who ran.

“You won’t ask me to sit?”

He fixes her with a look of consideration. “You are free to do as you see fit, hime. I have never been one to stop you.”

The smile on Tsunade’s lips is a wry mockery of the one he remembers from their youth. She drops into the chair opposite his and sighs. “No,” she murmurs, “I suppose you never have.” Eyebrow rising, she says, “I heard you’re an advisor now. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” he responds, dipping his head. Admittedly, he is pleased about the promotion. It is the sort of validation he had thought he was above wanting, but he cannot deny that it had been nice to receive some acknowledgement and reward for his contributions. Especially after his own sensei had overlooked him so blatantly for Minato and made no secret of who his successor would be.

Of course, the promotion came with the very interesting dismissal from ROOT. Orochimaru is almost certain that his departure from ROOT had always been Namikaze’s goal, but he is still unsure if that decision was made with him in mind or with Councilman Shimura.

He would find it amusing if Namikaze gave him a way out of ROOT out of concern for him or some sort of suspicion, but it’d be infinitely more interesting if their Hokage is planning on going after Danzou. There is sure to be one hell of a fallout and Orochimaru hopes to be there to see which way the wind will blow in the aftermath.

“Will you resume your place on the council?” he asks once Tsunade has placed an order for her own bottle of sake.

She hums, glancing at him knowingly. The true purpose of his query is to gage whether she is back for good or not and this is not lost on Tsunade. She always had a good head for politics when she deigned to use it. “Pretty sure I will have to. Shizune is my ward per Dan's will, and that makes two of us under the Senju name, I guess.”

Breathing out slowly, Orochimaru nods. “I see,” he says and immediately frowns when his voice comes out tighter than he intended.

Once, it would not have mattered if Tsunade happened to see more than he meant to show. Things aren’t quite the same anymore.

Her brows furrow as if she senses this as well and Tsunade looks away, busying herself with pouring into her cup instead. There is a dull sense of victory in her subdued shame and grief. Orochimaru doesn’t bother savouring it; he knows it will bring him no joy.

“Well, I’m sure you will shake things up as you always do,” he remarks, smoothly dispersing the uncertain tension between them. “Not everyone will be happy to have you back, hime.”

Eyes narrowing, Tsunade regards him warily. “You know something?”

He stares back, measured. “I always do.”

“But you won’t say,” she infers. “Or you can’t. Are you being watched?”

“You think you aren’t?” he challenges, amused. “Come now, hime. Surely you know better.”

Tsunade scowls and downs the contents of her cup. “The fucking audacity in this village is seriously pissing me off.”

Humming, he gently swirls the wine in his glass and watches the lazy ripples across its surface. “You are an important figure whether you like it or not, hime. When you left, it allowed certain forces to move even more freely. Much has changed since then.”

“Yeah,” Tsunade says, her voice a whisper, “I could tell.”

Orochimaru’s gaze snaps to her, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the clear implication in her tone. “Stop,” he says, and it is a warning.

Something in her face goes soft and he hates it. Hates that she can still look at him this way. Like she has any right. Like she didn’t leave without a second thought.

“You look lonely, Orochimaru-kun,” Tsunade notes, and part of him wants to flinch or scream or—

He can never tell if she does this out of kindness or cruelty. When she sees hurt and acknowledges it with soft words and soft hands and tries her best to ease away the pain. He hates it and he hates her. For giving him this softness and then taking it away, he hates her.

“I am better off,” he says. He almost means it too. Orochimaru knows better than most that the human mind is a fickle thing and memories can so rarely be trusted. Things get forgotten and remembered wrong. He thinks that perhaps their time together as a team was never quite as sweet as he remembers it being.

Truly, nostalgia is a disease.

“You’re angry,” Tsunade observes. She smiles, the same wry thing that seems to have become all she can muster up anymore. “That almost makes me feel better.”

He scoffs and looks away. “Sorry to rip away your source of comfort, hime, but I most decidedly am not angry. Nor am I lonely. I rather prefer being alone.”

“No one prefers being alone, Orochimaru.”

“I do,” he contradicts. “It is easier.”

Tsunade stares, eyes like crystalised honey under the low lighting of the bar. “You really think so.”

“I have no need for fickle things like emotional ties and human connection,” he tells her plainly. “They are a waste of time and offer nothing but a clouding of rational judgement. I will never get stronger if I allowed myself to remain bogged down by such childish notions of love and friendship.”

Because she is still one of the strongest people on the continent, Tsunade does not flinch. However, it does nothing to hide the way her honey eyes darken at his declaration or how she purses her lips in clear displeasure.

‘Good,’ he thinks. ‘Let her be displeased.’ It isn’t his problem anymore. Good riddance.

For a long moment, there is silence between them. Orochimaru knows Tsunade wants him to be the one to break it. She is a coward, after all, and it is easier to let someone else make the difficult decision to extend an olive branch. Not this time. Orochimaru is a snake; he knows how to be patient and lie in wait for his prey.

Finally, Tsunade sighs and shakes her head. “What happened to us?” she wonders aloud, sitting back in her seat heavily, letting her head fall back against the backrest so she can stare up at the ceiling.

Orochimaru snorts and sips at his wine. “Such is the curse of that which is natural—it all must come to an end. We were no different.”

“So here we are,” she whispers.

“So here we are,” he agrees.

“You think it could’ve been different?” Tsunade asks.

Orochimaru watches her, gaze sharp. “I do.”

She lifts her head and narrows her eyes, brows furrowing. “This is about me leaving.”

Jaw clenching, he shrugs carelessly and says nothing.

The furrow of her brows deepens as she frowns openly. “Orochimaru, you—” She pauses, breathes in, restarts. “I didn’t—I couldn’t stay here anymore, you have to understand. Not after Dan and Nawaki.”

“I never cared that you left Konohagakure, Tsunade,” he admits quietly. “But, perhaps rather foolishly, I had hoped to be an exception.”

Tsunade stares, something unreadable on her face. “I couldn’t ask you to leave with me.”

“You could have,” Orochimaru refutes immediately. “You could have, but you didn’t because you never thought to.” He smiles without any humour and plainly states, “You forgot about me, hime.”

Appearing to be at a loss for words with the truth so crassly thrown in her face, all she says is, “Orochimaru.”

He shakes his head. “It is only fair for me to do the same, I believe. I have never been one to waste my time, after all.”

“Konoha is your home, Orochimaru,” Tsunade says softly, eyes downcast. “It was never my place to ask you to leave it.”

The words circle his mind for a minute, not quite registering in his brain if only out of the sheer disbelief he feels at what Tsunade has just said.

Orochimaru can’t help but gape at her. “Are you truly so stupid, Tsunade, or are you being purposefully obtuse?”

Frowning, she starts to protest. “Hey, now hang on a se—”

“I have not once attached myself to this village in such sentimental capacity,” he tells her, unable to keep his hands from curling into fists or his heart from lurching painfully in his chest. “You and Jiraiya are all that kept me here. I would have followed anywhere had you asked. Instead, the both of you left without so much as a second thought, and I remained here, without a home to turn to.”

Eyes wide, Tsunade stares at him as though he reached out and slapped her. “You—” She shakes her head. “I didn’t kn—”

“Don’t say you didn’t know, Tsunade,” he cuts her off, laughing cynically. “No, the truth is that you forgot. You found something better, and you forgot and then, you left. That’s all there is to it.”

“It isn’t so simple, Orochimaru,” she snaps, palms smacking against the table, causing their glasses and bottles to rattle threateningly. Her face is twisted into something that is half angry and half begging to be believed.

But anger is finally within grasp and Orochimaru sinks his teeth into it. “Really? Because I understand it quite simply, Tsunade. I understand that you believe you lost everything and then you walked away. I understand that you are a coward. I understand that if this is what it means to be loved by you, then I would rather not be loved at all.”

This time, she does rear back, unable to keep the shock of her face. “Stop,” she says, and it is a plea. Her eyes are suspiciously bright where they stare up at his. Something in him cracks a little bit like glass at the sight and he swallows, shoulders falling.

“How could you just leave me here?” he asks, and his voice comes out too raw, too small, too full of pain.

Tsunade closes her eyes and inhales shakily. “I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “I did forget you. I’m so sorry. I just—I thought you didn’t need me anymore. Jiraiya was always out of the village, and you were busy with your experiments and missions. I thought you wouldn’t care if I left, so...I did.”

He wants to rage some more and demand how she could ever think that, but he can’t quite bring himself to. Orochimaru thinks back to the days preceding Tsunade’s departure, thinks of how the three of them have acted around each other over the months and the years, thinks of the ways they have changed and drifted apart, and he hates how he can see why Tsunade might have thought it wouldn’t matter much after all this time if she up and left.

They stopped truly speaking to one another a long time before they ever parted ways.

Orochimaru swallows, feeling as though a barb is caught around his heart and lungs. “I did need you,” he admits, more honest now than he has dared to be in months. “How could I not?”

Tsunade’s face crumples. When she reaches across the table to take his hand in hers, he lets her. “I’ll never be sorry enough for leaving you behind then.”

His breath catches in his throat. He had sworn he would cut his own hand off before ever allowing himself to for his childhood friends again, but now that Tsunade’s hand in his, he doesn’t know how he will ever bear to let go again.

He doesn’t know how he will ever bear to hold on again either though. Not after all the time he had to spend picking up the pieces of his own heart and staring his weakness in the eye, promising himself he would never allow anyone to put him in such a position ever again.

“We have not been good to each other in a long time, hime,” he says, barely keeping his voice from wavering. “I too am sorry for making you think it would not matter to me if you left. It did. It does. I would have said I love you if I thought it would get you to stay.”

“Oh, you silly old snake,” she says, and her eyes are so overwhelmingly knowing and soft. He can’t even remember the last time she looked at him this way. He missed holding her hand and how it always made him feel a little bit safer, a little bit less alone.

Perhaps Tsunade isn’t the only one who forgot.

“I missed you too, you know,” she tells him. The smile on her face is shaky at best but it is more familiar already. “I still found myself looking for you to tell you things. I kept forgetting that I was trying to forget.”

Heavens, but they’re all so stupid, Orochimaru could laugh.

They had promised themselves when they were younger that they’d be better. Childish though it might have been, there had been promises of forever and always together and no one gets left behind. Even then, they had known of the darkness that plagues the world they live in and, still, they had sworn that they would be different because they had one another.

Perhaps they were simply stupid then. Or, perhaps, they were better. Brighter. Less defeated.

“How do we forgive ourselves for what we did not become?” he asks, lowering his gaze to their joined hands.

Tsunade’s lips twitch up. When she looks at him and quirks a brow, there is mischief in her eyes. “You forgive me, and I forgive you,” she says. “Simple.”

Orochimaru allows himself the luxury of smiling back. “Truly?” he challenges. “And what if one of us wishes to leave again?”

Pursing her lips, Tsunade firmly declares, “This time, we’ll go together.”

Nothing is ever quite so easy, he knows. Orochimaru can already feel the jaws of fear closing around his throat, can already predict how he will dissect everything about this encounter and all that has led up to so nothing about it can sneak up on him when he least suspects it. Tsunade’s hand may be in his now, but he can’t forget her leaving and how debilitatingly alone and betrayed he had felt.

But he also knows that he will be unable to let go. Not when she is here now, earnest and true and full of love as though there was never any time apart there at all. As though there isn’t so much unsaid, so much to forgive. As though love truly is so easy, so blameless.

He had thought that he had killed this accursed softness within him by now. Orochimaru knows a weakness when he spots one. He had thought this had all turned to rot by now.

But perhaps rot is also a heart. It is also childhood. It is also love.

He breathes and squeezes Tsunade’s hand. “Together.”

Chapter Text

“The prophecy has already been fulfilled.”

Jiraiya looks just as dumbfounded to be saying these words as Minato feels to be hearing them.

The Hokage stares, empty-headed. “What?”

Shrugging helplessly, Jiraiya repeats, “The prophecy has already been fulfilled. The Great Toad Sage himself told me. Apparently, he received a new vision about the Saviour already having arrived and finished his job.”

“So, the shinobi world is…” Minato flounders before ultimately settling on, “saved?”

“Apparently so.”

There is silence for a moment as they both stare at each other in mutual bewilderment.

Then, Minato ventures, “Who was it? The Saviour, I mean. It had to be one of your students, right?”

Jiraiya shakes his head, rubbing at his face, clearly frustrated. “That’s just the thing—I have no idea! I thought it’d be you or Nagato, and then I thought Nagato was dead, so I was sure it’d be you, but now I’m finding out that it was someone else entirely or something.”

“But Nagato isn’t dead,” Minato points out, tilting his head. “Could he have…?”

“He says Akatsuki’s activities have been too localised so far since they were focused on Hanzo of the Salamander, and I’m inclined to agree.” Jiraiya hesitates before venturing, “I thought it might have been you.”

Minato blinks. “Me?” He weighs this in his head before sighing. “I don’t think so, sensei. I’ve done good for Konoha, sure, but the entire shinobi world? If I’m the supposed Saviour of this prophecy, I certainly don’t remember doing anything to bring it to fruition.”

Throwing his hands up, Jiraiya makes a noise of frustration. “It doesn’t make sense! I haven’t taught anyone else. Konan and Yahiko are in the same boat as Nagato. As for your teammates—Emi has been undercover in Iron since she was fourteen, and I’m pretty sure Kei hasn’t saved the world from the Archives yet. Who else could it possibly be?”

“Then is it possible that the prophecy was initially misinterpreted or just…wrong?” Minato suggests.

“The Great Toad Sage has a perfect track record, Minato. He is far closer to being a yokai than any normal Summon. This is his gift,” informs Jiraiya, face grave. “Besides, he didn’t say the prophecy has changed or was wrong. He clearly told me it has simply been completed and that I have done my duty as fate required it of me.”

Minato frowns, scratching at his brow. “Did he say anything else?”

Jiraiya’s face twists into a look of distant thoughtfulness. “He said that he hasn’t ever seen anything like this before,” he offers. “‘That child has twisted destiny itself into an image of his liking and laid down the foundation for peace against the grain of time,’ is what he said. The Toad Sage did imply some exceptional circumstances at play, but honestly, he’s so old and he loses track of conversation so often that it’s entirely possible I’m misunderstanding something.”

Humming, Minato leans back in his chair. The cryptic speech doesn’t really make sense to him yet, but he supposes he’ll just have to chew on this problem for a bit. “Well, in any case,” he says, “it appears that we are at peace for now thanks to this mysterious Saviour. What will you do, sensei?”

Evidently Minato hits the nail on its head because Jiraiya slumps like a puppet whose strings have been cut. “I have no idea,” he admits. “I’ve been travelling all this time because it was supposed to aid me on my divine purpose, but apparently, I fulfilled it while I wasn’t even paying attention.”

Minato smiles at him empathetically. “You’re a smart and capable man,” he says gently. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“I guess,” Jiraiys agrees half-heartedly. “High time I return to duty without any distractions, huh?”

Eyeing the older man carefully, Minato hums in considerations. “I can’t really answer that for you,” he says after a pause, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “What I can tell you is that you shouldn’t look at doing your duty as a shinobi like it is some sort of assignment you must complete. We aren’t at war anymore, sensei. You are free to do as you wish.” Gentler, he adds, “I will not keep you, you know.”

Face softening, Jiraiya nods. “I know, Minato-kun” Sighing, he shakes his head. “Sorry for making you deal with an old man’s midlife crisis like this.”

Minato laughs, propping his chin up in his hand. “I’ve practically been working as a part-time therapist since I took the hat. You’re not that special, sensei,” he teases.

“Kids really do grow up just to break your heart,” Jiraiya bemoans, hand on his chest as he looks to the ceiling. “Well, whatever. Konan asked me to help with a possible proposal for an alliance between Amegakure and Konoha, so I’ll do that first before I return to maintaining my network.”

Minato tips his head. “We greatly value the intelligence you bring, of course.”

Puffing up with pride, Jiraiya grins smugly. “Well, that’s just obvious, isn’t it? No one is as good at the job as me.”

“Now, I don’t know about that.” Minato pretends to think about it. “Raijin seemed like he was gearing up to give you a serious run for your money back when he was unaffiliated. Maybe I should retire you and hire him as your replacement? I could pay him with instant ramen and actually save some of our budget for something else.”

Jiraiya gasps in earnest offense. “Don’t you even joke about that, boy,” he says seriously. “You don’t know the trouble that brat caused me when I was looking for him. I’m still trying to figure out how he wreaked such havoc upon my network, and Menace doesn’t even have the decency to give me a straight answer whenever I try to ask him.”

Minato’s smile freezes on his face. “Yes, Raijin is rather good at being evasive, isn’t he?”

That brings Jiraiya some pause as he peers at his student. “Everything okay, Minato-kun?”

Sighing, Minato runs a hand through his hair and nods. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “Sorry. I just—I’ve been worried, I guess. About Raijin, I mean.”

Eyebrows rising, Jiraiya carefully probes, “What’s going on with the brat?”

“I have no idea,” Minato says, sounding helpless. “I think he’s starting to break under his grief for his friends and family from before he joined the village, but he says so little about that time of his life and he shuts down whenever I start to pry. I want to help him, but I don’t think he trusts me to, and I don’t know what more I can do to make him see that he can lean on me whenever he needs to.”

There is clear sympathy on Jiraiya’s face as he listens. “Give him time, Minato,” Jiraiya suggests gently. “The kid hasn’t had anyone to rely on in quite some time, I suspect. Those kinds of habits are hard to break, especially in our line of work. I’m sure he knows you’re there for him. Just be patient. It’ll all work out.”

Minato heaves a sigh and nods tiredly. “I hope you’re right, sensei. I really do.”

He doesn’t know what he’ll do otherwise.

Shikaku watches Uchiha Fugaku with an impassive face, holding himself deliberately still to eliminate any tells. The Uchiha are so used to watching others closely, most of them are exceptionally skilled at reading body language even without the use of their bloodline limit.

“You’re making quite the request, Fugaku-dono,” he comments lightly. “May I ask why?”

He’s no good with these bogus formalities, but the Uchiha have always been sticklers for this sort of thing, so he’s minding his manners for now. Antagonising Fugaku will do more harm than good and make him less likely to want to give up the answers Shikaku is looking for.

Fugaku doesn’t so much as twitch, sitting in his perfect seiza and sipping at his tea. “I understand I’m running the risk of overstepping by asking this of you, of course, but I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t important.” He sets his cup down. “I am in the middle of investigating a rather troubling matter, you see. I have requested this information of all the clans.”

Eyebrows shooting up, Shikaku repeats incredulously, “All of them.”

Smiling wryly, Fugaku nods. “Indeed. All of them. I’d rather not risk missing anything.”

He always has been a meticulous one. Still, though—to ask for clan records on unclaimed children is a rather strange thing. Had Fugaku not been a clan shinobi himself, Shikaku would have considered it riskier than it already is.

“Are you looking for someone in particular?” he needles.

Fugaku sighs, index finger tracing the rim of his cup. He looks exhausted. “No, not quite. It is…a matter of delicacy, you understand.”

Shikaku leans in ever so slightly, and lowers his voice, “I’m just trying to make sense of this, Fugaku-dono. You of all people must know why I would hesitate.”

The Uchiha are their law enforcement, of course, but even so, it is rare that they embroil themselves with the matters of other clans. Clan conflicts are resolved amongst themselves. If the matter is large enough to warrant outside attention, the Hokage steps in. Understandably, there would be a conflict of interest if another clan stepped in and tried to assert authority or ‘control’ their affairs. Konoha’s peace would fall apart entirely.

No one is more aware of this than Fugaku. He exhales slowly now and passes a hand over his face in an uncharacteristic display of stress. Shikaku’s curiosity is suitably piqued.

“We have uncovered a rather longstanding conspiracy involving the abduction of orphans in the village,” Fugaku admits. “At first, we believed the targets were limited to civilian children as they would be easier to take and harder to miss. Now, however, I have concerning evidence that says otherwise.”

Shikaku freezes, unable to keep his own eyes from widening slightly. “Clan children too?”

“Mostly legacy children and orphans from the smaller clans in decline.”

While still within the realm of kids whose disappearances would be easier to look over, it still sets a concerning precedent. If someone escalated to this level, it is entirely possible they could escalate to targeting clan children properly if they haven’t already.

No doubt, Fugaku has realised this too.

“Have you noticed if any of your own…?” Shikaku trails off.

Fugaku shakes his head. “By Amaterasu’s grace, all the children are accounted for. I have resolved to remain on the lookout, however. We don’t yet know what the orphans are being taken in such consistent numbers for, after all. It is better to investigate all anomalies than to risk missing something.”

“Yes, of course.” Shikaku frowns. “Very well, Fugaku-dono. I will have the appropriate information sent to your office by tomorrow.”

He’s too good to outwardly look relieved, but Fugaku does dip his head slightly. “I appreciate your cooperation, Shikaku-dono.”

“May I request that you keep me updated?” Shikaku ventures.

Fugaku watches him for a moment, obviously weighing his options, before ultimately nodding. “I will see what I can do.”

“And if you need anything,” Shikaku adds, this time more honestly, “know that the Nara will cooperate.”

And with them, the Akimichi and Yamanaka will likely follow.

Clearly understanding this as well, Fugaku allows his shoulders to fall ever so slightly. Quietly, he murmurs, “Thank you.”

When Shikaku recounts his discussion with the Uchiha clan head for his friends, seeing as they haven’t received visits of their own yet, Chouza gets a strange look on his face.

“Tsume dropped by the restaurant the other day and she mentioned something interesting,” he admits, voice deliberately soft. “One of the Inuzuka whelps went missing without a trace a few weeks ago. Not an orphan; her mother has been undercover for years and simply left the child by the compound to be raised by the clan in her absence. They couldn’t even track the girl's scent to anywhere concrete.”

Inoichi inhales sharply. “Could it be the same person?”

Shikaku purses his lips, grim faced. “It’s possible. Fugaku seemed to be inclined to believe something like this should be expected.”

“To steal children like this.” Chouza shakes his head. “Clan children at that. An Inuzuka child above all else. They don’t even truly adhere to the traditional concept of orphans since most kids are raised communally anyway.”

“This isn’t being done by someone who believes they’re doing these kids a favour,” Inoichi infers.

“No,” Shikaku agrees, “these children clearly serve some sort of agenda. But what could it be? There’s no ransom, no leads, and no corpses as far as I know. Where do all these children simply disappear?”

“And how long until one from our clans is taken form right under our noses?” Chouza poses.

The trio exchange troubled glances.

Shisui stares at the man before him, an inexplicable nervousness within him that tells him not to take his eyes off him even though he presents as a simple and well-meaning old man.

There’s no use in him acting—Shisui already knows who Shimura Danzou is. There is no Uchiha child who doesn’t. They are all warned about the man’s personal military faction and his greed for capable shinobi. While it seemingly does not matter, the Uchiha know they cannot risk supporting any political agenda in the village that is not the Hokage’s. Their standing is tenuous enough as it is.

Outwardly, Danzou is as loyal as they come. Shisui is clever enough to realise that there are far more nuances to the man’s supposed loyalty than those visible on the surface. And even if Danzou was loyal to the Hokage, it was to the Sandaime. His relationship with the Yondaime is rocky at best and that isn’t something that is kept secret so easily.

But Shisui cannot show any of this on his face or in his body language. Danzou has approached him with this particular façade because he is clearly expecting Shisui to be like any other naïve child looking to make a name as a loyal shinobi. It would be in Shisui’s best interest to let him continue believing that.

Being underestimated is as good a card as any to hide up his sleeve.

So, Shisui widens his eyes ever so slightly and slows his blinking, making himself appear just a little bit smaller. “Did you need some help, Elder?”

He doesn’t use his name. Danzou hasn’t introduced himself yet and Shisui could probably get away with playing dumb. Let the man think he has all the advantage here.

Danzou’s smile is sickly sweet. “You are Uchiha Shisui-kun, yes?” he asks kindly. “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you! You must be quite the talented young man to be so famous already. How old are you, child?”

Shisui lets himself preen visibly, bouncing on the tips of his toes in a way no self-respecting shinobi would. “I’m nine now, sir,” he informs dutifully. “Can I ask for your name?”

“I am Shimura Danzou.”

Gasping, Shisui widens his eyes even more. “You’re one of the Hokage’s advisors! I’m very sorry for not recognising you, sir.” He bows for the added affect, knowing just how to make himself seem young and endearing. This is how he scams the grannies in the market into giving him freebies after all.

“Indeed, I am,” Danzou confirms, reaching out to pat the Uchiha’s head. Shisui holds himself very still, and does not cringe away even though he wants to. “Now, boy, I must admit that I was looking for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes.” Danzou nods. “Have you heard of ROOT, Shisui-kun?”

“It’s a division of the ANBU under your command, sir,” Shisui answers. “ROOT carries out covert duties focused only on the village’s betterment.”

It’s a textbook answer. Every Academy child receives the same spiel when they learn about the different shinobi jobs they can take up after graduating to genin.

Danzou obviously recognises the recitation judging by the twitch in his face. Shisui is perhaps more entertained by the reaction than he should be. “Very good,” the elder compliments. “Then, do you know that I am always searching for talented young shinobi such as yourself to recruit to my forces?”

The man sure has some audacity to be attempting to recruit an Uchiha out in public like this. If someone figures out what is happening here, there’s bound to be all sorts of speculations and unpleasant rumours for the clan.

Shisui forces himself not to frown. “I wasn’t aware you recruit personally.”

“Not always,” Danzou says. “I make exceptions for those who prove themselves—well—exceptional. And you certainly have the qualities I look for when searching for potential ROOT agents, Shisui-kun. It takes a lot of talent, ambition, and drive to be selected to be part of those who follow me, but I believe that you have all of those characteristics, boy.”

He isn’t wrong about Shisui having all those traits. Unfortunately for him, however, Shisui also has an abnormally well-honed radar for bullshit.

He peers up at the man and casts a quick glance at his surroundings. This is a route between the park and the Uchiha compound that not many people take, but it is emptier today than usual. He purses his lips. This is pre-arranged then.

Things aren’t looking too good for him. He needs to stall until he can think of a suitable excuse to make an escape.

“I’m really flattered, sir,” he says, only paying half a mind to what his coming out of his mouth while he scans around for any opening he can take to get out of here. Man, he’d give away his firstborn child for a rescue right about now. “It’s so gratifying to know an important man like yourself has taken note of me. Truly, I am honoured.”

Laying it on a bit thick, but whatever.

If Danzou can sense his bullshit, the man doesn’t let it show. “It is my honour, Shisui-kun, to meet the future of Konohagakure’s shinobi forces in talented young shinobi like yourself. I’m sure you will do many great things. I only hope I can help you steer in the…right direction.”

Shisui’s gaze snaps back to the elder in interest. That sure was purposeful language. “The right direction, Councilman Shimura?”

“I hope you will choose your duty over other commitments, Shisui-kun,” the man says plainly. Shisui blinks, a little startled. “Your clan is famous for producing excellent shinobi, but too many of them go on to discard their talents and their oaths as shinobi of Konohagakure to pursue frivolous distractions.”

Since when is the village’s Police Force a frivolous distraction? Dumbfounded, Shisui can only stare.

“You are still young, but it will be time soon enough for you to make the choice, yes?” Danzou’s eye pierces into him, obviously referring to when Shisui’s mandatory service will be concluded in three years. “Choose wisely, Shisui-kun.” He pretends to hesitate before adding, “And, of course, remember that my offer will always be open to you. I truly would be pleased to shape potential like yours.”

Shisui has to try very hard not to shrink as he looks away, unable to hold eye contact. The hairs at the back of his neck have risen in response to the chill that races down his spine. He needs to leave. Now.

And as though Amaterasu herself is watching out for him, a voice in the near distance calls, “Shisui-kun! There you are!”

Shisui thinks he could cry from the overwhelming relief that hits him. He spins around to see who his saviour is so he knows who he owes his firstborn to, and blinks when the Yondaime’s brother comes into view, strolling down the path and waving as though he and Shisui are the closest of friends.

Well, they sure as hell are now. Shisui waves back hard enough that he feels like his arm is going to fly right out of its socket. “Raijin-san!”

“Shisui-kun!”

“Raijin-san!”

“Shi—”

Danzou interrupts their beautifully heartfelt reunion with a dry, “So, the both of you are familiar with each other.”

Raijin is close enough to ruffle Shisui’s hair as he comes to stand beside him, casually letting his hand rest on the boy’s shoulder. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here, Councilman Shimura. It’s nice to see you again,” Raijin greets, shooting the elder a friendly smile as though nothing is amiss.

Nodding, Danzou lets his face soften. “You as well, Raijin-kun. I trust you are keeping well?”

“Always, sir.” Raijin grins brilliantly. “I was hoping to run into Shisui-kun. Itachi would like it if he could join us for dinner. They’re best friends, you know.” He says this like it’s an adorable little conspiracy.

Shisui visibly perks up, playing his part. “Oh, can I, Raijin-san? You make the best ramen!”

He doesn’t really know if that’s true but it feels like the right thing to say for some reason, so he goes with it. Better to do what he can to sell their supposed ‘closeness’ so they can’t be accused of lying to or offending a village elder.

Raijin pats his back. “Of course, kiddo. You’re always welcome over.”

He might just be saying that to play his part but he’s an idiot if he thinks Shisui won’t take this literally to take full advantage of having more access to his favourite cousin.

“Well then, I won’t keep you any longer,” Danzou says, dipping his head as if to acknowledge their win for now. “Shisui-kun and I were done with our conversation anyways.” He sends the boy a meaningful glance. “I look forward to our next discussion, Shisui-kun.”

Shisui bows and says nothing, keeping a perfect smile plastered on his face until the Councilman has turned around and disappeared down the bend. Raijin’s hand remains on his shoulder for several heartbeats until they are both sure they’re in the clear.

“Raijin-san, I promise you my firstborn for that amazing rescue,” he declares seriously, turning to the blond.

Startled, Raijin lets out an uncomfortable laugh. “Uhm, I’m okay, thanks.” He looks Shisui over. “And you, kiddo? Doing alright?”

“Thanks to you, yeah.” Shisui nods. “You must have been sent down as a blessing from Amaterasu herself.”

Eyebrows rising, Raijin shakes his head. “You’re very sweet, but this was just a happy coincidence, I’m afraid.” Lowering his voice conspiratorially, he adds, “I just have an awesome knack for timing.”

“You’ve been blessed,” Shisui corrects him. Pausing, he reconsiders, and muses, “Or I’ve been blessed through you? Whatever. I’m glad either way. I owe you one for that.”

Raijin snorts and ruffles his hair again, sending the curls into a state of disarray that has Shisui giggling. “You can make it up to me by joining Itachi-kun and I for that dinner.”

Grinning, Shisui says, “Really? You’re the best, Raijin-san!”

“Sure am!” Raijin laughs, the sound coming from his chest. He quietens as something thoughtful comes over his countenance. “Hey, how’d you know I made ramen?”

Shisui gapes. “For real? I totally made that up. I can’t believe I was right!”

“Seriously?” There’s a look of wonder on Raijin’s face as he leads the way down the path, back in the direction he just came from, opposite to where Danzou headed. “Man, the world sure works in mysterious ways.”

“Maybe I really am blessed.”

“Sure thing, dude.”

In Kakashi’s dreams, he is older.

The watercolour landscapes and non-linear passage of time confuse him into forgetting most of what he dreams the moment he wakes, but he does know that, in his dreams, he is older.

He doesn’t really see Rin, Obito or Minato in these visions, or if he does see them, then he certainly doesn’t remember. His ninken are there though, and they’re older too. As are Gai, Kurenai and Asuma.

And there are faces he doesn’t recognise. The details tend to get warped in his memory, but he remembers fondly exasperated calls of “Kakashi-sensei!”, bright laughter, and the bickering of kids. He remembers a pink-haired kunoichi and a boy he knows on sight is an Uchiha. He remembers a troublemaker with hair like sunshine and whiskers on his face.

He always wakes up disoriented and confused, filled with the ache of longing for these people he does not recognise.

And that doesn’t make sense in and of itself. Kakashi knows that humans cannot dream of faces they don’t recognise. He must have seen these kids somewhere.

Or maybe he’s just losing his mind. That could, quite possibly, be it. Maybe he has finally fried all his brain cells after one too many mishaps with lightning jutsu. Rin always did warn him it would happen one day. This is what he gets for ignoring his doctor’s advice.

He’s groggy from a particularly vivid dream today, stumbling to the shops so he can splurge on coffee beans now that Konoha is importing again. Minato agreed to meet him for a training session in one of the fields later today and Kakashi refuses to go in looking like the undead. His sensei’s time is more precious now than it ever has been, and he refuses to waste any of it.

When he catches sight of a head of familiar blond hair, for a moment he thinks that it is Minato. Except it can’t be because Minato is almost certainly in the Hokage office at this time, which means that it is likely Raijin.

Only when Raijin turns around and meets his eye, the first thing in Kakashi’s mind isn’t anything to do with his sensei’s brother at all.

Instead, unbidden, he thinks ‘Naruto.’

The smile on Raijin’s face fractures, his eyes going wide and face losing its colour. He looks like he has seen a ghost. “You—what did you just say?”

Kakashi blinks. “Did I say that out loud?”

“You just said ‘Naruto’, right?” Raijin asks, something urgent and manic in his eyes as he crosses over to Kakashi and takes him by the shoulder.

Kakashi frowns. “Yes,” he confirms slowly. “Just something from my dream, I think. Does it...mean something to you?”

Raijin lets him go like he’s on fire, stepping away as though in a daze. “No,” he says, voice small. “No. I thought—” He shakes his head and tries for a smile once more. It comes out weak and faltering, looking wrong on a face that Kakashi is used to seeing as so full of joy and mischief. “It’s nothing. I must have misheard. Sorry about that, Kashi-kun.”

Kakashi eyes him suspiciously but nods eventually when no other explanation is forthcoming, and Raijin’s smile just becomes surer and more natural on his face. “Sure, whatever. You acting weird shouldn’t be anything new by now, I guess.”

At this, Raijin squawks and flaps his hands in indignation. “You should seriously respect your elders, Kakashi-kun!”

“I’ll respect my elders when they earn it,” Kakashi fires back, sniffing. “Besides, don’t act like you’re some paragon of politeness. I’ve heard all about the trouble you went about causing before you came to Konoha. Is courtesy even a word in your vocabulary?”

Raijin scowls. “Can a brat like you even spell ‘courtesy’?”

Kakashi scowls right back and crosses his arms. “Can you?”

The blond gasps in offense so hard that he accidentally inhales his own spit and starts choking. Smugly, Kakashi counts that as yet another victory and strolls away to pay for his coffee, now in a much better mood than when he woke up.

It is only later that he realises that Raijin looks an awful lot like the whisker-cheeked boy from his dreams.

“Kushina and I were thinking about baby names,” Minato comments when they’re both collecting all the kunai and shuriken that were thrown around during their spar. “It’s not a sure thing yet, but we’re seriously considering the main character from one of Jiraiya’s books.”

Kakashi pauses, turning to peer at his sensei. “Jiraiya-san’s books?” The very much not child-friendly, adult literature books? He might not know much about parenting but something about the choice strikes Kakashi as very wrong.

Minato snorts like he can clearly read these thoughts on his face. “His first ever release. It didn’t do well, but I’ve always rather enjoyed it. It’s an adventure novel. You might like it.”

Humming, Kakashi decides he’s better of just accepting this at face value and not prying. “What’s the name?”

His sensei grins and proudly says, “Naruto.”

Kakashi freezes. “Like narutomaki? The fishcake?” he blurts out because his brain has decided to abandon him entirely.

Minato chuckles and shakes his head. “We were thinking more like a maelstrom,” he explains dryly. “Uzumaki tend to name their children after storms and such anyway, so Kushina gets to carry that forward. And both Raijin and I have weather-based names too, so we thought it’d be the best of both worlds for us to continue that theme too. Besides, it’s a nice strong name based on a strong character written by a strong shinobi. That ought to be pretty auspicious, right?”

It's not like Kakashi really knows, but he nods anyways. “Sure, I guess. What if you have a girl?”

Blinking, Minato tilts his head. "Is it not a gender neutral name? Aren't storms genderless? Should we think up another name for our daughter?"

Kakashi...doesn't know that either. He shrugs. "Namikaze Naruto?"

“Or Uzumaki Naruto. We haven’t decided yet.”

The name rings in Kakashi’s head like a shrine bell, rooting him to his spot. His instincts are screaming at him, demanding he take notice, but of what? It doesn’t make sense for him to react like this. Once again, unprompted, he thinks of the blond troublemaker from his dreams.

Kakashi’s eyes narrow. He’s starting to think that there’s more to what he has been seeing than simple dreams, and he has a feeling that Raijin knows it too.

Something strange is going on, and Kakashi is going to find out what.

Chapter Text

Kakashi’s first instinct is to hunt Raijin down and demand answers from the man. This undertaking quickly proves to be close to impossible, however, because Kakashi underestimates the lengths to which Raijin is willing to go to avoid him.

The man shamelessly uses shadow clones to throw Kakashi off his trail and scent, his apartment sports brand new barrier seals designed specifically to ward against Kakashi’s chakra signature, and he just happens to decide to start Itachi on stealth training to have an excuse to hide from anyone he doesn’t want to see.

Within only a week, Kakashi’s patience is frayed to threads and his blood pressure is through the roof.

He has a serious bone to pick with whoever Raijin learned his evasion tactics from.

Disgruntled and running low on options, Kakashi turns his sights to other avenues for answers. Namely: his summons.

Most people don’t seem to realise this, but Summons are far more…mystical than shinobi give them credit for. The theory is that all Summons are descended from yokai, and Kakashi knows for sure that most of them maintain some sort of relationship with the spirit world even if they don’t advertise this fact.

The toad contract, for example, is famously a more mystical summoning contract thanks to The Great Toad Sage’s eminent gift for divination. The Uchiha ninneko are thought to be relatives of bakaneko. Hatake wolves were believed to be descendants of okuri-inu.

Kakashi’s ninken are still too young to have enough sway or favours in the Summons’ Domain, but they also aren’t his only contract.

He didn’t think he would ever find use for this contract ever again. In fact, he’d been determined to avoid ever searching for it since the last time he saw it when moving out of the Hatake compound. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Unrolling the scroll, Kakashi pauses, pursing his lips at the signature above his own. Hatake Sakumo stares back at him like some sort of ghost—an echo lingering long after the life of the owner has left. The wolf contract is traditional to his clan; Kakashi might be the only Hatake to ever depend primarily on other Summons. He is contracted, of course, because it might as well be customary, but he hasn’t seen his father’s Summons since—

Well, it has been quite some time.

He sits back against his haunches, worrying at his lip. Rationally, he knows that the wolves are as much his as they were every other contractor’s. They will answer and they will help like they have always done for his family as far back as anyone can remember.

Still, he cannot help but think of the wolves as he remembers them—by his father’s side.

“Someday, they will fight by your side too, Kakashi,” his father had said to him a lifetime ago, large hands warm against Kakashi’s little ones, guiding him through signing his name on the scroll. “They are part of the legacy you will inherit as my heir after all.”

So much for that.

Part of him wants to stuff the contract back into the bottom of the little box he keeps it in and toss it under the floorboard of his kitchen again. He’ll just find some other way to harass Raijin into giving him answers. Maybe he’ll recruit Obito and Rin to the endeavour since they seem to have become experts in this sort of thing.

But while Raijin might know what his dreams are about, he probably wouldn’t know why Kakashi is suddenly seeing things. And if it turns out that Kakashi is in fact simply losing his mind and hallucinating, he’d prefer no other human finds out until he can check himself into some expensive institution on a remote island to spend the rest of his life in.

He doesn’t even need to sort out his will anymore since Obito would just inherit everything by default thanks to their marriage. How convenient.

There’s no way for him to know the truth about what is happening to him with these dreams other than to ask someone who has known generations of his clansmen.

Taking a deep breath, Kakashi bites his thumb and slams his palm to the ground.

From the resulting puff of smoke, a pair of golden eyes stare out at him. The smoke dissipates and Kakashi is left to sit alone on his kitchen floor with a six-feet tall wolf. The pure white fur and red markings around the eyes immediately clue him into his Summon’s identity—the matriarch of the wolf summons, the mother of his father’s favoured summons, and one of Sakumo’ oldest friends and confidants.

Kakashi pushes himself onto his knees and lowers into a bow. “I’m honoured that you answered my call, Masumi-sama.”

The wolf regards him, inclining her head. “It has been quite some time since we received a summon from someone of your line,” she notes. “I wished to see for myself what you required after convincing us that you had forgotten us.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Kakashi lowers his head even further. “I apologise for my negligence. It was never my intention to offend you or your clan.”

“No,” she agrees, “only your father.”

Kakashi remains quiet, stomach dropping.

Masumi snorts. “Lift your head, cub,” she instructs, leaning down to nose at his hair. “You have not called me here to battle. There is something else you wish for—what is it?”

He swallows, tentatively raising his head to meet her inquisitive gaze. He folds his hands together. “I thought you might have some answers for me.”

The weight of her attention becomes more potent. “That depends on what you wish to know.”

Inhaling sharply, he nods. He knows this. Some answers must come at a cost—they mean too much to be bestowed so simply. He won’t know if this will be one of them until he asks. “I’ve been having these…dreams lately,” he starts hesitantly. “They feel too real, too immersive to be just regular dreams. I don’t know how to explain it; I swear I’m not going insane, it’s just—”

“Cub,” she interrupts, gentle but firm. “You need not explain yourself for me to believe you. Tell me what you saw.”

He twists his fingers together. “I see myself, but older. I see my friends as adults. I see Konoha but it looks a little different. Sometimes it’s regular stuff—missions and training, stuff like that. Sometimes—” He falters. “Sometimes, I see a war.”

Masumi tilts her head. “Go on,” she prompts.

“I see these kids really often too. They call me sensei. One of them looks an awful lot like a younger version of Minato-sensei’s brother. The boy’s name is Naruto and then Minato-sensei told me that he wants to name his kid Naruto.” Taking a deep breath, Kakashi quietly admits, “I think I’m dreaming of the future.”

Rumbling thoughtfully, Masumi lowers herself so she is laying down on her front. They are almost at an eye-level like this. “Your bloodline has shown no talent for divination before,” she muses aloud. “Hatake seers typically only receive visions by making deals with other yokai that can use foresight, often using us as their middlemen to bargain on their behalf.”

“So, I am going insane,” Kakashi infers, resigned.

Masumi huffs, nosing at him again. “I would not jump to conclusions so quickly, young one,” she scolds, nipping at his hitai-ate lightly. “I will need to ask around some more to know for sure, but…” she trails off.

“You know something.” Kakashi frowns.

“Perhaps,” Masumi offers. “There have been some disturbances in the spirit world and the Summons’ Domain as of late. What do you know of how your world relates to ours?”

“Very little,” Kakashi admits. “I know they are only loosely tethered to ours. The passage of time is different, for one, and things that affect us only barely reach you.”

“Correct,” Masumi says approvingly. “It’d be more accurate to say that our realms lie on top of each other and overlap every so often rather than to imagine that they are connected. And yet, the ripples of your world have managed to find their way into ours. Something has occurred here that has thrown even the spirit world into disarray.”

Kakashi’s eye widens. “Does that have something to do with my visions?”

Masumi inclines her head in acknowledgment. “It is possible,” she admits. “Your kin are more sensitive to the natural order than most other humans. There is yokai ancestry in your clan—the effects of something like that are longstanding.”

Yokai ancestry. That is… not something Kakashi could ever anticipate. This might just be a hallucination after all. Reality can’t be this strange, can it?

“Then is it not possible that I’m seeing the future,” he tries to reason. “Yokai can do that, right?”

“Your power would not be so concentrated since the blood is too dilute after generations. Besides, okami are messengers. They do not foresee; they only relay.” She makes a noise of consideration deep in her throat. “No, I think you might be seeing things as they were supposed to be before your world’s fate shifted.”

Kakashi blinks hard. “My world’s fate did what?”

Masumi blinks back. “Shifted,” she supplies simply. “That is what has caused the ripples in our world too. Several prophecies are either fulfilled too early or rendered null, and the vision of the future remained cloudy and unsure until very recently. There is an irregularity here that was not supposed to exist but has affected the world enough that it cannot exist any other way now. These visions—they might be your bloodline’s inherent spiritual instincts trying to warn you of the change. Have you not noticed their activity any other time?”

There is something screaming at the back of his head, but it is muted, as if coming from underwater. Kakashi has to remind himself to breathe. “I have,” he admits softly. “They’ve been turning up more often this past year, but I assumed that was an age thing or something else. I didn’t—”

“It’s alright, cub,” Masumi says softly, snapping him into focus. “What is calling to your instincts?”

“Not what. Who,” he corrects dully. “A person. My sensei’s brother—Raijin-san. My instincts kept calling to him and I’ve never understood why. I don’t know him—I didn’t know him, but it felt like I did. Like I could trust him somehow.”

“How curious,” Masumi murmurs. She closes her eyes contemplatively before nodding to herself. There is resolve in her gaze when her eyes open. “Very well. I will ask around about this Raijin-san of yours and see what I can find about why your blood believes you are bound to him.”

“Bound to him,” Kakashi repeats, alarmed. This isn’t going to turn out to be like the sharingan affair all over again, is it? “Who are you going to ask?”

“The toads might know something,” she answers. “Or, perhaps, the kitsune. There were rumours that a kudan was born not too long ago as well. I might send someone in search of it.”

This has all very quickly left Kakashi’s wheelhouse of safe and sane. How the hell is he supposed to deal with yokai? “I don’t even know what a kudan is,” he mutters, passing a hand over his face.

“A yokai with the body of a calf and the head of a human child,” Masumi informs dutifully. It is perhaps not as helpful as she thinks it is. “They are exceedingly rare and difficult to find because of their incredibly short lifespans. Their power of foresight, however, is unparalleled. The birth of one now is very telling.”

“Why is it telling?” Kakashi asks suspiciously.

“The birth of a kudan is always an omen of something great, Kakashi-kun,” she tells him. “It means that your world has been changed irreversibly.”

He ventures, “For the better?”

Masumi rises to her full height. “Only time will tell, young one.”

“Shisui was asked to join ROOT,” Itachi comments lightly, frowning as he struggles to grab a piece of potato with his chopsticks.

Fugaku stills, exchanging glances with Mikoto as she absently reaches out to help their son. “And what did he say?” Fugaku asks, keeping his tone deceptively conversational.

Furrowing his brow in puzzlement, Itachi tilts his head. “He’s going to refuse,” he says in a tone that implies this is obvious. “He knows we’re supposed to be careful.”

The relief Fugaku feels is just a little bit embarrassing. “Yes,” he breathes, “we are. Good that he remembered.”

“A Councilman approached him personally,” his son continues. “Shisui is trying to figure out how to tell him his decision.”

So that’s why Itachi has breached the subject—he’s looking for advice on behalf of his cousin. Fugaku smiles at his son and drops extra beef in his bowl.

“A formal letter will suffice,” he informs. Then, realising what Itachi just said, Fugaku pauses and backtracks. “He was approached personally?”

Itachi nods. “Yes. Yesterday, near the park.”

Fugaku’s eyes narrow. Shisui wouldn’t be the first Uchiha shinobi to receive an invitation to ROOT, but he’s among the very few to be approached by Danzou himself, and the youngest of the lot by far.

Inhaling sharply, Mikoto shoots him a look. “The Mangekyou,” she says. “Shisui unlocked his recently.”

“Could Danzou have found out?” Fugaku asks, alarmed.

“It would be in his mission report,” she points out. “Hardly any trouble to access.”

“But someone would have to be keeping an eye out for it,” he realises. It would mean that Danzou has been paying undue attention to Shisui for a while now to have this information so quickly. “Itachi-kun, where is your cousin now? I’d like to speak to him.”

Shisui needs to be warned. If Danzou thinks him valuable enough, the man will not hesitate to use whatever tactics he believes necessary in order to get his hands on the boy.

Itachi’s face is twisted with concern as he looks between his parents, fingers clenched around his chopsticks. “He left for a mission today morning,” he says. “With shishou. It’s his first A-rank.”

“An A-rank with Rajin-kun?” Mikoto repeats. She turns to Fugaku, face unreadable.

He looks back, mouth pressed into a thin line. “It’s sudden,” he comments carefully.

Nodding slowly, Itachi says, “They received the assignment last night. Raijin-san told me today morning.”

“Do you know what their assignment is exactly, Itachi-kun?” Mikoto asks.

Itachi twists his hands together in his lap. “What is this about?”

“Please, Itachi,” Fugaku beseeches, leaning forward slightly. “What was the mission?”

“I’m not—” Itachi shakes his head, looking helpless. “I don’t know.”

Mikoto stands so she can round the table and gently pull Itachi into her side, carding her fingers through his hair. “It’s alright, Itachi-kun,” she soothes. “Your father and I are just worried.”

“Is something going to happen to them?” Itachi asks. There are tears gathering in his wide eyes but he’s clearly blinking furiously to try and keep them at bay.

Fugaku softens, leaving his seat so he can crouch on Itachi’s other side and take his son’s hand. “Your cousin and teacher are both incredibly strong and smart shinobi, Itachi,” he says. “Have faith in their capabilities, alright?”

Itachi sniffs and nods, curling his hands into fists. Over his head, Fugaku and Mikoto exchange grim looks.

“I had to exercise my right as Clan Head to access the assignment records, but I did find out,” Fugaku says quietly that evening as he sits behind Mikoto and gently rubs camellia oil into her scalp. “The mission is to Land of Storms.”

Mikoto holds herself carefully still. “They are almost completely war-torn,” she notes. “The whole country is practically run by rebel groups.”

“The Daimyo requested Konoha’s assistance in regaining control,” Fugaku informs. “Namikaze and Shisui are there to meet with him and covertly assess the overall political landscape.”

“It’s dangerous,” Mikoto remarks, shoulders drawn into a tight line, “even by shinobi standards. Shisui-kun has never done anything like this.”

“He’s skilled though,” Fugaku points out.

Mikoto turns to purse her lips at him over her shoulder. “If there was ever a place for someone to sabotage a mission and get away with it, it would be Storm. You know what the Councilman is like, Fugaku.”

Sighing, he nods. “You’re right,” he admits quietly. “Do we know if Raijin was ever recruited like Shisui?”

Her eyes widen. “You think…?”

“Two birds, one stone. I can’t think of any other reason for those two in particular to receive an abrupt high-ranking assignment like this,” Fugaku states grimly. “It would be too risky to directly ask the Hokage if his only brother could possibly be a target of one of his Advisors. There is not enough trust between us yet and I don’t want to deal with any possible fallout that would occur from Shimura catching wind of our suspicions. That man will try to brand us as traitors immediately.”

Mikoto’s eyes grow cold. “I can ask Kushina-chan,” she offers. “She will be discrete.”

“And if the answer is ‘yes’?”

“Then we pray.” Mikoto takes his hand in hers and squeezes. “Amaterasu will watch over them both.”

The Land of Storms is kind of a raging dumpster fire.

Raijin has only ever been here once—with Jiraiya in his future (past? Future-past? Past-future?). It hadn’t exactly been nice back then, but it had been a hell of a lot better than it is right now.

The whole place reeks of fear and anger, for one, and the rancid smell of it is definitely going to give him the mother of all migraines before the day is over. There are military groups posted around every corner, soldiers and rebels alike openly patrolling their ‘territories’ with weapons, clearly looking for an excuse to pick a fight. Civilians mostly try to keep their heads down and get through their day in one piece, scurrying from one boarded up location to the other, nervousness etched into every fibre of their being.  

“This is like the war all over again,” Shisui whispers, tucking himself even further into Raijin’s side.

“It is war to them,” Raijin corrects softly. “This war has simply made it inside their homes. We were lucky it never got to this point for us.”

Pursing his lips, Shisui surveys their surroundings. “We can’t be seen approaching our client’s residence,” he decides. “Things will get way too messy.”

They don’t know which faction’s territory they’re in right now, but if it’s the anti-Daimyo one, then they’re going to end up severely outnumbered and surrounded by civilian homes.

Raijin nods, face set grimly. “We need to set up base.”

“Something tells me these guys don’t really have much of a hospitality industry,” Shisui comments dryly. “We’re going to have to camp in the desert.”

Humming, Raijin looks around. “I have an idea, but we’ll need to get our backstory straight.”

Shisui lifts an eyebrow at him. “Our identification documents say I’m your brother and you’re a travelling artisan from Land of Fields.”

“What kind of artisan? Why are we travelling? Why are you coming along with me?”

Shisui blinks, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “A leatherworker,” he decides. “You’re looking to migrate to Land of Stone because you have an apprenticeship lined up there with an old friend of our father’s. Dad used to be a…potter. Yeah. And he died because of the shinobi wars. That should get us some sympathy.”

Raijin considers the story and nods. “Sure. Our mother died when you were a baby because of some illness, and there’s no one else who can take care of you, so you’re coming with me. What is our last name?”

“Yamada,” Shisui answers promptly, remembering the alias on their fake documents.

“Good job.” Raijin ruffles the boy’s hair, currently dyed a sandy brown for the sake of their cover story. Raijin’s own hair has been darkened to match and his whiskers have been hidden with generous application of makeup. Instead, both he and Shisui are currently sporting freckles and honey-coloured eyes.

They decided against using henge or genjutsu in case there are any pesky sensors around to sell them out. Undercover work needs to be as subtle as possible. If they give anyone a single reason to not overlook them entirely, things could get ugly quick.

For Shisui’s first A-rank and first ever undercover mission, the stakes sure are high. It probably doesn’t help that he’s paired with Raijin who has very little professional experience doing undercover recon of this kind.

This, of course, begs the question of why exactly it is the two of them who are here instead of someone better qualified, but Raijin understands how sometimes better options just aren’t available to Mission Assignment. It’s inconvenient, but it happens often enough. Especially in the aftermath of a war.

“So, what’s the plan now?” Shisui asks, blinking up at him.

Raijin hums and casts another look around. “Find a family friendly public place, look endearingly pathetic, and wait for someone with the tendency to pick up strays.”

Mouth rounding out with realisation, Shisui nods. “Roger that. We should find somewhere to get lunch anyways. You’ll buy, right, nii-chan?” He beams up at Raijin, batting his eyelashes.

Snorting, Raijin hooks an arm around his neck and begins steering him in the direction he saw an old woman with an empty shopping bag go in.

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

Kushina paces across the bedroom floor, biting the nail of her thumb while her brain works furiously.

It has been an hour since Mikoto’s departure from her and Minato’s house. An hour since this horrible pit of anxiety settled in Kushina’s belly, bringing along a nervous energy that she hasn’t been unable to burn off.

She is supposed to be working on a seal to help contain the Kyuubi in case something goes wrong during the pregnancy, but she hasn’t been able to focus. Every time she tries to sit down and work, all she can think about is the warning Mikoto left her with.

Downstairs, she can hear the door being unlocked. Minato must finally be home for dinner.

Relieved that she won’t have to stay alone with her thoughts anymore, Kushina is all but flying down the stairs before her boyfriend has even finished announcing his arrival.

“Minato,” she breathes, hurrying to the genkan, “I think something’s wrong.”

“What?” Minato asks, alarmed, barely managing to kick off his sandals before he’s rushing close to take her in his arms, looking her over for any sign of harm. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she assures, batting his hands away.

Minato is not soothed. “Is the baby okay?”

She softens. “Yes, Minato, the baby is okay too.” Swallowing, she admits, “It’s Raijin.”

Brows furrowing, Minato regards her warily. His shoulders are drawn tight, fingers twitching towards the pack of weapons strapped to his thigh. “What happened to Raijin?”

“It could be nothing,” she warns. “I could be overreacting. You know how my hormones have been lately. But, also, maybe I’m reacting a perfectly adequate amount and—”

“Kushina, please,” Minato interrupts, taking her hands in his. “You’re scaring me. What happened to my brother? Where is he?”

Her stomach drops. “You don’t know where he is?”

The confusion on his face is at war with a growing fear that is so potent, Kushina can all but feel the Kyuubi awaken within her seal to pay attention to what is happening. She wants to tell it to fuck off and leave her alone, especially when her nerves are so frayed, but Minato needs her to be present and succinct.

“Why—” He stops. “Am I supposed to know?” Frowning, he closes his eyes, face taking on a look of concentration as he presumably reaches for Raijin’s location using the seals that connect the brothers. “He isn’t in Konoha,” Minato murmurs. “Not in Fire at all. Near Wind. What is he doing there? Where is he?”

Grim-faced, Kushina informs him, “He’s on a mission with Uchiha Shisui in the Land of Storms. An A-rank.”

“An A-rank,” Minato repeats. “That I don’t know of.”

There are very few people in the village with the necessary clearance to authorise such a high-ranking mission without needing the Hokage’s approval.

Kushina takes a deep breath. She needs to keep a cool head and be brave right now. “Uchiha Shisui was approached by Shimura Danzou to join ROOT recently. Mikoto said he was going to refuse but couldn’t do so because of a sudden emergency mission. It’s his first A-rank. An undercover reconnaissance mission in Land of Storms to aid Konoha’s alliance with their Daimyo.”

Minato stares at her, at a loss for words. “Raijin is in Storms right now, on a mission that Shimura Danzou probably issued, and his only backup is a nine-year-old chuunin with no A-rank experience,” he summarises. It sounds like he can’t even hear what he’s saying.

Kushina winces. “Is there any chance that it’s a genuine mission?” she asks weakly, though she can’t quite bring herself to believe the possibility either.

Inhaling sharply, Minato turns away and runs a hand through his hair, tugging harshly at the roots. “Shit,” he curses. “How did I not find out? I didn’t even notice him leave. I should’ve been paying attention. I should have—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “It’s no use now,” he mutters to himself. “What can I do now?”

“Send backup?” Kushina suggests.

Lips pursed, he shakes his head. “I could end up compromising them instead. Should I send a hawk to tell them the mission has been revoked and order them to come back?”

“Wouldn’t that attract attention to them as well?” There’s a reason protocol for undercover missions is to wait to be contacted by the spy instead of the other around. There are just too many associated risks.

“I could send a toad,” Minato argues. Then, with a noise of frustration, he waves his hand irritably and visibly dismisses the idea. “Danzou might react violently to any blatant disruption if this really is part of one of his plans. He has to be keeping an eye on them while they're there.”

With a sinking feeling, Kushina realises, “I think the only thing we can do is wait.”

Minato looks pained to have the words spoken out loud. “What if something happens?” he whispers. “What if I never see him again?”

After all, Danzou is one of the best strategists Konoha has ever produced. There’s very little he can’t make happen once he puts his mind to it, and if he wants to hurt Raijin, it’d be all too easy for him to do it in a place like Land of Storms. Even more so when considering he is the one to authorise the mission, which means he has the upper hand in terms of controlling the environment and potentially installing countermeasures beforehand. He could have his loyal ROOT agents nearby ready to exert lethal force for all they know.

Their hands are tied for the time being. Rather effectively, Danzou has essentially taken Raijin and Shisui hostage, all while maintaining plausible deniability that won’t allow Minato to easily make a move against him—politically or physically.

Kushina shakes her head. “Stop it,” she scolds, aiming it at both Minato and herself. “Raijin is strong. Even we don’t know everything he’s capable of. He’s going to be fine.”

“But—”

“He’ll be fine,” she repeats sternly. “And if he needs help—well, that’s why you gave him that seal, right?”

Obviously conflicted as he considers this argument, Minato nods after a long moment, inhaling slowly. “You’re right. He’ll call if he needs me, and he’s strong enough to survive just about anything. He’ll be fine.”

“Now, how about that dinner?” Kushina suggests weakly.

Minato tries for a smile that falls flat. There’s something unbearably brittle about the look in his eyes. “Sorry, Kushina. I don’t think I can eat anything right now.”

“Oh, Minato.” She pulls him into her arms, letting him bury his face in her neck as she rocks them gently. He’s shaking ever so slightly. Kushina says nothing and just holds him tighter.

All they can do is wait.

Chapter Text

Shisui and Raijin manage to endear themselves to a kindly old couple that lives on the outskirts of the capital city’s suburbs and makes a living by selling dumplings that Raijin swears must contain some sort of elixir because they have no business being that good. They are nice enough to let the boys stay at their house in exchange for their help with running the stall.

This is a task easily done when considering that both Raijin and Shisui have a natural flair for being entertaining without even trying. They joke around with the customers they’re serving, turn an impressive blind eye to just how many of them secretly belong to rebel factions, and generally discover on the fly that the two of them would make an excellent improv comedy duo should they ever decide that the shinobi thing isn’t working out anymore.

Raijin is half considering the logistics of this even as they leap across the rooftops under the cover of the night towards the Daimyo’s residence. It’d be nice to have an easy and relaxing pastime once he has finished solving Konoha’s biggest problems. He’s sure he can bribe Shisui into it too.

‘I will eat your liver if you become a glorified jester for a living,’ Kurama announces, half-growling out the threat.

Raijin immediately responds with the impression of a pout. ‘We’d make a killing though!’ he argues. ‘Don’t you want to be rich, Kurama?’

Kurama does not. ‘What a pathetically human sentiment.’

‘Well, I wanna be rich, and I bet Shisui-kun does too,’ Raijin snarks back, huffing. ‘This is a business opportunity, you know.’

‘What do you even know about business?’ Kurama scoffs.

‘Hey! I know stuff!’ Raijin protests.

It’s futile though. Kurama has stopped listening in favour of ranting about his evident deep-rooted hatred of professional comedy and, y’know, general happiness. With a sigh, Raijin tunes him out. He can listen to his friend’s detailed critique about the devolution of comics over the generations when he isn’t busy sneaking into the residence of a feudal lord.

The Daimyo’s mansion is located at the heart of Storm’s capital, right in the middle of its strongest nationalist territory. While a large chunk of Storms is overrun by its rebel factions, the capital has managed to hold out for the most part. There are still riots and public acts of violence every now and then, but the centre—where the Daimyo and most of his government officials reside—is still holding out and has yet to be successfully breached.

It's only a matter of time though. The walls are already closing in on the Daimyo which is why he began knocking on Konoha’s doors for aid as soon as they came out of their own war. Personally, Raijin thinks he’d be better off going to Suna since they’re closer and probably more familiar with the semi-arid terrain that Storms shares with Wind, but that’s just his opinion. He’s not too familiar with Storms’ political history after all, though he does know the next Daimyo sort of manages to regain stability eventually.

Needless to say, the manor is under heavy security considering its owner’s contentious position, but mostly so by civilian standards. There are a few shinobi guards stationed around of course, but none as skilled as they perhaps ought to be.

Unsurprising. Storms has no hidden village of its own and most freelance shinobi have also steered clear since the economy isn’t exactly thriving thanks to the civil war. The few shinobi who are local to the country happen to be the ones who incited the rebellion in the first place. Everyone here is mutually out of options.

It makes for a quick break-in if nothing else, though it doesn’t mean anything good at all.

“They’re going to need a whole security upheaval,” Shisui comments, clearly thinking along the same lines. “This is a disgrace.”

“And this is their Daimyo,” Raijin adds. “What are the other nobles and officers doing?”

Shisui makes a face. “We’re supposed to clean up this mess?”

Raijin hums, dropping the deadweight of the guard he just knocked out with a simple nerve strike. “It’s not like we’re obligated to intervene,” he says. “That’s what you and I are here for—to judge whether this is an investment worth making.”

“And is it?”

“What do you think?” he asks, glancing at the boy.

Shisui shoots him an expression of deep judgement as he silently pushes open the door leading to the Daimyo’s personal quarters. Behind them, the row of guards they’ve knocked out remains unconscious. “I think that I’m nine and really underqualified to be passing political verdict.”

Chuckling, Raijin shrugs. “I guess that’s what they assigned me for, huh. The Daimyo’s as good a place as any to start with forming an informed opinion. Shall we, Shisui-kun?”

The Uchiha nods, and together they step towards their sleeping client.

The Daimyo is a nervous man in his fifties who almost passes away as soon as his eyes open to find two strange shinobi standing over him.

He is also—quite obviously—not expecting them; though he is overjoyed to host them once they show him the leaf symbol on their hitai-ate to confirm that they are indeed Konoha shinobi.

The man sits them down for tea and isn’t even upset when they awkwardly admit to decimating most of his security personnel. In fact, he appears to be downright cheered on by the fact, laughing jovially and heaping sweets on fancy little plates for them like a bizarre reward.

“I am happy that I will be in such capable hands!” he declares, laughing.

Shisui shrugs and takes it in stride because he’d never refuse free stuff and children are just resilient to weird shit like that.

Raijin…is less reassured.

It itches at him, the fact that the man who is supposed to be their client seems to have no idea about their mission. If he didn’t ask for them to be here, who did?

Something about this whole ordeal is starting to reek of fishy business and he doesn’t like it one bit.

Raijin manages to hold out until he and Shisui have made it back to their room in the couple’s house before he starts digging through their belongings for the mission scroll.

His young partner watches him, frowning. “Is something wrong?” Shisui asks slowly.

“He didn’t know we’d be here,” Raijin grunts. “The Daimyo, I mean.”

Shrugging, Shisui’s eyes track him carefully. “Maybe they thought it’d be safer to not contact him to keep him safe?” he suggests. “If the rebels find out he’s trying to contract with outside militia, they’ll definitely be provoked into attacking.”

“Maybe,” Raijin allows, though he can’t quite shake the feeling that there’s more to it than that. “The Daimyo said he asked for our help a little over seven months ago.”

“We’d just finished signing the peace treaties back then,” Shisui muses aloud.

Raijin nods. “Exactly!” He unseals the mission scroll from his belongings. “We refused then because we didn’t have enough resources to be aiding anyone but ourselves. Since then, the Daimyo has received no communication from us whatsoever.”

“What’s your point?” Shisui is frowning outright now.

Instead of answering, Raijin unrolls their mission assignment scroll and scans it over. Written on it are their mission objective, fake identities and other details like a map of the capital and blueprints of the Daimyo’s residence. It’s marked urgent, which is why he and Shisui departed as soon as possible.

And at the bottom right corner, where he’d assumed was the Hokage’s stamp, it reads ‘Councilman Shimura’ in the place for mission authoriser.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, looking up at Shisui with wide eyes. “We’re on a fucking ROOT mission.”

“Excuse me.” Shisui is at his side in a flash, putting his famed speed to good use to snatch the scroll out of Raijin’s hands so he can look it over himself. “Oh. Oh no. This isn’t a good thing at all, is it?”

It’s such an innocuous little detail. Who even looks at the fucking Hokage stamp to make sure it’s genuine? All missions handed out by the Mission Assignment office are obviously legitimate. They’d been contacted by hawks for Sage’s sake; of course, they’d assumed this was a mission from the Hokage asking them to leave as soon as possible to go look over the rocky political climate of another country asking for their village’s help.

“I have a sharingan,” Shisui whispers, looking at the offending piece of paper with thinly veiled contempt. “I have a literal sharingan. How did I not notice?”

“Why would you ever expect this?” Raijin poses rhetorically.

Because it wouldn’t be Shisui’s job to see something like this coming. It’d be Raijin’s. Raijin who has a whole personal/cosmic agenda of making sure Danzou doesn’t fuck up any more shit. He knows all the stunts this guy is willing to pull—how did he not see this coming?

Groaning, Raijin brings his hands to his face and bravely does not scream. “Literally fuck my life.”

Shisui shifts uncertainly next to him. “What do we do now?” he asks awkwardly. “Can we ignore a direct mission from Shimura Danzou and just go home?”

“He has the authority to hand out missions as he sees fit. The Sandaime gave it to him and Minato hasn’t been able to revoke it since he’s still dealing with the war-hungry faction in the village,” Raijin points out miserably. “Technically, this is all perfectly legal.”

“So, if we go back without completing the mission, the only reason we’d be able to provide is, ‘We didn’t want to’,” Shisui concludes grimly.

Raijin puts his hands down and exhales slowly. “It’s that or making a serious allegation against a well-respected village elder with literally no evidence.”

Raising his chin stubbornly, Shisui states, “He’s a whole creep. Isn’t that reason enough?”

“Afraid not, kiddo.” Raijin smiles wryly and ruffles Shisui’s hair. “He’s also one of the Niidaime’s students, a famous tactician, and a decorated veteran. I'm also pretty sure he was friends with your grandfather.”

“I've heard that too. Apparently they were friends before Kagami-jii-chan died," Shisui says, making a face. "You're the Hokage's brother, though. Can't you do something?"

“That would just make the political nightmare even worse.”

Shisui huffs and closes his eyes. His voice doesn’t shake when he says, “I didn’t ask for this.”

Raijin reaches for the boy’s chakra and curls his own around it anyways, radiating understanding and comfort as best as he can. “I know, Shisui.”

Echoing the chakra impressions back, Shisui opens his eyes. Determination etches its way onto his face as it had back when they’d been on the battlefield. “Okay. No way out but through, right?” He nods to himself. “What next?”

“We complete our mission,” Raijin sets his jaw, “and then, we go home.”

It’s a shot in the dark.

Fugaku knows, and yet he can’t help but clutch onto the thought with both hands, chasing it to some sort of conclusion. It’s the reason he almost busts down the door to the Inuzuka main family’s home.

An aggravated Tsume throws the door open, snarling wordlessly in his face and snapping her teeth in warning. Fugaku cringes, immediately cowed. He maybe should have thought twice about testing the patience of a very pregnant Inuzuka clan head. Tsume’s fuse has been even shorter than usual and that’s even without having intruders in territory she views as hers when she’s in full blown protective mode thanks to the vulnerability her pregnancy poses to her and her child.

He takes a clear step out of her space and throws his hands up, lowering his gaze in submission. It rankles on his pride more than he’d care to admit, but not only is he in the wrong here, he also needs to smooth things over as soon as possible so he can get the answers he came here for in the first place.

There is a weighted pause that hangs in the air for a moment. Fugaku lowers his head further, allowing the back of his neck to show. It is only then that Tsume calms down, heaving a deep breath and taking a step back.

“You better have a damn good reason for barging in here like this, Uchiha,” she grunts, spinning on her heel and stalking back into the house, leaving the door open behind her in a wordless invitation.

The Inuzuka have hardly ever been ones for formality. Fugaku dislikes the overt familiarity and lack of guidlines, but this is culture to them, so he has never voiced his discomfort before. Dutifully, he enters and takes his sandals off, gently easing the door shut behind him.

“My apologies, Tsume-dono,” he offers sincerely.

“Whatever,” Tsume mumbles, waving him over to the large dining table that lies between the living room and open kitchen. The table legs have been gnawed on, he notes dryly. “Drop the formality and cut to the chase. You know better than to pull this shit unless it’s important, so let’s hear it already.”

His shoulders tense at the course language but he keeps his mouth shut about it. Fugaku has had enough of testing his luck with pregnant women for the month; he is capable of learning his lessons, thank you very much.

“That child you told me about; the one who’s missing,” he begins hesitantly.

Tsume’s disgruntled stare sharpens to something borderline predatory. “Naomi?”

Fugaku nods. “Yes, her. I was wondering if it was at all possible that—” he pauses, steeling himself “—she was approached by ROOT before her disappearance?”

Rather uncharacteristically for how loud a personality she is, Tsume’s face is entirely unreadable. In fact, she holds herself so impossibly still, Fugaku is tempted to activate his sharingan just to check if she’s even breathing.

“Why do you ask?” she says finally, voice measured. Her gaze never falters from his face.

Fugaku purses his lips. “I’m not sure,” he admits. “Not all of the orphans were approached. The records are sparse and testimonies murky, so I can’t be certain, but I know quite a few of those children showed potential as shinobi or had lineages that would lend themselves to a natural aptitude.” Quietly, he adds, “Inuzuka Naomi seemed to fit the bill.”

“ROOT is a legitimate and respected institution,” Tsume comments levelly. Her knuckles are white where she is gripping the back of a chair. “Shimura Danzou is an honourable elder.” Pointedly, she adds, “And a powerful enemy.”

Doesn’t Fugaku know it. He scoffs a little and looks away. The problem with the Police Force becoming involved in crimes that involve clans—whether as perpetrators or victims—is that everything becomes political. None of the clans have exactly been forthcoming with information or assistance and his job has just been harder than it needs to be.

Even now, though it involves a missing child of her own pack, Tsume wants a vote of trust or leverage from him so she can speak somewhat freely without having to worry about him turning around and betraying her for his own gain.

Sighing, he admits, “One of my clan’s children—Uchiha Shisui—recently unlocked the final form of his sharingan. Within days, he was approached by Shimura-dono. The meeting was interrupted by Namikaze Raijin who himself has received and refused a personal invitation from Shimura-dono before. Shisui-kun was going to reject the offer as well.” His fingers curl. “Both of them have been deployed on a mission to the Land of Storms authorised by Shimura Danzou.”

“A coincidence, I’m sure.” Tsume’s voice is dry enough that even cacti would wilt.

Fugaku smiles wryly. “I’m not so certain, Tsume-dono. I do not believe this was a mistake. It is as you said—Shimura Danzou is a powerful enemy to make. He is a man who is used to getting what he wants by whatever means necessary.” Meeting her eyes meaningfully, Fugaku says, “Even if that involves taking it by force.”

Exhaling slowly, Tsume’s eyes close. “One of those unfeeling soldiers of his came by the compound, asking to see her. Apparently, they’d heard about how well she was doing at the Academy.”

“She was being considered for early graduation, correct?”

“Yup.” Tsume’s eyes open, hard as flint. “I refused to let them in. They don’t smell right to me; pisses off everyone here and drives the dogs crazy. Told them to fuck right off and leave her alone. Naomi was gone the next week.”

Something in Fugaku aches. “Why didn’t you say something?” he asks, though he thinks he can already hazard a guess.

Tsume shrugs. “Can’t point fingers without any proof and paint a target on the pack’s backs.” She doesn’t flinch away from his gaze when she adds, “Not after seeing what he has been trying to do to you. The Inuzuka don’t have even half the clout you do. No founding clan standing or fancy exceptional career status for my lot. We couldn’t even trace Naomi-chan’s scent to anywhere useful. I couldn’t say a fucking word.”

For a moment, he doesn’t even know what to say. It has been a while since anyone has been so candid with him, and never before has someone from another clan ever openly referred to Danzou’s exclusionism as a targeted attack on the Uchiha before.

Part of him wants to be angry that the other clans might have seen this happening just as Tsume has, and yet, none of them have bothered to do or say anything. But then he thinks about what has just been laid out in front of him so frankly.

Tsume isn’t wrong. The Uchiha have additional influence by virtue of being a founding clan, and even so, they have been unable to defend against their plummeting status. It’d be much easier to go after a less popular clan. Especially since the rest of them do have to rely on missions for income; missions that Danzou can so easily manipulate if he ever decides to…teach someone a particular lesson.

How one man has managed to make all the council clans bend under his thumb is…beyond Fugaku. It is something that merits more deliberation if nothing else.

For now, however, he ducks his head and rises to his feet. “Thank you for your cooperation, Tsume-dono. Once again, I apologise for disturbing your rest. I will take my leave now.”

Tsume says nothing, following him to the genkan and watching dispassionately as he pulls his sandals back on. Finally, she asks, “Think you’ll find her?”

Fugaku pauses and thinks about it. He doesn’t know. But he straightens nonetheless and meets Tsume’s gaze solemnly before promising,

“I will do my best.”

Shisui decides that reconnaissance is kind of boring.

Or, well, maybe it isn’t really, and his conclusion is limited to this particular experience since he doubts other infiltration specialists have the bizarre skillset that Namikaze Raijin does. The fox summons and crazy number of clones seem like a niche thing to have control over after all.

At this point, Shisui is pretty much just an accessory, contributing about as much as the textbook that Raijin is currently occupying himself with while they wait for his network to finish establishing itself before they start receiving information.

“Are you sure I can’t go out and help somehow?” he tries again, though he knows it’s a futile attempt even before Raijin is smiling apologetically at him.

“Sorry, Shisui-kun,” the man says. At least he sounds like he means it, even if it’s very little consolation to Shisui right now. “I’d rather we stick together for now.”

Shisui huffs and crosses his arms, turning to stare out the window of their room. He liked the room they had in the capital at that couple’s house. Raijin thought it’d be better to relocate to an inn in one of the cities closer to Fire, but there isn’t much to look at out here. “I can take care of myself.” He can do much more than that too.

“I know,” Raijin acknowledges immediately. “I’m also pretty sure that Danzou expected us to figure out who this mission is from and choose to complete it anyways.”

Shisui frowns. “So?” And then it clicks. “We’re not alone.”

Raijin smiles humourlessly. “No, I don’t think we are.” He shakes his head. “This is all supposed to lead to something; I just don’t know what yet. So, until we know just what Danzou’s plans are regarding us, I’d rather you and I just stay in here together.”

They’re probably being watched even now if that’s the case. And no one knows how to go undetected better than a ROOT agent.

But they’re already in the trap, for all that they seemingly haven’t sprung it yet. Shisui wonders how long they’ll be able to hold out like this. They’ll have to leave eventually. Hiding is only prolonging the inevitable.

With a sinking feeling, Shisui thinks that it won’t be long now.

Raijin has never been much of a sensor since he finds it difficult to keep his chakra moulded for sensing for that long, but he has always been good at being able to find ANBU and ROOT shinobi. Ironically enough, the extreme control they exercise over their emotions that supposedly makes them so good at their jobs is what tips him off because they always stand out as suspiciously still in all the other emotional torrent that Raijin’s senses are always sifting through thanks to Kurama’s presence making him a weird emotional conductor.

ROOT are even easier to sense if only because the voids they produce on his radar always set him on high alert for their presence—or rather conspicuous absence.

His clones manage to detect five of them surrounding his and Shisui’s location. An admittedly generous number. Danzou seems to not want to take any risks regarding them. Raijin is almost flattered to be considered such a threat by the elder.

“How long do you think we can keep this up?” Shisui asks quietly. He hasn’t left his perch by the windowsill since Raijin laid out his plan of establishing a temporary information network using his foxes and clones as he did before joining Konoha.

The boy looks worried, large eyes wary. Raijin wishes he could do something to help make him feel better, but he suspects it will be useless until they make it back home. Shisui seems to be the type who needs to do things and be useful to feel in control, and that is strictly the one thing Raijin is keeping him from.

Unfortunately, Shisui is going to have to put up with the restlessness for a while yet.

“I should have a sufficient report on the workings of this country in two days,” Raijin answers honestly.

Shisui stares at him blankly. “We’re going to stay like this for two days?”

Raijin shrugs, biting the inside of his cheek as he thinks, feeling guilty for essentially keeping his mission partner under house arrest. What if Shisui snaps and tries to stab him in his sleep? It’s what Sasuke would have done, and it seems like the kind of thing that could be genetic.

It wouldn’t kill Raijin, but it’d be pretty inconvenient. He hates getting stabbed.

“I have another idea,” he admits, “though it’s kind of risky.”

Shisui perks up, eyes brightening as he leans forward. Man, he’s such an adorable brat; Raijin kind of wants to give him a treat and keep him in his pocket.

“What were you thinking?”

Sighing, he debates telling Shisui at all because he knows even now what the boy will choose since he clearly hates the safe and smart plan of staying inside. Let it be known to all that Raijin tried to do the rational thing for once.

“We leave my network to finish scoping the place out and start heading home now instead.”

Blinking, Shisui looks surprised. “The agents spying on us might think we’re giving up and heading home,” he points out. “Won’t that prompt them into acting to keep us from deviating from their plan?” The boy’s eyes widen. “But that’s what you want them to do—that’s why you said it’s risky. You want to spring the trap.”

Raijin shrugs and leans back against the wall that his futon is pushed against. “We were never going to be able to hold out forever. I think we’re still better off waiting and playing along with them. It might catch them off guard when we deviate later if nothing else.”

“Or we catch them off guard now,” Shisui concludes. “You already know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

Raijin sighs and nods. “I had a feeling.”

Shisui grins. “I’ll pack my things.”

Snorting, the blond shakes his head. “Get some sleep after if you can. We’ll leave once night has fallen.”

It becomes harder to keep track of whether they’re being followed or not once they leave the city behind for the surrounding forestry. Less people mean less emotions to pick out the empty spots among. The only person Raijin can feel now is Shisui.

Still, he doubts they’d be left to their own devices considering this is Danzou’s scheme. If he has ordered these shinobi to watch them, then that’s what they’ll do, come hell or high water.

Raijin isn’t too worried about the threat they’d pose to him should they attack. In fact, if that’s all Danzou has in store for them, he would count himself lucky. Even with his self-imposed limit, Raijin knows there are very few who could match him, and those shinobi would have to be at Kage-level themselves. Having Shisui around might prove a small challenge since they’ve never actually fought together, and Raijin has no idea what the nine-year-old is capable of aside from his rumoured speed, but it shouldn’t be that much of a problem, right?

The fact that Danzou can’t possibly have anticipated the true extent of Raijin’s strength is an ace in the hole for sure. Still, he cannot help his unease…

Would Danzou be satisfied with just that for now? What does he truly desire from this—their deaths, their fear, their cooperation?

In the end, Raijin never had to face this man. His misdeeds came to light thanks to Sasuke in Raijin’s future, but that too was a head-on battle. In a match of schemes of underhanded tactics, Raijin is less sure of what to expect.

For now, he can do little else but wait and see.

Chapter Text

In hindsight, it’s a little embarrassing that Raijin takes a while to realise that the ROOT agents were trying to subtly herd him and Shisui somewhere. To be fair, Raijin is less used to methods of subtlety since most of his shinobi career has involved large scale invasions of some sort. He just…didn’t notice.

Their first attempt was probably with the coyote. The normal shinobi response to that would be to shift camp, right? That’s what Shisui had suggested they do when he shook Raijin awake. Raijin had groggily erected a barrier seal and gone right back to sleep; his eyes pretty much closed the whole time.

So, the ROOT shinobi had upped the ante and lured a bear close to them the next day. Raijin had left Shisui with a clone, gone to the bear and let some of Kurama’s chakra loose to sufficiently mark his territory, and then they’d carried on their merry way with the bear scared off.

Sure is convenient sometimes to have the ultimate apex predator on hand for moments like these. No other animal wants to risk pissing off something like the Kyuubi, and Kurama likes getting to throw his weight around every now and then because he’s a gangster at heart.

Needless to say, since the prodding didn’t work because Raijin is kind of obtuse and Shisui is just happy to go along with most things, the ROOT ninja finally had to resort to what was probably their final option—a full frontal assault.

That, at least, Raijin did notice. Even he can’t ignore something like the forest quite literally starting to smoke around them.

The forests close to the border of Storms tend to be drier than the ones that grow closer to Konoha where the humidity makes it harder for fire to catch. Here, where the foliage is packed closely together enough for spread to be fast and the air is dry during summer, a wildfire is relatively quick to catch and hard to control.

Raijin doesn’t know any suiton jutsu large enough to control something like this and Shisui doesn’t seem to have mastered more than one chakra nature yet either, so their best option is to run.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly what their masked little friends were hoping for.

A wind-natured and a fire-natured shinobi stumble into a forest fire.  

It sounds like the start of a terrible joke and Shisui hates that his life is apparently the punchline.

He has never been afraid of fire. He’s an Uchiha; to them, fire is sacred. It has kept them alive for generations and it continues to do so even now. All their biggest festivals and rituals revolve around it. Births and weddings are celebrated by lighting lanterns, and upon death, they are cremated so they may return to that which welcomed them into life in the first place.

Shisui thinks it would be all sorts of terribly ironic if he were to perish in a forest fire of all things.

Raijin doesn’t seem to be sweating about it (hah!) like Shisui, so at least there’s that. The blond appears to be much more concerned about what they’re being forced to run towards rather than what they’re running from.

Which, okay, valid. Shisui should probably be thinking ahead like a good shinobi too instead of giving into his more primal fears like some sort of civilian.

“Things aren’t looking too hot, Raijin-san,” he comments.

The ill-timed pun earns him a withering stare. Raijin shakes his head and turns back to look ahead, pursing his lips. “What do they want to take us to?” he wonders aloud.

Shisui looks around and dryly suggests, “Hell, maybe.”

“Maybe,” Raijin acknowledges, snorting. “I didn’t think he’d want us dead. His usual go-to is frightening people into compliance.”

Shisui thinks about this as they leap over a falling tree. “What would he gain by killing you? Killing me won’t get him much, I can tell you that.”

“Unless he’s using us to set an example,” Raijin says grimly.

‘Ah,’ Shisui thinks, dread settling within him. ‘If Danzou’s go-to is scaring people into compliance then killing Raijin-san is the means, not the goal. Who is he really aiming for?’

And the answer is simple once he’s looking for it:

Namikaze Minato.

They run for nearly an hour through the burning forest with the ANBU shinobi keeping pace and blocking off any other paths they could take, stoking the flames through calculated usage of jutsu. They operate from within the flames; no fear and no tolerance for failure.

Shisui can feel himself starting to flag. His heart is beating too loudly in his ears, his mouth is filled with the sour taste of smoke and his lungs burn. “I’m not going to last very long like this,” he warns his partner. His voice does not shake but his hands are starting to. He’s too tired to hide it.

Raijin curses and grabs Shisui’s arm, all but throwing the boy onto his back in one smooth motion. “Hang on, kid.”

Obediently wrapping his arms around the blond, Shisui lets himself slump against Raijin and close his eyes, pressing his cheek against the older shinobi’s shoulder. He hates being like this—having to rely on others and acting like a helpless kid, but there’s not much he can do right now. Besides, Raijin’s chakra feels nice where it wrapped around him; like Shisui is by the sea instead of a raging fire. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “M’not used to so much moving around.”

The pace of their travels has been demanding with little room for rest. Shisui knows he’s a good shinobi, but he can’t help that he’s only nine-years-old and has the physiology and chakra reserves to match.

“Yeah, sorry, I should have realised.” Raijin doesn’t even sound out of breath. Shisui is immediately jealous. “Not everyone has my level of stamina.”

Narrowing his eyes, Shisui turns to peer at the man. “I think the smoke inhalation screwed me over more than anything else.”

“Ah.” Raijin hisses through his teeth. “Forgot that was a thing.”

The way he says it makes it seem like he’s talking more to himself than Shisui but it’s not like Shisui is going to miss anything, plastered to Raijin’s back as he is. He frowns. “How do you just forget that smoke inhalation is a thing?” Ugh, now that he isn’t having to move on his own, Shisui feels sleepy.

Raijin jostles him slightly when he jumps next, startling Shisui awake. He hadn’t realised he’d fallen asleep for a second there. “It doesn’t really affect me,” the blond comments. “I have a pretty great healing factor. My body metabolises most toxins too quickly for them to take, including carbon monoxide.”

“That’s so cool.” Shisui’s head lolls to the side and tips against Raijin’s. “Is that a kekkei genkai? Can the Yondaime do it too?”

“Uh, no.” Raijin sounds distracted. “Nope. I’m pretty sure it’s an exclusive ability or something. It’s why I’m not using a barrier seal for us to take shelter behind right now.”

Shisui makes a sound of displeasure. “Mm, why not?”

“Because mine don’t filter out the air. I didn’t account for anyone else using them. If I stuck you in one with me, you’d just get severe carbon monoxide poisoning.”

“It’d put me to sleep,” Shisui concludes. He blinks his eyes open. When did he close them?

“Forever; yeah.”

Raijin says something else; Shisui knows he does, but he’s trying to focus too hard on staying awake, so he ends up missing it entirely. He’s so warm from the fire and from Raijin’s own body heat. Shisui sighs and melts into the heat. His brain feels sluggish and he tries to get his eyelids to open but they won’t cooperate.

He thinks Raijin is still saying something, but he can’t hear the words; only the cadence of the man’s voice registers in Shisui’s tired mind. The sound of Raijin’s voice follows him into the creeping darkness, and then Shisui knows no more.

Okay. So. Show of hands: Raijin has no plan.

What he does have is a severely exhausted child, a burning forest, five ROOT shinobi, and a clearing approaching up ahead which is probably the location they were being driven to in the first place.

Oh, and signs of life in that clearing since he’s feeling other people’s emotions again. Lovely. An ambush.

Just the thing he needed.

‘The spirits of this forest are going to hate humans forever,’ Kurama remarks dispassionately.

Fine, so he also has angry forest gods but that’s a problem for later.

‘Spill the blood of those who have done this and offer it to them,’ Kurama advises. ‘It will quell some of that anger.’

Gritting his teeth, Raijin pointedly says, ‘Can we solve one problem at a time please?’

‘Ah, yes, I forget your peanut brain is incapable of multitasking.’

‘My brain is not peanut-sized!’ he argues indignantly.

Kurama is not impressed. ‘I’m the one who lives with it. What would you know?’

He so does not need this right now. Raijin sends a mental flick to his friend and hurls himself through the last of the treeline to come into the clearing.

For a moment, everything is silent. His muscles tense in anticipation, grip tightening around Shisui. Kurama too has retreated from the front of his mind. It’s just Raijin.

And then all at once, an explosion of movement as his enemies announce their presence through a wave of kunai and shuriken heading towards him from what feels like every direction. Raijin leaps back, barely managing to free one hand for the handsigns to a futon that strikes out in a curve around him, redirecting most of the weapons and buying him just enough time to form his clones.

His first priority needs to be to get Shisui to safety. Raijin hands the boy off to one of his waiting clones. “Two of you: find cover, set up a barrier and stay there. Go.”

“You got it, boss!”

They take off while the rest of them turn back to where their opponents have recovered. Three of them leap down from the trees. One of them has dual swords that Bee would probably approve of. One of them stays hidden somewhere in the treeline judging by what Raijin feels moments before they tamp down on their emotions in favour of a mission ready calm.

Another two immediately take off in the direction that his clones went with Shisui.

Alright, at least he knows who to go after first.

“Distract those guys!” he throws over his shoulder, creating more. He needs this to be done quickly so he can get back to the little Uchiha in his care. Being away is making him nervous and being nervous leads to mistakes.

Better to just overwhelm them with sheer numbers and catch them off guard.

The kunoichi whirls around before he can get in close enough to sever her jugular, meeting his kunai with her own. There is a flash of surprise on her face that bleeds into grim-edged determination. Her Grass hitai-ate has a slash through it.

Narrowing his eyes, he twists his arm, forcing the kunoichi’s arm into an odd angle until she releases her blade and decides to try her luck with aiming a hard punch at his ribs instead. Raijin leaps back and is forced into another backward flip when she follows closely with a sweep for where his feet would have landed.

A kunai whistles as it flies past, mere inches from his face. The faintest buzz of electricity lingers in the air in its wake. So, the other shinobi has noticed and is officially backing up his partner instead of going after Shisui. Good.

The memories of the clones that have popped flood his brain, neatly categorising themselves without him needing to linger on them even as Raijin forms the signs for a katon that the pair has to leap away from to avoid. His opponents seem to be in a range of high chuunin to mid jounin level. One of them continues to remain hidden stubbornly.

He can work with this.

Not everyone has the luxury of throwing out as many chakra demanding jutsu as he does without thinking twice. Raijin is a powerhouse of no parallel for a reason. He is unfiltered brute force when it really counts. Nothing about the way he fights is particularly graceful. It is awe-inspiring though.

If his enemies thought they would have the upper hand simply because there are more of them, that is their mistake.

Raijin calls up an earth wall to crouch behind just in time to avoid a raiton net being thrown his way. He switches with a clone underground and pops up behind the kunoichi instead, taking her down while she is distracted by watching her partner engage his clone.

The partner whips around when he realises what has happened, barely managing to respond when Raijin is on him in a second, crowding in close and not letting up for a second until finally the other shinobi is just a heartbeat too late to avoid a decisive nerve strike that knocks him out.

His clones have managed to put another of the opponents out of commission. That leaves two more in the clearing with Raijin. So far, their aim has seemed closer to maim and capture, but it seems that he has managed to piss them off enough that they’re looking to just kill him altogether now.

That’s just as well. It will make no difference to Raijin.

He shunshins into the heart of the fight, dismissing some of his clones so they don’t impair his own visibility, and releasing a wind blade jutsu before his new opponents can realise any difference between fighting him and his clones.

Grimacing as the blade neatly catches one of the shinobi around the middle, Raijin absently waves his hand to unleash enough of a gust of wind that the subsequent spray of blade is swept away before it can reach him. He turns to look for the other shinobi who’d had enough foresight to trigger a kawarimi and leave behind a log of wood in his stead.

He feels the disturbance in the air behind him and, before he can even think twice about it, switches places with the clone next to him. The kage bunshin is immediately dispelled by the hit and the sworsdsman growls in wordless frustration at the failed attack.

Raijin snorts and whirls into a roundhouse kick while the other shinobi is distracted. The swordsman just about manages to dodge, though Raijin’s foot does manage to clip his shoulder enough that one of his arms ought to be out of commission.

With his kenjutsu and ninjutsu now probably drastically limited, the other shinobi is starting to look visibly panicked. Raijin almost feels bad for him.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t translate into mercy.

Soon enough, it is Raijin who stands alone in the clearing.

‘No,’ Kurama murmurs in his mind, bringing him to attention. ‘You aren’t alone yet. Remember the one who is hiding.’

The air shifts. The final enemy has revealed himself at last. Raijin stiffens.

“Kakuzu.”

Shisui comes to slowly, throat painfully dry and head pounding. His eyes are still stinging a little, but nowhere near as bad as they were while they were still stuck in the burning forest.

A touch of salt and starburst chakra against his before the feeling of a flask against his mouth. Shisui grabs at the flask immediately, still blinking spots out of his vision as he sits up with the help of warm hands at his back.

“What happened?” he asks, annoyed that it comes out half slurred. He twists, squinting at the rippling luminescence of Raijin’s barrier seal.

“We’re hiding until Boss gives us the all clear,” replies Raijin, smoothing Shisui’s hair out of his face patiently.

Shisui frowns, blinking hard to clear the last of his vision before turning to raise an eyebrow at the blond. “The Boss?” he repeats in confusion.

Raijin looks amused as he flashes him a bright smile. “I’m a clone!” he declares cheerfully. “I’ve got a few buddies keeping the ROOT agents occupied while I watch over you. Glad to see you awake by the way, kid.”

“Uh, thanks.” Shisui blinks. “Wait, but you’re so solid.”

“Shadow clones are like that.” The clone shrugs, twisting the flask shut and storing it back in Shisui’s pack.

Eyebrows shooting up in disbelief, Shisui asks, “Multiple shadow clones? Isn’t that, like, kind of illegal?”

Raijin 2.0 shrugs again, winking mischievously. “Only for those who don’t have the chakra reserves to handle it.” Then, looking thoughtful, he adds as an afterthought, “You probably shouldn’t try until you're older though. Your chakra coils don't finish developing till you're fifteen. Don’t do anything to screw that up.”

Shisui stares for a moment longer before shaking his head, deciding to focus on the more important matters at hand. “You said there’s a couple of your friends holding the ROOT agents off.”

Nodding, the clone elaborates, “I think the plan was always to get you guys to split up and then overwhelm you separately. They probably want to kill Boss off, but it seems like they want to simply capture you.”

A part of him wonders how the clone can so easily say all this when the original Raijin is probably out there still actively fighting for his life. Shisui exhales.

“Why would they want to take me?”

Smiling wryly, Raijin points out, “Young minds are easier to shape. Not to mention, Danzou probably covets those special eyes of yours since he’s a creep of the highest order.”

“But you’re the more skilled one.”

Raijin considers this, tipping his head at an angle that strikes Shisui as strangely uncanny for some reason. “Boss is more valuable to Danzou dead,” announces the clone, completely blasé. “You’ve realised it too, haven’t you, Shisui-kun? All this is a message to the Yondaime. If he wants the rest of his family and friends safe in the future, he’ll stop challenging Danzou so much. He might try to take Boss hostage to negotiate the same thing, but since Boss will prove to be trickier than he probably expected, Danzou will think it will be better to just kill him. It will be a warning to all the other clans too.”

“If the Hokage’s own blood isn’t safe, no one’s is,” Shisui infers numbly. He’d realised this himself, but it’s different hearing this from the mouth of someone older and more experienced. Somehow, it feels more real this way. It sinks in just how royally fucked they are.

“What if the other clones can’t hold off the ROOT shinobi?” he asks.

“They can,” the clone answers serenely, “and if they can’t, then that’s what we’re behind a barrier for. I’m still working on an air filter feature in case they try an aerial toxin to harm you again, but we’re safe from almost everything else.”

Shisui had no idea that shadow clones could be this useful even outside their creator’s influence, but he is now suitably horrified by Raijin’s dependency on them. Narrowing his eyes, he asks, “How many of you are running around right now? Won’t Raijin-san be running short on chakra if there’s too many of you?”

Raijin may be smart enough to realise that too many clones would put him at a disadvantage but it’s also exactly the sort of harebrained self-sacrificial bullshit Shisui can see him pulling despite being aware. The only people Shisui would risk himself like that for are Itachi and his parents. Raijin seems like he’d do it for anyone.

The clone smiles secretively. “Don’t worry about Boss’s chakra reserves. He’s got plenty to spare.”

“How can you know that though?” Shisui demands, frustrated. “We’re here cowering behind his seals while he’s out there fighting by himself with like a quarter of his usual reserves.”

For a moment, the clone watches him with unreadable eyes. Then, he repeats, “Boss will be fine. He’s strong.”

Dragging a hand over his face, Shisui grits his teeth against his headache and exhales harshly. “I know that, but you can’t just—” He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “He isn’t infallible. No one is. It’s dangerously arrogant of you to just believe he’ll be fine when I can help. He needs backup. Especially if they’re actively trying to kill him.”

“Boss asked to keep you out of harm’s way because your presence will distract him.”

“Because I’d intervene in his stupidly altruistic plans,” Shisui retorts. “He can’t be out there by himself.”

The clone is starting to look frustrated now too. ‘Good,’ Shisui thinks vindictively. Let him feel some of the cloying annoyance burning in Shisui’s lungs right alongside the damned smoke.

“You’re at half your regular capacity,” Raijin stresses. “You’re also the one they actively want to steal away. Why would you want to leave?”

“You’re the one they want to kill!” Shisui throws back heatedly.

“They’re not going to succeed.” Shisui has no idea how the clone can sound so certain about this. “Boss can handle himself.”

As soon as those words leave Raijin’s mouth, something in the distance explodes with enough force that the ground under them shakes with it. Shisui’s heart shakes too.

The thing with most barrier seals is that they’re meant to keep things out. Shisui knows the odds of this being one such barrier too. He knows the rough distance towards the site of the explosion where he’s sure Raijin is, and he knows the speed he’ll need to go at to get there without the clone catching hold of him before he gets there. Shisui knows he could make it.

He’s up and gone before Raijin’s annoying clone can even process what’s happening. A delirious laugh bubbles out of Shisui’s mouth as he hears the loud and colourful swearing that kicks up behind him.

“Get back here, you little hellion!”

There’s the telltale sound of branches creaking under an adult shinobi’s weight but Shisui doesn’t turn. He doesn’t worry.

They’ve begun calling Shunshin no Shisui these days. He gave them good reason to do so. Shisui carefully directs chakra into his legs, reinforcing the muscles and pushing them to the limit as he runs, shooting through the air like he’s all but weightless.

He breaks through the treeline and into a clearing, narrowing his eyes at the scene before him, letting red bleed into them until the world is pulled into focus with stark clarity.

There is a man—a nukenin—with two strange masked black creatures attached to him, heaving at the heart of the smoke still clearing up from whatever led to an eruption so charged with chakra. One of his arms has been severed, bloody black threads hanging limply from its stump now.

And opposite him stands Raijin, blond hair dusty and panting, but tall and relatively unhurt. Judging from the wide spread destruction to the terrain and the lingering chakra that hangs in the air, Raijin remaining unscathed is impressive—only large scale battles have been fought here with powerful jutsu being thrown around and still he retains the upper hand.

Shisui watches with his breath caught. He doesn’t even flinch when the familiar chakra signature comes to a stop behind him.

“I told you he’d be fine.” The clone sounds exasperated.

But Shisui is still trying to wrap his around things. He can count five bodies on the ground even now. Danzou wouldn’t have sent anyone weak after them; it isn’t like him to waste resources when his goal is so clearly to maim, capture or kill. And Raijin fought all these people by himself?

The Root shinobi too, Shisui reminds himself. Raijin’s clones are just extensions of himself. He’s fighting the ROOT shinobi right now too then.

It’s not like he hadn’t know Raijin was strong. Everyone had heard about his battle in Kumogakure where he held off over five hundred shinobi by himself, in enemy territory, for hours. But it's one thing to hear things like that, and it's another to see evidence that it was true. 

“I think I need to sit down,” he mumbles.

The clone squawks. “Are you going to pass out again? Boss is gonna kill me.”

And then, as if to prove this point, Raijin starts preparing his next jutsu, gathering what appears to be a swirling mass of unfiltered wind chakra in his palms. Shisui watches, a bit numb, as the mass starts to take form into a condensed sphere.

The look on Raijin’s face is nothing like Shisui has ever seen on him before; it’s cold and focused. His blue eyes look almost unnatural like this.

It’s like Raijin has sucked out all the air from around them and gathered it in the palm of his hand. He pulls his arms back and—

Shisui’s eyes squeeze shut against his will from the sheer force of the torrent in the aftermath. It feels like the entire world explodes into sound, wind, chakra and debris. Shisui thinks he hears screaming but that might just be the ringing in his ears.

When he opens his eyes, the clone beside him has forcibly dispelled, unable to stand the power either.

The nukenin Raijin is fighting looks to be in much the same boat, laying in a broken heap at the centre of a crater singed right into the earth. He isn’t moving, but Raijin approaches the man all the same, still wearing the frigid calm from earlier.

Leaping into the crater in one smooth move, for a moment, the blond stands over the nukenin. Then, condensing wind chakra into a tight sphere on the tip of his finger, almost like a bullet, Raijin flicks downward, letting his jutsu pierce right through the other shinobi’s chest, presumably through his heart.

“Farewell, Kakuzu.”

Around them, the dust is finally starting to settle a little. Shisui opens his mouth to call out to Raijin—

A sharp pain blooms through the back of his neck. Shisui gasps in surprise, whirling around with wide eyes to find a ROOT kunoichi who had managed to sneak up on him while he’d been distracted, her mask cracked and armour damaged and covered in her own blood, arm still outstretched from when she released the senbon that is now embedded in Shisui’s neck.

‘Poison,’ he thinks and pulls the senbon out before he can even think better of it. Sure enough, the tip of it is coated with something, though he can’t identify it.

Something whistles right past his ear, and Shisui looks up just in time to see a kunai embed itself in the ROOT kunoichi’s throat. With a trembling hand, she reaches for it, fingers curling around the hilt. Shisui look away but he’s still in range for the spray of warm blood that follows the kunai being pulled out. He hears the thump of a limp body hitting the soft earth.

As if in sympathy, his own knees give out, pulling Shisui to the cool forest floor. There are ashes on the ground from the fire. He wonders if someone put it out yet. The nature gods will be upset enough as it is; someone should do something about that.

Someone lands beside him. Shisui twitches in surprise and feels immediate relief that he can, in fact, still move. Paralysis hasn't set in; he’s just in shock. Good. The poison’s effects have not truly taken just yet.

“Shisui-kun, come on,” someone is whispering. Shisui blinks his eyes open and squints, trying to focus past the tears he hadn’t realised were clouding his vision. “There you are.”

“Raijin-san,” he mumbles, sighing at the warmth of another human body as he is pulled into the older shinobi’s arms. Shisui’s head falls against Raijin’s chest and he leans into it, liking how Raijin’s heart beats like a drum under his ear.

“Yeah, I’ve got you, buddy,” Raijin responds. He’s gentle when he lifts Shisui up and holds him close, like Shisui is a precious baby that he is cradling. “I’ve got you.”

“I think I'm poisoned,” Shisui informs. A tear slides into his ear. It tickles. He wishes he could laugh but his chest still kind of hurts from the smoke earlier. Besides, he’s a little occupied with crying right now.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” Raijin says. His voice sounds oddly tight. Maybe he’s crying too. “Just hang in there, okay? I’m gonna get you home.”

“Am I going to die, Raijin-san?” he asks. Shisui sniffles; he can’t help it.

Vehemently, Raijin tells him, “You’re not going to die.”

“I think I might,” Shisui whispers. A sob rips out of his mouth and he flinches away from the sound and how it hurts his throat. “I think I’m dying. Itachi will be sad. Mom and dad too.”

“No,” Raijin says. “You’re not dying. No one else is dying. Not again.”

“I don’t want to die.” Shisui is properly crying now. He feels every bit of his age. He feels small. He wants his mom. “I don’t want to die.”

His head hurts. The world keeps swimming in his vision and it’s making him nauseous, so he closes his eyes. 

“Shisui-kun? Hey, come on, kid. Stay awake for me. Please, stay awake.”

Shisui hums. “I’m scared,” he confesses. He hopes Raijin won’t tell anyone. He hopes it’s quick. He hopes it’s just like falling asleep. He thinks he's falling asleep now. His mind feels sluggish already. It's almost like he's swimming. Flying. Floating. Right out of his body. Dreaming.

“I hope it doesn’t hurt,” he admits quietly.

And then the world falls away.

Chapter Text

Shisui isn’t moving. He’s so small and so still in Raijin’s arms. His little face has lost all its colour and his hair is plastered all over his forehead, and he’s so small and he isn’t moving and—

‘Focus,’ Kurama murmurs, probing into the front of Raijin’s mind, gently unfurling his presence there. ‘He’s alive. Breathing. It’s just shock.’

Right. He’s right. Shisui isn’t dead; he’s just asleep. His chest is still rising and falling. His heart is still beating. Neither function appears to be laboured.

Raijin takes a deep breath and very carefully swallows down the scream that wants to tear out his mouth. He has to focus. For Shisui, he has to focus. He can do this. He’s okay. Shisui is going to be okay.

‘Just take it one step at a time,’ Kurama soothes. ‘What is the next thing you have to do?’

‘Get to Konoha,’ Raijin answers. But Konoha is practically on the other side of the country. Land of Fire is massive and Raijin is on the opposite side of it from where he needs to be. There’s no telling if he will make it in time. What if something happens to Shisui before that? What if—?

A mental swat and the impression of irritation. ‘That’s your goal, idiot. You want to get the runt to your village as soon as possible. What is your best option to do that?’

If Raijin pushes himself to his absolute top speed and doesn’t rest, he can get there by tomorrow afternoon. That’s too much time. He needs to find another way. What else could he do?

And then it hits him.

“Of course,” he mutters. He’d smack his forehead if his hands weren’t currently occupied by a poisoned nine-year-old. “I can just ask for help.”

The warmth of approval. Kurama retreats slightly from the forefront of his mind. ‘Good, kit. Just focus on your next step. You’ll be okay.’

Right. Raijin breathes and nods to himself. It’s going to be okay.

As reluctant as he is to admit it, Orochimaru has to concede that Minato makes a decent Hokage.

The blond is smart and audacious, but also very clearly passionate about bringing a positive change that benefits the populace more than anything else. He has clear objectives and takes solid steps to achieve them. Orochimaru can give credit where it is due at the very least.

Except for the past few days, the Hokage has appeared to be uncharacteristically distracted, face twisted into a perpetual frown that is unusual for someone who tries to appear so disgustingly friendly all the time.

Not even the rehabilitation programme—something of a passion project for Minato from Orochimaru’s understanding—is enough to rouse the man from his preoccupied state.

It’s clearly ticking Tsunade off. Orochimaru does nothing to mediate; the fallout is sure to be entertaining, and he isn’t going to ruin it for himself.

Impatiently drumming her nails along the grain of the wood, Orochimaru observes in fascination as Tsunade silently starts to turn an impressive shade of red while the both of them wait for Minato to finish skimming through their notes. The younger man has been staring at the same page for the past five minutes, eyes all but glazed over, and it has clearly been causing Tsunade’s blood pressure to steadily rise.

Finally snapping, Tsunade smacks her palm against the table and rises to her feet. Orochimaru’s eyes gleam.

“Seriously, what is going on with you?” she demands, crossing her arms. “Your head clearly isn’t in the game today.”

Minato blinks, startled. His face flushes with embarrassment. “My apologies, Tsunade-san,” he offers sheepishly.

“You’re totally spaced out and it’s wasting time and—”

Orochimaru can pinpoint the exact second Minato’s eyes glaze over again. No doubt Tsunade can too because her rant cuts off into a high-pitched noise in the back of her throat that is pure incoherent aggravation.

What is interesting is the way Minato perks up, looking more attentive than he has in days, but clearly still not on the same page as them. He’s completely elsewhere.

“Oh,” the Hokage says. “Sorry. I’m being summoned.”

“Summoned?” Orochimaru repeats in question.

He doesn’t quite his answer though because Minato is promptly gone in a flash of golden light, leaving just him and Tsunade in the otherwise empty office.

Orochimaru leans back in his chair and sighs.

Throwing her hands up, Tsunade screeches.  

“Fucking typical!”

Minato knows something is wrong the second he lands in a forest on the other side of the country.

Of course, Raijin wouldn’t have summoned him if he didn’t believe it was some kind of emergency. But even more than that, it’s the horrible broken look on his face and the overwhelming relief that washes over the despair when Minato appears before him.

There is only a split second’s warning before Minato quite suddenly finds himself with an armful of distressed little brother and apparently unconscious young Uchiha. Stumbling back slightly from the sudden weight, Minato carefully wraps his arms around Raijin even as he moulds his chakra to stretch it out and sense for any enemies.

As though he can tell what Minato is doing, Raijin pulls away slightly with a sniffle. “There’s no one else. I took them all out.” After a pause, he adds, “Five of them were ROOT. I killed them.”

So, this was a set-up.

Minato exhales and tightens his grip. “Okay.” Their bodies will need to be removed. He’s sure there’s someone on a mission nearby that can detour to collect the corpses as evidence. “What did you need then, otouto?”

Raijin’s face crumples. “Shisui. You have to help him. I couldn’t get there in time. I didn’t even realise she was there and then suddenly he was poisoned and I don’t know how to help him, nii-chan. What if he’s dying? It’d be my fault I couldn’t look after him and—”

“Raijin, breathe,” Minato interrupts, squeezing his brother’s shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here now.”

“Right,” Raijin inhales deeply, “yes. You’re here now. You can take him with you to get help.”

Frowning slightly, Minato tilts his head even as he gently takes Shisui from Raijin. “What about you? I came to get you too.”

Something dark passes over Raijin’s face. “I’m going to clean up here first. I don’t want to risk the evidence getting erased. You can take Shisui; I’ll just catch up with you later in Konoha.”

It’s a sound plan. It’s also a plan Minato isn’t too interested in following after four days of stressing over his little brother’s wellbeing and obsessively tracking his location just to make sure he’s still alive.

“Collect the bodies. I’ll take Shisui first, and then once he’s put up at the hospital, I’m coming back to get you,” Minato states plainly. Raijin opens his mouth to protest but Minato cuts him off before he can even start. “No arguments. I’ve been worried out of my mind, Raijin. I’m not taking my eyes off you for a second longer than I absolutely have to.”

Raijin stares at him for a moment, something unreadable in his eyes. Minato can’t quite shake the uncanniness of seeing him look so…cold. Like he’s not all there somehow. He’s assuming that it’s because of how stressful the whole situation has been for Raijin, but something just feels wrong even if he can’t tell what it is exactly.

Not for the first time, Minato wishes that Raijin would just tell him what he’s thinking.

Finally, his younger brother nods. “Okay. Let’s do that then.” He holds his hand out expectantly for one of Minato’s three-pronged kunai and passes his fingers through Shisui’s curls one last time before stepping back so Minato can teleport away.

“I’ll be right back for you, okay?” Minato says.

“Sure, nii-chan.” Raijin offers him a smile, though it is wan and nothing like his usual sunny grins. “I’ll see you soon.”

Minato wanted Raijin to come in immediately for a report so they can begin planning on a way to use their disastrous mission as proof to limit Danzou’s power and hopefully get him arrested. Raijin politely refused and asked to remain at the hospital so he can be there when the doctors have determined Shisui’s condition.

His older brother had looked conflicted, no doubt still reluctant to let Raijin out of his sights, but he had agreed eventually. He’d probably thought that now that Raijin is back in Konoha, he’ll be easier to keep safe from a certain old warmonger.

The thought process is sound. It’s not like Minato can account for all of Raijin’s unpredictable tendencies.

Smiling wryly to himself, Raijin sends a mental apology to his brother. He might have let things be as easy as Minato wants them to be any other day, indulgent as he has been in the luxury of actually having a family to keep happy. Danzou has woken him up from the pleasant dream rather thoroughly though, and Raijin will not let his guard down again.

He came here because he had a job to do. He intends to see it through now.

And after that… well, he’ll have to see.

He looks up as the medic in charge of taking care of Shisui enters the waiting area. She doesn’t look particularly apologetic or pitying as doctors do when they have bad news to deliver, but still Raijin holds his breath as he stands to wait for her verdict.

“He’s going to be just fine,” the medic tells him, smiling slightly at the way he so clearly slumps over in relief. “The heavy smoke inhalation coupled with the paralytic and the shock to his system did a number on him, but we successfully managed to detoxify his bloodstream. He’ll need to remain on oxygen for a few hours, but with a lot of rest, he will make a full recovery.”

“Thank you,” he says, pushing as much sincerity as he can into his words. “Will you keep him overnight?”

She nods. “We’ll need to keep observing him just to make sure everything remains stable, but he should be good to go home by the morning. You’ll need to pick up some antibiotics for him though. He’s young, so it’s better to err on the side of caution and make sure there’s no chance of him contracting an infection.”

“His mother will be here soon. She’ll be who you need to give the prescription to.”

“I’ll do that then,” the medic confirms. “We’re moving him to a ward now, but you should be able to see him soon if you’d like.” With that, she offers him a parting smile before moving on to her next patient.

Raijin exhales. So, the poison had only been a paralytic. Shisui is going to be fine. He hasn’t failed another person again. He can still fix things.

Nodding, he goes to exit the waiting room. He needs to stop by his apartment to replenish his supplies and reconvene with his summons. The bodies of Danzou’s subordinates will need to be dropped off too. ANBU can’t be trusted as much as Minato thinks they can, so it will have to be the Police Force. Raijin would rather not be seen and risk getting stopped for questioning though. It would just waste time. So, he’s going to need to go in a henge or just sneak in. Maybe one of his foxes will agree to make a delivery?

“Come on, Sakura-chan. Please stop crying, baby.”

Raijin freezes despite himself, every train of thought coming to a grinding halt. Logically, he knows that ‘Sakura’ is by no means an uncommon name. Plenty of girls are named after cherry blossoms. There’s no reason for it to be his Sakura.

But what if it is?

He’s turning towards the sound of a baby crying before he even knows what he’s doing, driven by the compulsion to be sure on the off chance it is his Sakura. The girl who’d been his sister in all but blood, his left hand, his best friend. How could he ever not turn to look?

There’s a stressed-out looking woman sitting in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, clearly flustered as she bounces her crying baby in her arms to no avail. No amount of pleading, shushing or soothing seems to be working, and the woman looks about five seconds away from giving up and joining her incensed child in having a breakdown in the waiting room of the hospital’s paediatrics section.

Raijin approaches her as if transfixed. When he is near enough to catch just the barest glimpse of tufts of pink hair poking out from the baby’s blanket, it is all he can do to not just collapse on the floor and start bawling too.

Instead, he plasters a smile on his face and forces his shoulders to remain relaxed. “Excuse me,” he starts politely, “I was wondering if you might need some help?”

The woman turns to him with wide eyes, uncertainty and embarrassment colouring her face even before a horrified sort of recognition washes over it. Raijin has only ever seen Sakura’s parents from afar, but now he can see that his friend got much of her features from her mother.

“You’re the Hokage’s brother!” Haruno Mebuki yelps. “Oh, I’m so sorry about this. Sakura-chan has been so fussy all day and I just can’t seem to get her to calm down. We must be creating such a scene. I just don’t know what to do and you probably think I’m a terrible mother!”

Raijin gapes at her for perhaps just a second too long because Mebuki’s eyes are starting to look suspiciously bright the longer he flounders with what to say to the obviously overwhelmed new mother.

“I don’t think you’re a bad mom at all!” Raijin blurts out, waving his hands. “I know babies can be really stressful and demanding and stuff. It’s totally normal to struggle at first! You’re just new to the whole motherhood thing is all.”

Mebuki sniffles and nods. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just blurt all that out.”

“It’s alright,” Raijin assures her, finally managing to muster up what feels like his first genuine smile of the day. “If you’d like, I can hold her for a little bit to give you a break?”

Mebuki looks unsure, glancing down to where baby Sakura’s face is still red and wet with tears. “I couldn’t ask that of you,” she starts. “She’s just being extra fussy after her shot today. I’m sure she’ll calm down soon enough.”

“Babies seem to like my chakra for some reason. Apparently, it’s warm and they find it comforting or something,” Raijin offers. “It might help. You just look like you could use a second to catch your breath. It wouldn’t be any trouble for me to wait here with your daughter for a moment.”

More than anything, it probably helps that he’s the Hokage’s beloved brother and the object of a lot of attention every time he’s out in public. If he tries to kidnap Sakura or something, it’s not going to go unnoticed. Mebuki clearly realises this too judging by the quick glance she casts around to gauge the number of people occupying the waiting room with them.

Finally, she looks back at him and the temptation is written all over her face. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind, shinobi-san?”

Raijin smiles patiently. “Not at all.”

“Thank you,” she breathes, standing up to carefully hand her baby over to him. “I’m going to make a quick stop by the bathroom then. I’ll be just a moment.”

“Take your time,” he assures her and then he is left alone, a pink-haired bundle pressed to his chest, the world right here in his arms.

When he looks down, Sakura has stopped crying long enough to stare at the bright yellow of his hair, blinking with watery green eyes as she sniffles, button nose scrunching up slightly. Her chakra is a little spark of cotton-meadow-river-spring that quivers curiously when Raijin reaches for it with his own. Something almost like wonder settles on her face, eyes losing focus slightly as she concentrates on what might just be one of her first ever chakra interactions.

She can’t quite control it yet, but she does manage to get it to fizzle slightly. Raijin laughs at its bubbly texture and imitates it with his own, fizzing back at Sakura much to her delight. She coos, mouth pulling up into a gummy smile and clapping her hands together. Her chakra bubbles again before it slips out of her grasp, clearly confusing the baby enough into scowling up at Raijin as though she suspects he is to blame.

“You’re the same no matter what, huh?” He grins, reaching out to boop her on the nose, his smile easing at the edges when Sakura grabs at his finger and waves it about in one chubby fist. “I’m really happy to see you again, Sakura-chan. I missed you.”

Sakura coos again, giggling when his chakra swirls around hers in lazy circles.

“You gotta grow up and be super strong again, okay?” he whispers to her, holding her close. Sakura looks intrigued by his whiskers and tries to reach for them. He leans down so he’s within range enough for her to pat at his face. “I’m trying my best to fix things just like I promised, so that one day, when you’re big enough, you can take the world and make it your own. Just like you did before. Like I know you will again.” Sakura looks transfixed, large green eyes staring into his blue ones unblinkingly. “So, you have to grow up well, yeah, Sakura-chan?”

As though she can understand, the baby babbles and smiles, patting his cheek twice. Raijin smiles back, quick and fox-like in a way that has always made Sakura laugh and still does so now.

“I guess you weren’t kidding when you said babies really like you.”

He startles, having been so distracted by the miniature version of his best friend that he hadn’t noticed Mebuki’s return. She’s smiling, looking much more composed now than she did earlier. Her eyes are soft, trained on her daughter’s smiling face while Sakura tries to grab at the longer bits of Raijin’s hair though they remain stubbornly out of her reach.

Sure, he hasn’t had the chance to cut his hair in a while, but it still isn’t that long. Sorry, Sakura.

“I don’t know how you did it but thank you.” Mebuki shakes her head, looking a little wondrous. “She hasn’t calmed down all day, but you’d never think that looking at her now. You must be a natural.”

Raijin looks down to share a secretive smile with little Sakura. “I think Sakura-chan just knows she and I are meant to be best friends,” he confesses. “She’s a brilliant little thing.”

Mebuki sighs, holding her hands out to gently extract her child from his hold. She peers down at Sakura who mimics her expression and peers back. “She really is, isn’t she?” the woman murmurs. “Sometimes I don’t even know what to do with her.”

Gently reaching out to stroke at Sakura’s hair, Raijin says, “You just have to be there for her when she needs you.” He smiles, straightening out his shoulders, feeling a lot braver than a few moments ago now that he has had the best possible reminder of why he agreed to do the whole time-travel thing in the first place. “We simply have to do our part as best as we can until she grows up.”

Mebuki glances at him, a polite sort of puzzlement on her face. Raijin looks back at her, surer than he has been in months.

“She’s going to blow us all away someday, Haruno-san. Just you wait and watch.”

And Raijin is going to make sure Sakura gets to grow up safe in a village that will serve as the perfect foundation for her to grow up into the fierce young woman she was in his future.

Nodding to himself, he waves goodbye at the pink-haired baby before spinning on his heel and striding out of the waiting room. He has work to do, after all.

“Where is your brother, Hokage-sama?” Fugaku asks, a frigid façade of calm on his face.

Minato’s heart drops to his stomach like a stone. “He’s still in the village,” he says slowly, pulling on the threads of chakra that connect him to Raijin through their seal. There are multiple threads meaning shadow clones are at play, but at least the connection is active and close by. Thank Sage; he’d been convinced Raijin had been taken away again. “Can you not find him?”

A muscle in Fugaku’s jaw twitches. “I cannot,” he states, deadpan. “In fact, none of my officers seem to be able to locate him at all.”

“I see,” Minato says slowly. That is…not a good sign, admittedly. He keeps half a mind on the seal. Still in the village. Perhaps they’ve simply missed Raijin somehow. There can be a more innocent explanation for this. It doesn’t need to be something troubling. Still, Minato cannot convince himself enough to relax. “What did you need from him, Fugaku-dono?”

Exhaling sharply, Fugaku pulls out a scroll from his sleeve and extends it to Minato. It’s an official police report. Frowning, Minato takes and unrolls it, scanning over the neat script he recognises as Fugaku’s own handwriting.

“An hour and a half ago, we received Uchiha Shisui and Namikaze Raijin’s mission assignment scroll along with a scroll containing the bodies of six nukenin and five ROOT operatives,” Fugaku reports. “The nukenin have been cross-referenced from the bingo books. They belong to different villages and are all B-rank or above, including notorious S-rank nukenin from Takigakure, Kakuzu. The ROOT agents are still being identified.”

Minato stares at the scroll unseeingly. Two B-ranks, three A-ranks and one S-rank shinobi, and Raijin had not a scratch on him. That isn’t even counting the ROOT agents. “Raijin dropped these off?”

“His clone did,” Fugaku confirms. “It dispelled as soon as it submitted the evidence. We have been searching for Raijin-kun so he can be brought in for further questioning regarding the matter, but clearly haven’t had much luck.”

Eyebrow rising, Minato asks, “Not even with a sensor?”

“The kage bunshin jutsu is a rather…effective preventative measure to confuse sensors,” Fugaku admits, though he is clearly displeased by the fact.

Minato had suspected as much. “I can pinpoint the location of each clone, but I can’t tell which one he really is. I imagine your sensors ran into the same problem?”

Sighing, the Uchiha clan head nods. “I cannot tell if he is being purposely avoidant.”

“Why would he be?” Minato bites his lip in thought. “He was supposed to come see me right after receiving word on Uchiha Shisui’s condition." What is he doing?

Fugaku looks troubled as well now. “Shisui-kun is stable now. The poison was only a paralytic.” A shadow passes over his face as he regards Minato. “Speaking of which, I hope you are aware that I intend to pursue this investigation into Shimura Danzou’s actions to its fullest extent.”

“Yes, of course,” Minato assures.

Though he can’t help wonder why Raijin would go straight to the Police Force with the evidence instead of just coming to Minato like he was meant to. What is his brother playing at?

He opens his mouth to offer his ANBU’s assistance to Fugaku when he feels Raijin’s clones dispel, their connections to his seal severing in one neat go.

Minato’s blood runs cold.

Fugaku must guess something is wrong from the look on Minato’s face because he’s frowning in worry now too. “Hokage-sama?”

But Minato can’t hear him over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. All he can focus on is the seal and the threads of Minato’s chakra that reach through it and meet…nothing. Where Raijin’s chakra would be intertwined with his own lies a yawning void of cold empty nothingness. Minato feels nothing.

His breath leaves him in one go. He thinks he’s shaking. He can’t tell.

“Raijin is…he’s gone.”

Chapter Text

Raijin approaches his self-assigned mission with a carefully curated calm he hasn’t had to employ since the Fourth Great Shinobi War. There is a deep sense of finality that roots itself within him, filling his heart with a heavy weight he cannot shake off. He can’t afford the distraction right now, unfortunately. He’ll just have to cry about it later.

Solemnly, he gathers his most important belongings and stores them away into the various seals he has inked on himself. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth to do so, but Raijin needs to be prepared for everything, and that includes potentially needing to flee Konoha at a moment’s notice.

By tonight, he will have assassinated a village elder and decorated veteran. It will make him a fugitive regardless of how much Danzou deserves it, and Raijin has no interest in spending the rest of his life in a cell, punished and expected to repent for a crime he could never come to regret. So, yeah, he’s prepared to become a missing nin if that’s what it takes.

It will simply be another price he has had to pay for the sake of bringing about a peace he can be proud of.

As for his brother…Well, Minato is Hokage now. He has big responsibilities to shoulder as it is. Raijin doesn’t want to make things unnecessarily hard for him if he can help it. Besides, with such little insight on his father’s personality from the future, Raijin can’t tell which course of action Minato might take—the one where he futilely tries to help Raijin despite what he is about to do, or the one where he sides with his duty as he is expected to and delivers Raijin’s sentence regardless of how he might feel about it.

Things would be easier for all of them if Raijin just leaves of his own accord.

Besides, baby Naruto is on his way now and, this time, there will be no Kyuubi attack that will take his parents from him. Things will fall into place for the Uzumaki-Namikaze family as they always should have. Kakashi will still have Obito and Rin’s friendship. Itachi will have his family and be able to help his little brother grow. Everything will be fine.

Raijin just has to do his duty to make sure everything goes right for the people he loves.

He made a promise to himself, after all, and Raijin has always kept his word. He will not fail here.

He has some clones track a few on-duty ROOT agents whose uniforms he could steal for the sake of his infiltration. While Raijin’s usual approach is just to go all in right from the start, his hastily thrown together plan kind of requires a bit of subtlety at first.

So, some minor identity theft in the cards there but it’s hardly going to be the worst crime he will commit today. They might even look it over entirely in favour of all the other bullshit he’s about to pull.

In the meantime, he puts the finishing touches on a seal that he has been working on since January—a counter to Minato’s gift. It isn’t a particularly difficult solution to come up with since Minato’s finished seal serves as an excellent foundation for him to build off; it’s just one that he has been putting off purely because of how guilty it makes him feel to tamper with something his elder brother put so much time and though into. But it can’t be helped. Minato would wonder what Raijin is doing in the ROOT headquarters and he could literally teleport there within seconds to find out for himself, thereby throwing all of Raijin’s plans into disarray.

He can’t let anyone interrupt until Shimura Danzou is dealt with.

And after that…Raijin supposes he will find out.

Operation: Curb Stomp Danzou to Death consists of several moving parts that would ordinarily require the participation of multiple highly skilled shinobi. Luckily for Raijin, he’s a functional one-man army thanks to his favourite forbidden jutsu.

He has his clones make a ruckus right outside the gated entrance to ROOT and sneaks in when the guards have materialised to investigate the source of the disturbance. As soon as he slips in, he activates the modifications he has laid over Minato’s seal, cutting off his brother from his location in the same breath that he fixes the mask over his face.

A fox, because apparently his clones have a dark sense of humour.

Allowing himself to melt into the shadows, Raijin creeps along the walls of the dark cavern that eventually opens into a wide circular chamber. Including the pathway Raijin took, there are four exits leading out of the chamber. This and the floor directly above it seem to be the only two above ground floors of the headquarters. Raijin peers over the railing and grimaces at the seven floors below.

The whole place is terribly industrial looking with its stone walls, wooden platforms and metal pipes and beams. Figures that Danzou would favour such depressing interior design; no wonder he’s so fucking miserable all the time.

Now, if only Raijin knew where to find the old fart…

Humming, he forms a one-handed seal and forms five more clones. He’s sure someone is going to notice the multiple identical chakra signatures that no one recognises from ROOT agent Fox soon enough, so they’ll have to make this quick.

“Two of you, go find the kids,” he instructs in an urgent whisper, looking at their masked faces. “The other three get ready to make sure to hold off our target’s backup. The others will join soon, so have them help you out. I’m counting on you guys.”

“You got it, Boss!”

One of the clones raises its hand. “How do you want us to hold them off? Are we fighting them?”

Raijin shrugs. “Sure, if that’s what you want, but I don't want any unnecessary casualties. I don’t care how you do it so long as you succeed. Make it good, yeah?”

The clones seem to exchange glances, though how they’re doing it through the nondescript masks is lost on him. Which is kind of weird considering his clones are extensions of him, so nothing they’re privy to should be lost on him at all, but what does Raijin know. Finally, they nod.

“Sure thing, Boss.”

They say it in that tone of voice Raijin knows he himself uses when he’s planning a prank that would trigger law enforcement somehow, but considering that is kind of the mission objective, he doesn’t call them out on it. So long as it buys him enough time, he won’t complain.

He nods at his clones. “Let’s get to work then.”

And so, they do.

It’s starts out as a normal day at work for Boar.

Sure, his colleagues are weird and don’t say much outside of mission commands and reports, but he’s learning that this is usual for ROOT. There are a couple other new initiates like him around who are just as baffled and intimidated by their seniors, but they’re all trying to fit in as best as they can. The faster they adjust, the better they’ll start performing during missions.

And Boar is determined to make this ROOT thing work so he can rub it in Shiranui Genma’s face for ever doubting that Boar belongs in Councilman Shimura’s organisation. He’s a part of the most exclusive faction of ANBU who are considered elites as it is. It’s not some fluke. It proves that Boar is good at what he does if someone as skilled and smart as Shimura Danzou thinks he has value.

So, yeah, it starts out as a normal day at work. He goes in, finishes his guard duty shift and decides to explore all the training facilities their headquarters boasts.

And then, out of nowhere, he nearly gets run over by a mini tornado of menacingly swirling hot pink glitter that whizzes past him in the corridor at what must be the speed of sound, spewing blindingly sparkly confetti and cat stickers as it carries on down its warpath.

Boar stares from where he is flattened against the wall, heart beating in his throat and uniform winking with specks of glitter under the low light of the hallway. Distantly, he hears screaming from the direction the tornado went in. The walls look like a toddler’s fever dream threw up all over them.

He thinks he’s shaking.

“What the fuck,” he pronounces, voice cracking.

It only gets weirder from there.

He decides that maybe the Sparkly Tornado of Doom is a sign from the higher powers to leave testing out the training facilities to another day, so he heads back the way he came from.

Boar wishes he’d just gone home instead.

The central chamber is in disarray when he gets there. Boar has to pause and physically gape at the state of complete chaos and confusion as his fellow ROOT agents run around like a bunch of headless chickens, their notorious composure nowhere to be seen.

There are shinobi dangling in nets from the ceiling while others work on getting them down, though it appears as though no amount of blades or jutsu are helping. It looks like someone set off a paint bomb in the middle of the room judging by the massive obnoxious green splatters covering much of the floor, walls and quite a few disgruntled agents. Everything is glittering ominously. Boar doesn’t think he has ever seen this much colour in the headquarters.

“We’re under attack,” Jaguar summarises grimly, leaping down to land beside him and take in the scene.

Boar goes to reply when he is cut off by another distant explosion. Far away, someone screams, “It’s moving! The slime is—!” The rest of the distressed cry dissolves into a muffled shout and then there is only a threatening sort of rumble.

“Did they just…die?” Boar asks, horrified.

Jaguar’s mask should make him unreadable, but he radiates such a grievous air that it’s impossible to miss. “We’re under attack,” he repeats. “The entire building has turned into one massive trap waiting to be triggered. Nowhere is safe.”

Boar realises once again with a sinking feeling in his chest that he should have just gone home. “Who could be responsible?” he wonders. “Have we found no one?”

“Not a trace so far,” Jaguar confirms, shaking his head. “No one has been able to navigate the traps safely. Panda is our best tracker and he’s still lost in the maze of mirrors in the fourth-floor corridor.”

“Maze of mirrors,” Boar echoes because it needs to be said for it to feel real. “How did someone manage to get in and set all this up without anyone even noticing?”

Jaguar sighs and turns back to examine the central chamber, line of sight lingering upon the glow-in-the-dark graffiti on the stone walls featuring a caricature of some sort of…plant monster? “Almost as though we are being haunted.”

And doesn’t that just sound horrifying. Boar gulps and studies the frantic shinobi who are trapped in the nets. “Has anyone informed Shimura-sama yet?”

“I’m not sure,” Jaguar admits slowly, “although all of this is rather hard to miss. I’m sure he knows.”

“Well, if anyone can help us get rid of this so-called ghost, it has to be him, right?”

Jaguar is silent for just long enough that Boar’s heart drops like a rock to his stomach. “I sure hope so,” he says finally.

In the distance, someone yells out, “TORNADO!”

Inuzuka Naomi—or Recruit 6735 as she is usually referred to these days—can say with utmost surety that she hates her new home.

She doesn’t know why her clan head and pack leader gave her away; if it is indeed a reward for Naomi’s capability like her trainers tell her or if she is actually being punished for some reason. Whatever the case, she is willing to march to Tsume right now and apologise for everything if that’s what it takes for to be allowed back home again. She wants to see the compound again, with its many furs and freely given cuddles to keep her warm, where they are allowed to play outside to their hearts’ content and there is always delicious food to go around.

The compound that is nothing like ROOT’s cold stone walls and dark, oppressively silent hallways, where everyone moves like a wraith and acts like puppets with invisible strings.

They want her to be like them, she knows. All the other kids have been told as much too. On their first day, they are all warned to forget the life they led before becoming one of ROOT’s shadows because, from that point on, they are expected to act like proper shinobi worthy of protecting Konoha no matter the cost. There is no more comfort or softness; no more playing, laughing or wasting time.

Naomi has always wanted to be a kunoichi like her mother, but she rethinks this ambition now if this is what it’s actually cut out to be.

The routine of it all is so unbearably mind numbing that she can’t imagine doing this for even a week more, let alone the rest of her life. They are woken up at 6:30 am every day, marched into breakfast and then training, lunch, more training, break, training, dinner, shower and then it’s lights out. There is no deviation, and any rebellion is met with swift punishment.

Naomi has resigned herself to biting her tongue and keeping her head down. If this is her only choice now, all she can do is her best to survive it. There are a few older recruits who look out for them sometimes—kids who have already forgotten their names because their trainers punish them for using anything other than their assigned numbers. Naomi knows with a sinking sense of dread that it is only a matter of time before she becomes like them too.

And then, suddenly, that dreaded routine sees itself derailed on a day that starts out like any other.

They are in the training hall for their evening lesson on weapon handling when the usually deathly still building erupts into loud noises that echo even in their soundproofed hall. The recruits look to the trainers in confusion, but it becomes obvious that their instructors hold no more answers than they do for they immediately assume defensive positions.

Naomi readjusts her grip on the kunai in her hand too, falling into a ready stance. For their instructors to be reacting this way, she’s sure something is wrong. A fight is likely to ensue.

And ensue it does. They wait with baited breath as the noise outside dies into a tense silence. The air is charged with the ozone-like smell of anticipation; it makes her nose twitch. Without warning, the silence is shattered by the doors to the training hall being blasted open, giving way to wafts of thick smoke that billow in and fill the room with an unnatural speed.

Everything dissolves into panic as her fellow recruits yell out in the confusion, bumping into one another and falling into scuffles as everyone becomes a potential enemy with their vision so thoroughly impaired by the smoke. The trainers call for order, but their reprimands fall on deaf ears. It’s a lawless free-for-all if no one can see.

Naomi hisses as she is roughly bumped into, stumbling over her own feet because of the force. She squints through the smoke, realising abruptly that it has to be artificial because it doesn’t irritate her eyes or nose at all. In fact, it smells vaguely of strawberries. How oddly…considerate?

A hand closes around her shoulder and Naomi yelps, kicking out blindly to try and dislodge whoever is trying to grab her. “Let go!” she warns. “I’ll bite you, I swear I will.”

“Uh, no, please don’t,” says the owner of the hand on her shoulder. They actually emote through their voice so she rules out the possibility of her biting one of her instructors. That means she’s being kidnapped, like, right now.

Naomi snarls and turns her head to try and sink her teeth into the hand, struggling viciously.

“Hey! Can you hold still for a second, dude?”

What kind of kidnapper calls the child they’re trying to abduct ‘dude’?

There’s a shift in the grip and Naomi yells out in surprise as she’s lifted clean into the air by the armpits. A ROOT mask greets her through the wisps of thick smoke. She tries to kick her holder in the throat and he yelps and leans back.

“I’m trying to break you guys out of here,” he complains. “Is a little cooperation too much to ask for?”

That has her stilling out sheer incredulity. “You’re here to…break us out?”

The kidnapper sniffs. “Hardly any of your guardians know you’re here, you know. This is all seriously illegal.”

“And you’re doing this jailbreak by yourself?” So, this idiot is running a jeopardised operation and he’s going to doom them all. Hell no. Naomi starts struggling again.

“Technically, yes, but—” He hisses. “Stop squirming! I’m a clone! You’re going to dispel me at this rate.”

“A clone?” she repeats, scowling. “What kind of clone is this solid?”

“One from a very forbidden jutsu,” comes the helpful answer.

Naomi isn’t convinced. She’d cross her arms if she could. “And whose clone are you supposed to be?”

A beat of silence. Then a tentatively offered, “You can take a peek beneath the mask if that will convince you faster, because we really have to get a move on.”

She blinks. Admittedly, she hadn’t expected the cooperation, but she isn’t about to question it. Striking out before the offer is revoked, she snatches the mask away.

Electric blue eyes blink back at her, a shock of sunshine hair peeking out from underneath the hood the man is wearing. Naomi gapes. “You’re the Hokage’s brother.”

“And I’m doing several illegal things to try and rescue you guys, so can we please get a move on now?”

Going limp, she nods dumbly. Namikaze Raijin shifts to hold her in one arm, using his free hand to fix the mask back in place before letting out a sharp sustained whistle. The noise in the room picks up, metallic clangs being a telltale sign of an ongoing battle somewhere. Raijin looks unbothered by it all, turning to Naomi. Somehow, though she cannot see his face, she gets the impression that he is smiling at her.

“Help me gather your friends?” he asks.

She thinks about correcting him and saying that there are no friends in ROOT. Would that get him to leave the room faster so they can get out of the headquarters that much quicker? But Naomi thinks about some of the older recruits, kids both older and younger than her who remember only their numbers and have no names or identity to speak of. She swallows.

Closing her fist around Raijin’s standard issue cloak, Naomi takes a deep breath and nods. “I’ll help.”

“There are reports of an attack on the ROOT headquarters,” ANBU Commander Takigawa Kanato says as soon as Minato grants him entry into his office. “All available ROOT agents were called in to help deal with it. The activity began roughly two hours ago. No one has been spotted leaving yet. There are reports of the noise of explosions and general struggle. We have received no official word from them despite several attempts at communication. A barrier seal warding the headquarters off is suspected since none of my shinobi have managed to gain entry.”

Minato can feel Fugaku’s eyes burning into him, but he does not meet the man’s gaze. There is no doubt about what the Uchiha clan head suspects, though it is a kindness that he doesn’t ask any difficult questions in front of the ANBU Commander.

Closing his eyes, Minato allows himself five seconds to just breathe.

The things he knows: Shimura Danzou openly sabotaged Raijin and Shisui’s mission; Raijin was emotionally unstable last Minato saw him; Raijin dropped off evidence that could be used to convict Danzou of aforementioned sabotage with the Police Force; Minato’s seal on his brother has been rendered ineffective due to reasons that are yet unknown and inconclusive; His brother refuses to share any useful details pertaining to his past; ROOT is currently under a barrier and potentially weathering an attack that no one has managed to walk away from yet; Raijin is perfectly capable of holding out against hundreds of shinobi by himself for hours.

He exhales and opens his eyes, methodically reciting these facts to himself until he has entered a state of mission-ready calm. Alright. Minato has a job to do.

“Gather your forces and meet me at the entrance to ROOT headquarters in fifteen minutes,” he instructs.

Fugaku frowns slightly. “You will go personally, Hokage-sama?”

“If no one in ANBU has managed to gain entry yet, my help with the fuuinjutsu will likely be needed,” Minato explains. “I’d like you to gather a team of eight of your own, Fugaku-dono. I suspect an arrest awaits.”

Fugaku’s gaze is unreadable and penetrative, but Minato meets it unflinchingly. He knows very well what possibility lies ahead. He will not shy away from doing what is required of him.

Regardless of what happens, Minato will face it head on.

“Sir, we have found the intruder.”

Danzou exhales sharply and nods. “Bring them to me,” he instructs, voice cold.

There is the creaking of his office door opening, and shuffling as the trespasser who has dared to wreak such havoc in ROOT’s headquarters is brought in. Danzou turns around, glare fixed in place.

“Take the mask off,” he orders. His shinobi comply, ripping off the hood and stolen Fox mask. Danzou freezes as he greeted by a very familiar face. “Namikaze Raijin.”

The boy has the audacity to grin at him, his body language perfectly at ease. “Hello, Councilman Shimura.”

Gritting his teeth, he regards the insolent brat with a look of open disdain. “Do you think you will get away with this simply because of that brother of yours?” he asks, keeping his voice low. He will not lose control over the childish pranks of some—

“I don’t,” Raijin replies, inclining his head, dimples showing as he smiles. “But somehow I get the feeling I’m not going to get into too much trouble for doing free community service and taking out the trash.”

Without his needing to say it, Sparrow smacks the blond. Danzou watches impassive as Raijin’s head snaps to the side with the force of the hit. “I don’t tolerate such disrespect, boy.”

Raijin licks at the blood from his split lip and grins, something wicked in his eye as the skin knits back together before Danzou’s very eyes. “Good,” the boy says viciously.

“Curious,” Danzou voices. That healing factor could come of great use. He tilts his head and considers the Namikaze. Raijin might indeed be a lost cause, but Danzou has ways of taming such disobedience. Uchiha Kagami’s gift has served him well all this time; it will come in handy once again it seems. Perhaps Danzou will turn Raijin into one of his own and hide him until he can pit the boy against their honourable Hokage. He is sure Minato’s face will be worth the effort. “Do you understand the position you are in, Raijin-kun?”

“I have the feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

Another smack. Danzou hums.

“You have broken into the headquarters of one of the black op organisations of a village you are not native to,” he states. “You have staged a wide-scale assault here. Are you aware that you could be charged with treason? Not even the Hokage’s influence would save you, you know.”

Raijin’s countenance betrays no panic. He only lifts his chin and meets Danzou’s eye. “You’re pretty confident no one is going to find out about all your little illegal activities here, Danzou-sama. The children you have stolen. The sabotage and assassinations you have ordered. The experiments you have run. You think you will get away with all of it?”

Ah. Danzou cannot help but chuckle. How terribly naïve. That too will need to be fixed. “Everything I have done has been for the betterment of this village, Raijin-kun,” he says, folding his hands together. “Not that it matters. You seem to see yourself as some sort of ‘hero’ who will receive some great reward for bringing me to ‘justice’. Real life is not some sort of fairytale, boy. I have had to make some difficult choices, but I have always done that which needed to be done. I am not some villain, and you certainly are no hero.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?” Raijin’s voice is saccharine and dripping with mockery. “I think it’s laughable that you’re accusing me of committing treason even knowing exactly what you have done.” His gaze sharpens, lips pulled back into a smile that looks more like a baring of teeth. “After all, in Konoha, there is no greater offender than a bloodline thief.”

Danzou stills. “Be careful the things you speak,” he spits out. Sparrow, dutiful as ever, goes for Raijin’s ribs next.

The boy grins even through the wheeze that escapes him. “What—you gonna deny it?” he teases. “I know exactly what’s under all those bandages, old man. Bet the Uchiha would just love to find out too. Maybe I should just go tell them.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Danzou snaps back, heart thundering in his ears. How on earth did Namikaze Raijin find out? He has told no one. Not one person knows. Danzou personally ensured that no potential leaks would be left. And yet. “You are outnumbered, your chakra is bound, you are entirely at my mercy, and I am not a merciful man, Raijin-kun.”

At this, Raijin rolls his eyes. “Oh, please, like I didn’t let these losers catch me,” he drawls. “I figured it’d be the easiest way to get to your office. Looking for you seemed like a waste of time.” As he speaks, the chakra inhibitor seals wrapped around his wrists and throat begin to glow, first with a blinding blue and then with an angry scarlet.

Danzou stares. “What are you doing?” he demands, alarm bells going off in his head.

Raijin grins back languidly. “Did you know, Danzou-sama? These seals are only designed with regular chakra reserves in mind. The Uzumaki pioneered the design that Konoha uses so these ones can even handle their particularly large reserves.” The blazing red hue of the seals darkens to the colour of blood and the seals start smoking, paper beginning to wither away. There is something feral in the gleam of the blond’s eyes.

“Knock him out,” Danzou snarls. “Quickly, before he can go through with whatever he has planned!”

His shinobi go to do as asked, well-trained as they are, aiming to knock Raijin out by force. Before their attacks can connect, however, the shroud of potent red chakra that is beginning to envelope the blond pulses and lashes out. Sparrow cries out wordlessly as the smell of burning flesh fills the air, stumbling away reflexively. Raven too is retreating, ripping her gloves off to reveal singed skin underneath.

The last of the seals seem to burn right off Raijin and the boy straightens, rolling his shoulders almost lazily. The shroud of red covering him bleeds into a molten golden that makes him look like he is aflame. He blinks his large eyes with feigned innocence, the usual blue in them having become a vivid scarlet with slitted pupils.

“What did you do?” Danzou demands, hissing, tossing his cane away and reaching for the sword strapped to his waist instead. “Who are you?!”

“It’s so funny,” Raijin muses out loud. “No one ever seems to account for jinchuuriki.”

Danzou’s eye widens. “No,” he breathes. All the jinchuuriki are accounted for; there’s no way they missed one. “It’s impossible.”

And yet, as Raijin’s killing intent leaks into the air, his chakra unfurls and settles over everything, crushing in its weight and suffocating in its wrath, and there is no mistaking the sulfuric notes of a tailed beast’s chakra leaking through.

“You were wrong, you see, Danzou-sama,” Raijin comments. Raven tries to throw herself at him if only in an attempt to dissuade him, but Raijin waves his hand and sends her flying into the wall with pure and shapeless wind chakra alone.

Everything is falling into place now. The healing factor, the reports of powerful jutsu that never seemed to tire the blond out, the many enemies he can fight by simply outlasting them, the endless fucking clones. Danzou bets that’s how the boy managed to so successfully turn the entirety of the headquarter on its head. He isn’t outnumbered at all, and if the reports of just how much chakra jinchuuriki have to spare are true, then he will never be outnumbered either.

A one-man army and he has come right to Danzou’s front door.

“You are the one at my mercy,” Raijin says, his voice a dangerous whisper. His eyes are cold, lips pulled into an almost animalistic snarl. If Danzou were religious, he would think some god of retribution himself had come for him. “And I have no mercy to spare for the likes of you, Shimura Danzou.”

Sneaking out of an organisation full of some of the village’s most well-trained shinobi at their most paranoid is easier said than done. Especially when considering that the party trying to sneak out consists of roughly thirty-something terrified children between the ages of four and thirteen.

“This is a lot harder than I thought it would be,” Raijin’s clone mutters.

Hand clasped in his, Naomi looks up at him in disbelief. “You can’t say that,” she hisses. “You’re the one who told us you’d help get us out of here.”

“And I will,” he assures her. “Just the subtlety thing—I’m not used to it for stuff like this. I usually brute force my way out of situations when it gets this tough.”

Her eyes narrow. “And why is it this tough?”

The explosion of paint or glitter in almost every other hallway they’ve passed has been more than telling enough.

Raijin chuckles awkwardly and avoids her accusatory glare. “I wonder,” he tries to play off.

One of the other clones chooses this moment to pipe up, “Boss is probably going to get to business right about now.”

As if in confirmation, a loud bang resounds through the entire building, shaking the structure seemingly down to its very foundations. Following it is a massive wave of chakra that washes over everything indiscriminately, filling the air with the force of its presence and pressing down until it becomes hard to breathe. It is unlike anything Naomi has ever felt before—filled with rage and hurt so potent, she wonders how anyone could stand to feel so much. It burns in her nose and her lungs, making her cough painfully while she tries to gasp for air that won’t come.

There is a hand at her back, warm and soothing. The heavy chakra lifts slightly, batted away by a lighter presence that is the same but different in its power where it tries to wrap around Naomi like a blanket.

“It’s alright,” Raijin soothes. “I’m sorry about that. You’ll be fine. Just try to keep breathing through it.”

“What the hell is that?” one of the older kids, who Naomi only knows as 4718, demands. Her voice is full of anger, but her face is devoid of all colour and her eyes are wild with a primal fear that Naomi can relate to.

The clones all grimace. “It’s going to get too risky for us to keep moving around like this,” one of them says while the others nod. “We’re better off waiting this out.”

“But what is ‘this’ supposed to be?” presses another kid—an Aburame by the looks of it.

The Raijins exchange glances. The one holding Naomi’s hand bluntly says, “Shimura Danzou will not be left alive for much longer. Do you know a place we can hide until then?”

There is silence for a long moment. Naomi looks blankly at her fellow recruits, just as lost. Shimura Danzou—dead? It is almost incomprehensible.

Finally, 4718 sets her face grimly. “The basement,” she says. One of the other older kids sucks in a sharp breath but 4718 does not waver. “Only Danzou-sama and those he approves are permitted entry and exit. It’s the most defensible place here. I’ve never been inside but I know where it is. The whole thing is locked with seals, but you’re supposed to be a master, right?”

The clones nod. “Sure,” one of them agrees.

“What about the guards?” a Sarutobi boy points out.

“Leave them to us,” Raijin says. “I think it’s time for our final weapon.”

“What is it?” Naomi asks warily. The blond seems to have all sorts of convoluted ideas for what counts as a weapon, she has begun to realise.

The clone holding her hand grins wickedly. Naomi is suddenly struck by the memory of one of those kitsune masks in the festivals. She blinks.

“It’s time,” he starts ominously, “to release the bees.”

It feels dangerously good to let loose and finally stop holding back after nearly a full year of policing his own strength for the sake of his cover.

Raijin lets his chakra swell and settle within his coils with its full presence, the Kyuubi present close to the front of his mind as he enters Kurama Mode and burns right through the flimsy chakra inhibitors, their manic glee at the freedom feeding into each other’s until there is one linear thought between them: destroy.

Danzou’s personal guards materialise from the shadows as soon as the elder unsheathes his sword in a clear signal to treat Raijin as a high-priority threat. One of them leaps out at him, tanto gleaming under the dim fluorescent lighting.

Raijin meets the tanto with a chakra blade of his own, its metal reinforced with wind chakra, and forces the agent’s arm upward before striking with a decisive punch. He knows the effect Kurama’s chakra has on human opponents when Raijin is like this; every hit hurts thrice as much with the combination of the Kyuubi’s natural chakra signature and how it reinforces Raijin’s own strength. He feels the agent’s ribs crack under his knuckles and he spins, using his momentum to haul them over his shoulder, intentionally slamming into the fractured ribs as he throws them to the floor.

Recognising that single attacks will be ineffective, the others spread out into a formation, aiming to surround him.

Kurama scoffs in his mind. ‘Adorable,’ he drawls sarcastically.

Raijin grins in agreement. He is met with a wave of shuriken, the agents using the flurry as a distraction to mask the immediate follow-up attack. Raijin leaps back, dodging most of the weapons and waving the rest away with a lazy gust of wind. Behind the agents’ formation, Danzou is opening a secret tunnel, clearly looking to slip away while Raijin is occupied.

Now that just won’t do. Raijin went through all this effort to kick the old man’s ass; he should at least have the decency to not run away.

Absently forming the signs for an earth jutsu, Raijin slams his palm to the ground and leaps away just in time for the entire floor to give away underneath the ROOT shinobi’s feet, swallowing most of them into the fissure underneath. The few that do manage to react in time are too occupied to see him coming. They join their colleagues shortly.

Raijin leaps over the cavity, lips pulling into a grin that is just a touch too wide as he shapes one of the more destructive jutsu in his arsenal, starting with a fire release that he immediately augments with a wind release that is designed to be a less destructive variant of the rasengan. The resultant explosion slams right into the wall hiding the secret tunnel and immediately blows most of it away.

So what if he collapses a tunnel or two? He’s finally starting to have some fun after all.

Raijin waves the smoke and debris away, striding into the destruction. “Oh, Danzou-sama,” he calls out, tone lilting. “Come on, don’t just leave me hanging here. I thought you and I were going to hang out. I have a feeling we’re going to get along swimmingly.”

The telltale sound of shifting earth is his only answer and Raijin sighs. So, Danzou used an earth jutsu to get away. Man, the old bastard really is like a cockroach.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Raijin sings.

Stillness for a moment. And then the ground gives out in front of him, Danzou leaping out, sword raised and fury on his face. A sharingan spins in the eye that he usually keeps covered. He must be desperate if he’s revealing it now despite the undoubted drain it will have on his chakra reserves.

Raijin laughs and lifts his own chakra blade, parrying Danzou’s strike. His kenjutsu has never been the best, so Raijin compensates by judicious use of ninjutsu to force Danzou into a state of split focus, keeping the man on the defensive. Danzou tries to lead him further down the tunnel that leads to the basement level of the headquarters, but Raijin refuses to play along.

Instead, he presses in close and pushes Danzou to exit the tunnels, both of them bursting out into a hallway and shattering the mirrors in the maze that Raijin’s trusty clones managed to set up out of sheer force of will and a love for causing mayhem. Out of the tunnel and less afraid of structural damage that might accidentally bring down the entire mountain now that they’re in a more open space, Raijin gleefully starts shaping a rasengan.

The jutsu rips through the corridor, Danzou just about managing to avoid the brunt of it by diving out of the way in the nick of time. Raijin pouts and leaps out at the man before he can quite recover, using the destruction and debris his misfired rasengan caused to his advantage.

Danzou triggers Izanagi, reappearing at a distance behind him unleashing a wind bullet jutsu. Raijin groans in disappointment and leaps away, dodging. Maybe he should stop playing around and finally get serious.

“Alright, old man,” he sighs. “No more fun and games. It’s go time.”

“You will regret this, boy,” Danzou spits back, already fleeing down the hall.

Freed from the maze, there are more agents stumbling around to cover his attempted escape. Raijin rolls his eyes.

He pursues.

The barrier erected around ROOT’s headquarters is a particularly sophisticated piece of work that absorbs whatever chakra is thrown at it and converts it to use as fuel for itself. The more someone tries to damage it using ninjutsu, the stronger it gets.

Undoubtedly, it is Raijin’s work.

Minato struggles to keep the frown off his face as he works on a seal he could overlay over a patch of the barrier to allow them just enough room to slip through. Ideally, he could directly sabotage the key powering the barrier, but there’s no telling where that chink in the armour might be for a barrier this massive. He’s better off trying to thin the barricade enough to tear a small hole through.

It's a stroke of luck that he is familiar enough with Raijin’s sealing hand that he can guess the arrays his brother might have used enough to counter them to a degree. Minato just never thought he would ever need to be doing this.

Grimly, he carefully sets his own loophole in place on the ground and carefully feeds a tendril of chakra into it, watching as the threads of chakra spread out in a web from the chakra paper, first crawling upon the ground and then spreading up, revealing the shimmering ultraviolet surface of a rippling barrier that stretches out beyond their line of sight.

“By Amaterasu’s light, I’ve never seen anything like this.” Fugaku’s notorious imperceptibility is nowhere to be found as he openly gapes up at the barrier that stretches over their heads.

Minato swallows. “The only barrier I’ve seen of a bigger scale is the one installed for the village’s defence.” That one has multiple keys and uses a complicated formula to power itself using nature chakra. He cannot sense any hint of senjutsu here though. Is Raijin powering this by himself then? Just how much chakra does he have?

Before them, the web of chakra from Minato’s seal stops spiralling outwards. For a moment, it is as though everything is suspended in time, and then the patch of the barrier that is covered by Minato’s loophole fractures, dissipating as though it is made of mist.

“Let’s go,” Minato orders, steeling his heart and stepping through, preparing himself mentally for the worst.

And yet, the headquarters look like nothing he could have imagined. Minato falters, blinking. There is drying paint on the wooden ramps, neon graffiti on the walls, scrambling ROOT shinobi trying to free their colleagues from nets hanging twenty feet off the ground. Every surface seems to have glitter and cat stickers on it for some reason.

“Hokage-sama!” one of the Root agents—Boar from the looks of his mask—yelps upon noticing who has arrived in the central chamber. “Oh, thank the heavens you’re here. I thought I’d never be free.”

From behind him, the ANBU shinobi spread out and immediately get to work, taking stock of what has happened and trying to rescue the trapped ROOT ninja. Meanwhile, the Uchiha take inventory, recording everything with gleaming sharingan.

“Tell me exactly what happened here,” Minato orders, addressing Boar.

As though he had been waiting to be asked, Boar immediately starts rambling, “Everything was totally normal at first, but then, out of nowhere, there was this pink tornado in the halls, right? I barely managed to avoid it and I came here to see if anyone was doing anything to contain it but then this place is an even bigger mess, and Jaguar said there’s a maze of mirrors somewhere and someone was screaming about slime.” Gesturing wildly with his hands, Boar emphasises, “It’s absolute madness here, sir! No one could get out and the weirdest stuff just kept happening, and I don’t even know if they’ve found who is responsible yet. Jaguar went to go see what the others are up to so we could rally and, like, fight back or something but then he never came back. A couple others that tried to leave just came back and they keep saying something about bees but, honestly, I have no idea what they’re on about, but they’re all refusing to leave again so now we’re all just stuck here, biding time.”

Minato blinks, trying to process all of that at once. Tornado, mirrors, missing shinobi, bees(?), and traumatised ROOT agents. Okay. “Anything else?” he asks.

Boar hesitates. “There was this massive wave of chakra twelve minutes ago. It felt like killing intent. We’ve felt a few tremors since. I think it might be a large-scale fight.”

Frowning, the Hokage nods. “Right. Well, we’ll have to split up and find out.”

It has been a long time since Danzou has felt fear for his life like this.

He had thought there would be no reason to worry at first. The brat might be a jinchuuriki, but Danzou has ten sharingan at his disposal and a lifetime of experience. The battle would be difficult, yes, but Danzou has survived everything that has posed an obstacle in his path for over fifty years now. He refuses to be stopped today by some greenhorn child with delusions of grandeur.

But Namikaze Raijin proves himself to be a methodical predator, showing off a level of strength that not even Danzou could have ever hoped to account for.

He pursues relentlessly, ripping through everything in his path with no more than a passing glance, throwing around jutsu powered with so much chakra that the air remains charged with the smell of ozone and salt even after. Most of the damage he suffers is healed too quickly for it to take enough effect that it might disadvantage him.

On the other hand, every trick in Danzou’s arsenal is pulled and it’s all he can do just to stay alive. He is forced to rely on Izanagi as a crutch, blowing through the sharingan he has acquired through great effort over the years. That isn’t even beginning to cover the drain on his reserves from the cursed eyes. He has only just managed to exercise tenuous control over the Shodaime’s cells in his arm, though he can feel how mokuton tries to rip right out of his skin now that he doesn’t have the seals and gauntlets helping him keep it under control.

Not even kotoamatsukami helps him despite never having failed before. It only manages to ensnare Raijin for half a minute at most before the genjutsu is shaken off, and even in that brief window, Danzou cannot get close enough because it is as though the chakra shroud surrounding the boy has a mind of its own. It corrodes any blade Danzou takes to it and lashes out if he gets too close.

They are in the level below the main chamber now and Danzou knows that if just manages to make it up this one floor, he will have his loyal shinobi at his aid once more. But he can no longer be sure if even they would do any good. None have managed to stand in Raijin’s way for long enough before. And that is only if he manages to make it that far anyway. His options are looking slim.

The dust and smoke from Danzou’s last wind jutsu are still wafting in the air but Raijin’s chakra coated blade cuts through them, a blazing blue that contrasts his golden shroud as he steps through the haze.

“Decided to stop running, have you?” he asks, tilting his head and smiling sardonically.

Danzou grits his teeth and lowers his stance. The humiliation churns in his gut and burns on his skin. His reserves are running worryingly low, but he still scrapes together the chakra, painstakingly moulding it into shape.

“You will not get away with this,” he promises, seething. “There will be no walking away from what you have done. You will not get your life back.”

Something sad passes over Raijin’s face. “I know,” he says, “but I will have finished what I started. A new future will be worth the sacrifice.”

So that’s how it will be. Then he will endeavour to take his enemy down with him at the very least.

Grimly, Danzou presses his fingers into the hand seals. “Fuuton: Vacuum Wave.”

Raijin counters, “Fuuton: Rasenshuriken.”

It is as though the entire world is screaming in the aftermath, the winds howling in Danzou’s ear and threatening to sweep him away. He tries to leap out of the fray, almost blind with the debris and smoke still filling the air, but it is no use and a part of him knows this already. The jutsu follows him—a massive shuriken made of volatile wind chakra—and he knows that this is the end.

Everything is too loud and then all at once, there is nothing. The world is quiet. He is weightless. Floating.

Belatedly, he realises he can see his own body falling, headless. ‘Ah,’ he thinks, ‘so this is how it feels.’

And then he is no more.

Shimura Danzou is dead.

Chapter Text

As soon as they hear the telltale sounds of a battle making its way to the floor below them, Minato is off like a shot, uncaring of if anyone manages to keep up with him as he triggers a shunshin and disappears in a blur of yellow and white. He comes upon triggered traps and barely falters at the possibility of untriggered ones lying in wait as he pulls out one of his three-pronged kunai and throws it to the opposite end of the corridor.

Teleporting to the anchor, Minato snatches the kunai out of the air and presses on, leaping over wrecked passages and blowing right past disoriented ROOT agents. Most of them sport injuries of varies degrees of seriousness, he notes, but he has yet to spot any dead bodies lying around despite all the destruction and heavily chakra-charged air. Clearly powerful jutsu have been thrown around here and yet there appear to be no fatalities so far.

The screaming of harsh wind torrents fills the stillness of the headquarters and Minato grits his teeth past the noise, changing course sharply to follow it to its source. It is followed by a resounding bang that shakes the entire building, causing dust and debris to rain down from the ceiling, threatening an impending collapse if the fight continues to test its structural integrity. It rings in Minato’s ears, drowning the rest of the world out.

But he’s close, he can tell. Raijin’s chakra hangs thick in the very air here, lingering like smoke from the remnants of what looks like a chase judging by the damage left behind. The notes of afternoon-seasalt-storm-starburst only call Minato to push his speed even further, though he does falter at the sulfuric undertone that streaks through the remaining signature.

Something about it is horribly familiar, though he has never felt it from Raijin before.

Finally, he comes upon the heart of the fight, skidding to a halt in front of the mouth of the corridor where an entire section of a wall has collapsed in and smoke still billows in the air. The smell of blood fills the air and Minato’s heart all but beats in his throat and he carefully picks his way through the wreckage, employing a minor wind jutsu to dissipate some of the dust and debris before they can choke him.

“Raijin?” he calls out softly.

His hearing is still recovering from the earlier explosion but even so he can hear his shinobi approaching. Minato would prefer to find his brother for himself before they get here, though he can’t be sure he will be so lucky.

Nothing but silence answers him. Minato swallows harshly and begins to mould sensory chakra together before letting it spread out. He frowns, receiving no signs of life in the hallway aside from the approaching ANBU.

Is Raijin not here either then? But the dissipating sparks of chakra that linger in the air in the aftermath of a consuming jutsu undoubtedly belong to him, so he was here, and quite recently too.

And then Minato freezes as he finally approaches the heart of the conflict and its outcome: Shimura Danzou’s lifeless eyes stare back up at him, though they are mismatched—one hazel and one black.

His headless corpse lies in a crumpled heap a small distance away.

“We’ve secured the perimeter, Hokage-sama,” Commander Takigawa informs, materialising at Minato’s side. “The police inspectors are taking statements from the ROOT agents right now. I have a quarter of my forces working on gathering them all at the central chamber and looking into where the assailant might be.”

Minato purses his lips and nods. “He hasn’t been dead long,” he states, nodding at Danzou’s head. “The corpse has only just stopped bleeding.”

“So, the killer must be nearby,” Takigawa concludes grimly. “I’ll have them keep an eye out around the village and the borders.”

They are interrupted by ANBU Macaque approaching them, an air of wariness surrounding him. “Sir, I think you need to take a look at this.”

‘This’ turns out to be the prosthetic arm that Danzou had apparently been hiding behind all those bandages. It’s a disturbingly close design to the modifications that were done to Obito. It’s also implanted with ten sharingan.

Takigawa hisses in an uncharacteristic display of emotion, “Bloodline thief.”

Minato stares, mind dangerously blank. He’d known Danzou was a threat with his unshaking faith in his own authority and willingness to make questionable decisions even by shinobi standards, but he could never have imagined the man would resort to the ultimate taboo of their village. Ten sharingan. He can’t even imagine how the Uchiha will react.

“I want every inch of this place searched,” he decides, voice cold even to his own ears. “Go through every file, every record, every room, every crack in the walls. Nothing remains hidden. I want to know everything else Shimura Danzou may have kept secret from us.”

“Yes, sir.”

Swallowing, he adds, “His eyes. Check his eyes. They don’t match.”

A pause. With icy professionalism, “Yes, sir.”

“I want the Police Force to take point for this,” Minato states. “Danzou had eyes and ears everywhere, but it is unlikely there were any among the Uchiha given…recent developments, let’s say. Until I can be sure of who was loyal to him, I’d rather not take risks with such a sensitive situation. Make sure none of the ROOT agents are allowed to leave here until all the evidence is secured. And—”

The rest of his words are lost to a gasp as the threads of chakra in the back of his consciousness find what they are reaching for, Raijin’s connection to him coming back to life like a flare in the dark, blazing through every other thought in Minato’s head.

Takigawa inclines his head, face unreadable behind his Crane mask. “Hokage-sama?”

But Minato can barely hear him over the sound of his own heart beating in his ears. Raijin is close. Minato can feel him again. His brother has restored the connection for a reason—he wants to be found. Minato takes a shaky step back and then another. “I need to go,” he breathes.

The ANBU Commander is obviously taken aback. “Sir?”

“I need to go,” Minato repeats. “Something just came up. I’ll be back. Do as I said until then.”

Hokage Monument. That’s roughly where Raijin’s location seems to be. Minato knows he has a Hiraishin seal there somewhere. He doesn’t think twice before triggering the transportation, ripping through space-time with less grace than he usually affords in his frenzy to reappear just above the Sandaime’s stone head.

And there he is, waiting.

Raijin stands on the cliff’s edge before him, eyes like flint and face unreadable, features cast in a shadow under the light of the setting sun at his back. The ROOT uniform he wears is ripped in places and sports dark patches that are telltale signs of bloodstains, but there are no visible injuries on him at least.

When he smiles, it is one of the wry false smiles that don’t reach his eyes. Something about it feels like a shard to Minato’s heart. “Hey, nii-chan.”

Minato licks his lips, mouth suddenly dry. “Raijin,” he returns. Now that they’re here, he finds that he isn’t quite sure what to say.

“You know,” his brother starts thoughtfully, “I think I just didn’t want to believe it would ever get to this, but a part of me knew there would be no avoiding it.”

Everything about that immediately has Minato on his guard; from the detached emptiness in Raijin’s eyes to the tone of inevitability he has adopted. Wary, he asks, “What do you mean, otouto?”

“I killed him, nii-chan,” Raijin states simply. “I knew the things he has done; the things he was planning on doing. I knew I was running out of time. I should have done something sooner, but—” He cuts himself off, inhaling deeply. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. It’s done. I killed him. It’s finally over.”

Minato stares. “Did you plan this?”

“It had to be done,” Raijin says simply. “I made a promise. I couldn’t go back on my word. Letting Danzou be was never an option.”

“You made a promise to kill Shimura Danzou,” Minato repeats, head spinning. “It was premeditated.”

“He will never harm anyone else ever again,” Raijin states plainly. “I’ve finally fixed everything I could.”

He looks dazed as he says this, as though coming to a realisation for himself. Minato has never seen him look like this. Raijin is usually such a spot of brightness, it’s like he radiates a sense of life. His brother has always had his eyes fixed on a far-off horizon somewhere, a larger-than-life kind of energy fueling him like he is a supernova trapped under human skin.

Now, though, Raijin looks…empty. He might be looking at Minato but it’s like he sees nothing, his mind somewhere far away. Lost. Like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

In some ways, it’s terrifying. Minato’s thoughts are racing, blurring into one another as he desperately tries to understand just what has happened and what is happening right now.

“Raijin,” he begins slowly, deliberately, “listen to me—you need to turn yourself in, okay? Your chakra signature and DNA is still going to be at the scene of the crime, and the Police Force knows you have motive to act. You just ran an illegal operation to take over ROOT and kill its leader. They’re going to be looking for you.”

Snorting, Raijin sets his jaw. “He deserved it.”

“Maybe,” Minato acquiesces, “but that isn’t for you to decide. He should have been tried and punished by the village.”

Raijin’s eyes narrow slightly, a cold presence leaking into them that makes him look more awake at least. “He was a bloodline thief, nii-chan. He was a warmonger and a child stealer. You can’t even begin to imagine half the things that man is responsible for.”

Minato closes his eyes and inhales deeply. “Raijin, you don’t understand—a shinobi of your calibre and standing cannot choose to throw his strength around like this and act out instead of trusting the systems we have in place for a situation like this.”

His younger brother scoffs. “Like Danzou wouldn’t have figured it out the moment anyone tried to look too deeply into any of his actions,” he argues. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that Konoha faces abnormal amounts of border skirmishes? Or that the last person who managed to rise to political influence in this village before you was the Sandaime? What do you think happened to Katou Dan, nii-chan?”

Ice crawls through Minato’s veins. “What?”

“Katou Dan,” Raijin repeats. “Senju Tsunade's fiance and famous Hokage candidate? His last mission was sabotaged. Hatake Sakumo wasn’t driven to suicide by any old coincidence either. Even Orochimaru for that matter. Haven’t you ever thought about just why a decorated shinobi—a Sannin, of all people—has such a poor reputation in the village he dedicated his life to? What about Uchiha Fugaku never getting recognition for his contributions to Konoha?” Brows furrowing, he asks, “Nii-chan, why do you think you had to face a thousand enemy shinobi with a team of fourteen and no backup in sight?”

The implication that Shimura Danzou could have had his hand behind each and every one of those incidents has shivers crawling down Minato’s spine. “How—how do you know all this?”  

Raijin shakes his head. “I’ve known since before I even came to Konoha. Shimura Danzou would have driven us all to ruin.” Running a rough hand through his windswept hair, he admits, “I’d hoped imprisonment would be enough. That I could just make you see how much of a threat he was and let you deal with him. But it would have taken too long, and it could put you and Kushina-nee at risk. Besides, he went after Shisui. Itachi would have been next. And then—” Swallowing, he stops. His eyes have lost focus again, like he isn’t even talking to Minato anymore. “It’s better for everyone this way. Danzou needed to pay for everything he has done. It’s the least I can do for Sasuke.”

This wasn’t just premeditated, Minato realises. Raijin has had his eye set on Danzou’s downfall for much longer than he expected. If he did this for that friend of his, Sasuke, then this is something that Raijin has had in mind since that friend was alive. Since before he pledged allegiance to Konoha. There is a history here. This was personal.

Not for the first time, Minato realises just how little he truly knows about his brother. He has tried to be patient and understanding about it. Tried to wait until Raijin feels comfortable enough to come to him of his own accord. Tried to look past all the unknown history Raijin is deliberately tight-lipped about and see a future in which his brother is at his side.

Now though…

Minato tries to swallow past the painful lump in his throat. “Raijin, who are you?” Every second of silence feels like an eternity. Minato tries again, “Where did you come from? How did you get so strong? How did you know Danzou before you even came here? Who are Sasuke and Sakura?”

In stark contrast to his desperation, Raijin’s face is blank. He stands perfectly still, like he is more statue than human, with his distant eyes. Like a ghost.

“I can’t tell you.”

Minato thinks he could cry. “Don’t you trust me?” he asks, and it comes out like he is begging to be believed.

Raijin is quiet. Every moment of his silence feels like a knife being twisted in Minato's gut. Finally, he says, “You’re a good Hokage, Minato.” His lips pull into a smile that is simply an expression of heartbreak more than anything else. “And you’re everything I could ask for in a brother. I’ve been happier with you than I could have ever imagined.”

“Then why won’t you tell me the truth?”

“I don’t even know where to start,” he admits softly. “I don’t know how to tell you or how to stop being afraid that you won’t believe me.” His face crumples. “That you won’t want to keep me anymore.”

“Raijin,” Minato says, pleads, heart aching, “Raijin, I will always want you. You’re my brother.”

But Raijin shakes his head and takes a step back. “Minato, don’t you see? I don’t belong here.”

Minato steps forward, instinctively knowing he cannot let Raijin put distance between them. Even now, it’s like he is slipping away. Like Minato is losing him all over again in as many days. “What are you talking about? Of course, you belong.”

“You don’t understand,” Raijin refutes, eyes glassy. “I’m not supposed to be here. Everything is finally fixed, and now, I’m the only thing that’s wrong. Namikaze Raijin isn’t even supposed to exist, but he’s all I have left and still I don’t know who he’s supposed to be. Who I’m supposed to be. What do I do now?”

And Minato doesn’t know how to respond to that. Raijin isn’t making any sense, ranting on with his glassy eyes blown wide in some half-crazed frenzy that Minato doesn’t even know how to begin understanding because Raijin won’t tell him.

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to calm down. Minato just needs to focus on the next step in front of him. “Raijin,” he begins, “let’s just go home, okay? We’ll go home and you will turn yourself in. Then we can start preparing for your trial and Danzou’s.”

Raijin stares at him, tension leaving his frame and leaving him limp. “What’s the point?” he asks softly. “It will fix nothing.”

“Of course, it will,” Minato snaps, control slipping. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply again. Calm. Focus. “It will help,” he repeats. “You can explain yourself and clear your name and everything will return to normal again.”

His brother tilts his head as though considering this. Something about the angle strikes Minato as oddly unnatural. “Will that be a good thing?” Raijin asks, voice barely carrying over the wind.

Minato blinks, stumped. “Why wouldn’t it?”

Smiling wryly, Raijin says, “Because we can’t live like this forever, nii-chan.”

Breath caught in his throat, Minato forces out, “What are you talking about?”

“You will always want to know the truth,” Raijin states with his unshaking certainty, “and I might never be able to tell you. How long will we last like that?”

A very real fear takes root in Minato’s chest, squeezing painfully around his lungs. It almost sounds like… “Raijin, are you leaving?”

No. He can’t. He wouldn’t, would he? He wouldn’t just leave Minato like that. He can’t. Minato won’t let him. Raijin has to know that. Has to know that Minato would give anything to keep him here, would do anything to make him happy. He has to know that Minato would chase after him forever for the chance to drag him back home and make him see that he does belong. He belongs right here with Minato and Kushina and the whole host of people who love him.

But Raijin isn’t saying anything. He only looks back at Minato with pursed lips and no denial.

Minato freezes. “You can’t leave,” he says, and it comes out so small, no one would think to imagine the Hokage could ever sound like this. Yet here is, reduced to such helplessness by his own little brother.

“I can’t stay, nii-chan,” Raijin whispers. “They’re all going to want answers I can’t give them. I was never supposed to be here to begin with.’

Tears well in Minato’s eyes, blurring his vision and he stubbornly blinks them away. “You’re not leaving. You can't,” he states. “Raijin, please, let’s just go home.”

“I’m sorry,” Raijin says, offering him a half-hearted smile. “I don’t know how to tell you the truth, but I know I can’t keep lying to you anymore either.”

Minato reaches for him, all but stumbling in his haste. “I don’t want the truth. I just want you to stay.”

“Ah,” Raijin says, gaze briefly drifting down to where Minato has curled his fingers into the material of his stolen cloak, “now you’re the one who’s lying, nii-chan.”

Some part of Minato wants to sob. The other wants to scream and rage and shake the sense into Raijin. “Why won’t you just trust me?” he begs.

“It’s not your fault,” Raijin soothes, lifting a hand to gently swipe his thumb under Minato’s eye where a tear manages to slip past despite his best efforts. “I could never wish my burdens upon you.”

‘It’s not a burden,’ Minato wants to say. Wants to scream. ‘You’re not a burden. You’re my brother.’

But by then Raijin is smoke slipping through his fingers and Minato realises he was too late right from the very start.

Raijin is long gone.

Chapter Text

He ends up at the shores of Uzushio once again, like a ghost returning to haunt the house where it died.

There are no answers waiting for him here. No comfort or strength or great cosmic revelations. But Uzushio is hidden. It is safe. Abandoned. There are no people or judgement or expectations. No reason for him to be Namikaze Raijin or Uzumaki Naruto or anyone in between.

Here, he is allowed to simply…be.

Kurama is worried, he can tell. The old fox bullies his way to the front of his mind, filling it with his presence and pressing close to his skin as if to remind him that he is not alone. Never alone. They are closer than skin and bone and blood. Nothing he faces he will ever face by himself. He clings to the comfort, receding into the safety of his friend’s presence a little and allowing himself to disappear into the confines of his own mind. Kurama will watch to make sure nothing bad happens to them. Kurama will keep him safe.

All he has to do is exist.

He floats away.

Shimura Danzou’s posthumous trial marks a historically public affair for Konohagakure; a spectacle the likes of which Shikaku has never seen for himself.

It’s almost like something out of a play the way things unfold one after the other. Shimura Danzou is revealed to have been assassinated in the heart of his own shadowy organisation. Namikaze Raijin is the killer and is apparently on the run. The Councilman then turns out have a long, long list of crimes under his belt, bloodline theft being just one among the several counts of murder, sabotage, abduction, etc.

The man falls from grace seemingly overnight with massive public outcry against him as the people demand the blood of a dead man who wronged them over and over again for the sake of his own perfect utopia.

Judgement on Namikaze Raijin is far more divided, however. Since the proceedings of the trial are extensively reported on due to the high-profile nature of the case, the court of public opinion unfortunately does hold quite a bit of weight. Whether it is fair or not, there is a large amount of politics at play here.

On one hand, Raijin saved thirty-four children and killed a traitor to the village. He did stage a semi-hostile takeover of ROOT’s headquarters to do so, but he employed tactics to clearly minimise collateral damage as much as possible, using relatively harmless pranks to inconvenience or incapacitate. While a fair few ROOT agents are injured, only three of them died during the whole affair—two under a structural collapse, and one by Raijin’s hand during a confrontation in Danzou’s office.

On the other hand, he also decided to take matters into his own hands instead of approaching the proper channels despite his brother literally being the highest authority in the village and essentially assassinated a village elder while holding over three hundred shinobi hostage for almost two hours. For a shinobi with his strength and influence to go rogue despite how famously Minato dotes on his brother, it would set a dangerous precedent and raise all sorts of unwanted questions that could threaten the stability of Minato’s office.

The boy is simultaneously being hailed as a hero and a criminal. A messiah and someone to regard with caution all at once.

There are some who are questioning the Hokage’s trustworthiness seeing how his own brother refused to approach him for help. A part of the civilian faction is trying to turn the issue into one of ethics and spark enough controversy to possibly wrestle some of the power away from the shinobi stronghold. The Sandaime’s public image has taken a steep nosedive as he is brought under immense scrutiny for giving Danzou all his power in the first place. He has made a public apology, but given the sheer scale of his negligence, no one seems too inclined to grant him forgiveness. It is expected that he will be forced into an unofficial exile for his own safety.

And here Shikaku is now, called to the stand at the trial to throw in his own ryo’s worth opinion since he’s the one who shadowed Raijin on his qualifying missions what feels like a lifetime ago.

“Your report states that you considered Namikaze Raijin to be a valuable asset to the village’s forces, Nara-dono,” Yamanaka Tooru—Raijin’s court appointed lawyer even in the Namikaze’s absence says. “Can you elaborate on what made you think so?”

“He’s a good shinobi,” Shikaku states simply, shrugging. “He’s a powerhouse with a well-rounded offensive skillset and a charismatic leader to boot. We were at war and in need of all the help we could get, especially from powerful young people like Raijin. It was a logical conclusion.”

Tooru hums. “And was there anything that stood out to you as strange at the time? I understand part of your job was to scope him out as a potential threat or spy.”

Shikaku pauses and considers. “It is my belief that Raijin has received the training of a Konoha shinobi despite his previous unaffiliated status.”

Pale eyes gleaming, Tooru presses, “Why do you believe that?”

“A couple of reasons.” Shikaku leans back in his chair and wishes he could light his pipe. “For one, his taijutsu uses Konoha’s traditional style as a foundation. He also knew our handsigns and codes without needing to be taught. Raijin had extensive knowledge of clan techniques and bloodline limits since he utilised his teammates’ abilities with high efficiency, again without receiving the information beforehand.”

“Namikaze is said to have excellent information gathering skills. Could these be the source for all the discrepancies you mentioned?”

He shakes his head. “It wouldn’t explain the instinctive use. You don’t get that without years of experience.”

Tooru dips his head. “Thank you, Nara-dono. That will be all.” While Shikaku vacates the witness stand, the lawyer turns to the overseeing judge and requests, “May I please call Uchiha Kokomi as my next witness, your honour?”

The judge—retired kunoichi, Sawamura Yumi—gives her approval. Shikaku glances at the Uchiha inspector as she passes him on her way to the stand, eyebrow rising in interest. He has to admit, the court proceedings have certainly been far from dull as he’d feared when he’d been informed that he was invited to participate as an important witness.

Uchiha Kokomi settles in the seat he just vacated, face impassive and posture immaculate as the Uchiha are known for. Looking at them, you’d never think this is the clan that is pretty much clamouring to adopt Namikaze Raijin as one of their own for killing Shimura, leading the faction that supports bringing Raijin back to the village without any consequences for the assassination.

Rather notably, Minato himself has remained tight-lipped about his own thoughts on the matter, dodging all the demand for a statement and only concerning himself with the police investigation as a witness. He even abstained from presiding over the trial as the judge which is the usual protocol for a case of this importance, only saying that it wouldn’t be fair as he could not be objective and appointing Yumi in his stead.

“Uchiha-san, please inform the court of your role in the investigation process for this case.”

“I am the deputy lead detective,” Kokomi answers evenly. “Fugaku-dono could not be here himself due to a family emergency.”

Family emergency being his wife going into labour. Not like anyone here doesn’t already know.

Tooru nods. “You are the one who confirmed that the chakra signature and DNA found at the scene belonged to Namikaze, yes?”

“Correct.”

“And it was you who found an anomaly in the accused’s signature too?” Tooru waits for Kokomi to nod before continuing, “Could you please explain for the jury the nature of this anomaly, Uchiha-san?”

Kokomi turns her gaze to the jury in question, composed of the clan heads not directly involved in the matter and elected civilian representatives. “Namikaze Raijin’s chakra signature readings are similar to our recorded readings of the jinchuurikis’ signatures,” she states bluntly. Unfazed by how the court immediately explodes into a flurry of whispers at the reveal, she continues, “His chakra undoubtedly resonates with that of the Kyuubi’s. It isn’t identical, of course. His is too yang-dominant. Almost entirely composed of it, actually. And the blend is far more seamless than observed in any of our jinchuuriki. Like someone isolated the yang chakra from the Kyuubi and sealed it into him at birth.”

From the jury, Chouza and Inoichi glance at Shikaku with thinly veiled shock. Helplessly, Shikaku shrugs back at them. He doesn’t have any more idea than they do. All of this is news to him, after all, with how tightly the Uchiha are monitoring their case information to prevent any leaks. Honestly, this case just gets crazier every day the proceedings continue.

Tooru passes copies of the forensic report to the judge and jury for their perusal before turning back to Kokomi. “Of course, unfortunately, we cannot ask the accused himself for the reason his chakra signature reads as such. Do the Police Force have any idea though?”

From the shrewd way Kokomi’s eyes narrow at Tooru, it’s obvious the police have something in mind. Shikaku leans forward in his seat. Another revelation?

“We uncovered entries in the journal of Danzou’s scientific pursuits regarding the jinchuuriki and how the Kyuubi’s chakra merges with theirs,” she admits at last. “There is some record of attempting to artificially synthesise a jinchuuriki of his own, though the experiment has very little coverage and there is no note on whether it was a success or failure. We do know that Uzumaki DNA was desired in an attempt to recreate their vitality and resilience to the Kyuubi’s chakra that is too corrosive for most other shinobi, but again, whether the experiment succeeded or not is inconclusive.”

Holy shit.

“The Police Force tested Raijin’s DNA to try and find for themselves whether he could possibly be linked to these experiments,” Tooru announces, handing the file of the results to the judge and jury. “As you can see, though the blood samples are not ideal due to age, possible contamination and insufficient quantity, they did receive enough of a positive match when tested against the DNA of Uzumaki Kushina that there is no question of some sort of relation between the two.”

Holy shit.

Chouza discretely signs ‘58% match’ for his benefit in the Ino-Shika-Cho code their families have used for generations of the alliance. That’s basically second or third generation relatives based on a dodgy blood sample.

Looking smug as the cat that got the canary, Tooru turns back to the judge. “I would have liked my next witness to be Namikaze Minato, but unfortunately, the honourable Hokage has declined from making a court appearance due to personal reasons. He has, however, kindly allowed us to reveal the transcript of his interview with the Police Force.”

Oh, what’s this now? How is Minato’s interview relevant to this angle that Raijin’s lawyer is chasing?

As it turns out, it is in fact relevant due to their Hokage’s recorded testimony that, in their final confrontation, his brother essentially confirmed that he had been personally familiar with Shimura Danzou even prior to his immigration to Konoha.

So suddenly, they are being confronted with the possibility that Raijin has in fact been some tragic victim of unethical experimentation at the hands of the village’s newest boogey man right from the start, and this was him snapping and killing off his abuser in response to the stress of his sabotaged mission and Uchiha Shisui’s poisoning.

Shikaku kind of wants to laugh. The evidence they have been presented with is pretty much circumstantial since there is no real confirming or denying it in Raijin’s absence, and in Shikaku’s personal experience, Raijin has never reacted to Danzou or ROOT in a way that would suggest such a personal connection. It’s an interesting theory that explains some things pretty neatly, but he isn’t sure he buys it just yet.

It doesn’t matter though. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been enough if it had been a closed trial with only a judge overseeing it. As it is, however, Raijin’s fate is in the hands of a jury that is more easily influenced by emotional personal tragedies even if they are hypothetical at best. The jury in question is also composed rather heavily of shinobi clan heads who are pretty much all silently banded together against everything Shimura Danzou stands for even if it means standing with the man’s killer. Together, it makes all the difference in the world.

Once this hits the papers in the evening, there will be even more public support for the young man who chose to act and kill a traitor instead of waste any more time for ‘politics’. It certainly helps that Raijin was famously so happy-go-lucky that no one can truly see him as a murderer despite his impressive military record from the war. As far as most of the village is concerned, he will be a hero.

Shikaku doesn’t think that there will be true forgiveness for Raijin, not after how blatantly and successfully he managed to contest Konoha’s authority, but it doesn’t seem like Yamanaka Tooru is going for that anyway.  He didn’t plead as not guilty; he’s simply going for as much of a reduced sentence as he can get out of the jury by playing at their emotions and political alignment.

With the Uchiha being in charge of airing out all of Shimura Danzou’s dirty laundry and being the biggest victims of the bloodline theft, they’ve been thrust back under the public eye like they haven’t since right after the village’s founding. Since they’re garnering so much sympathy and support, and with Minato actually handing over all the responsibility for the investigation to them, thereby cementing his own silent support, the clans don’t want to speak out against Raijin and risk having it be taken as a slight against the Uchiha and the crimes they suffered. Not only would it result in an immediate character assassination in the papers, but it would also piss off the Uchiha and the Hokage.

So, they can’t let the boy get off scot-free, but punishing him too harshly wasn’t much of an option either. Now, at least, they have an excuse for taking pity on the poor young man who returned to a village he might have been thrown out of or escaped from just to find the man responsible for his misfortune healthy, whole and still in power.

From her seat next to Shikaku, Uzumaki Kushina snorts and leans back in her seat. “We’re going to have Rai-kun back here in no time at this rate.”

He hums. “I’d wager some community service at the very least,” he disagrees. “Of course, they’d have to find and bring him back for that first.” He glances at her sideways as he says this.

Kushina’s jaw twitches and she crosses her arms. “Minato’s working on it,” she responds evenly. For someone notorious for her exuberant personality, she certainly knows how to exercise impressive control over herself when she thinks she needs to. Quite like her future brother-in-law in that regard. Makes sense they’d turn out to potentially be related too. “Rai-kun is just freakishly good at hiding.”

“He did evade Jiraiya-san for months too,” Shikaku comments thoughtfully. “Makes you wonder if he had other reasons for doing that now, doesn’t it?”

Violet eyes regard him for a moment of contemplation. “Rai-kun has always been reticent about his past. Even I can’t tell what he might have been thinking back then.” Pursing her lips, she adds, “Or when he decided to leave the village for that matter.”

Shikaku hums, admitting, “I didn’t really anticipate that either.”

“We knew he wasn’t as okay as he seemed,” she says softly, “but none of us imagined this. I’ve never seen Minato so heartbroken.”

Softening, Shikaku says, “Understandably. I wonder what he’ll think of these new developments.”

“I can’t say,” she shrugs, “but it’s not like any of this will change how desperately Minato is trying to find Rai-kun. As far as he’s concerned, I think, the one in need of convincing isn’t a jury. It’s Raijin.”

Shikaku frowns, thinking this over. “Well, let’s hope it all works out then.”

Kakashi is straight up just not having a good time.

Namikaze Raijin assassinated Shimura Danzou and apparently decided to fuck off instead of facing the consequences of his actions. This has the deeply unfortunate side effect of depressing the hell out of both Obito and Minato, who mope around like miserable wraiths without their emotional support fox summoner and resort to clinging to Kakashi more than ever before.

Speaking of Shimura Danzou; it turns out the stupid old horse looking face rag orchestrated the sabotage of the mission that marked Sakumo’s fall from grace, and then as if that wasn’t enough, exacerbated the rumours flying around the village that ultimately led Kakashi’s father to committing suicide. Kakashi might have tried to destroy a training field or two when he found out until Obito came along to trap him in a cuddle pile including all his dogs and Rin’s inescapable octopus arms. He still hasn’t really finished processing it. It’s a can of flesh-eating worms he’s just not going to touch for a while. Or ever. Maybe.

Needless to say, Kakashi pretty staunchly joins the campaign voting to bring Raijin back to the village for extremely valid reasons other than it would get Minato to stop looking like he wants to drown in a puddle of his own tears at the earliest given opportunity.

It’s not like their sensei really shows it when he’s going about his duties as per usual. Minato has a solid poker face and he’s freakishly good at avoiding questions from the press or the opposition. In fact, he has chosen to refrain from addressing the situation publicly at all aside from announcing his full cooperation with the investigation process. Privately, however, Minato has clearly taken Raijin’s departure hard.

Kakashi knows his sensei blames himself. Minato thinks he should have done more to keep his brother in the village, should have tried to be more reliable or trustworthy or whatever. Kakashi also knows from experience that, sometimes, it doesn’t matter how hard you try if the other person simply does not want to be reached. You can love someone as much as you are able, but sometimes, they do not know how to be loved.

Minato could have been the most trustworthy person on the planet but, right from the very start, Raijin never had any intention of telling anyone his secrets.

Which for some fucking reason has resulted in literal divine intervention, and the universe has chosen Kakashi of all people to divulge all of the man’s precious secrets to.

Kakashi would appreciate if the universe could work on its mode of communication though. In his opinion, the dreams that make it feel like his soul is quite literally trying to eject itself out of his body are getting really old. Why can’t the gods just possess his television or something instead? Hell, Kakashi would accept a carrier pigeon too. The dreams are seriously starting to test his hold on sanity with how immersive and emotionally wrenching they are.

Every time he sleeps, Kakashi feels like he has simply possessed someone else’s body and is forced to live their life with them instead of actually getting any useful rest.

Hopefully, his family’s wolf summons have useful information for him regarding the dreams though. Kakashi has a feeling that if he solves the mystery behind how his dreams are connected to Raijin, he’ll break his curse or whatever it is.

“This Raijin-san of yours,” Masumi starts, golden eyes piercing, “he is the one who shifted the balance of your world.”

Kakashi stares. “I beg your pardon.”

Masumi tilts her head. “There is no need to beg. This information will cost you a vow to me and mine, and a year of offerings to Inari Okami.”

“That’s not—” Kakashi stops, sighing. “Right. Okay. I’ll do that. Will you please explain what you meant by Raijin-san changing the balance of the world or something?”

“Exactly that,” Masumi says simply. “You remember I told you that the fate of this realm was forcibly changed and it has affected the other realms too? It was his doing. The kitsune have been bragging to anyone who will listen that their relatives are contracted to The Traveller as the kudan called him before it died.”

Man, his head already hurts. Kakashi needs to sit down. He does so, plopping right down on his kitchen floor. “How did he change my world? And why is he The Traveller? What does he have to do with my dreams?”

Masumi blinks her narrow eyes at him. “His existence alone has borne affects you will never grasp, cub,” she says finally. “No mortal has ever attempted to do what he has successfully managed. It is no simple thing to intend to change fate and then to actually do so. I myself do not know how, but they are saying that he traversed distances mortals have yet to find a way to cover, all to outwit the Moon Goddess and her hunger for revenge. That he has trapped her in her prison forevermore.”

Raijin defeated some sort of Moon Goddess and stuck her in a jail? Just what was that guy up to when no one was looking? When the fuck did he change the world? Where did he come from? Why did he travel? How did he travel? What did he travel?  

Kakashi kind of wants to stick his own head in the freezer. He thinks his brain might actually be smoking.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath and raking a hand through his hair. “Okay. You said my dreams are about what the fate of my world could have been, right? So, my instincts have been calling to Raijin-san to warn me that he’s the one who caused the change. Is that all it is?”

“I cannot tell you for sure, cub,” Masumi answers thoughtfully. “Have you seen The Traveller in your dreams, yet?”

Kakashi frowns. He hasn’t actually. He hasn’t even heard anyone mention Raijin so far. Not even as a missing nin or something. “Not really.”

Masumi’s eyes flash but she only rumbles and huffs into his hair. “Well, I’m sure it is only a matter of time before you figure it out. Now, do not forget the offerings to Inari-sama. I had to strike quite the bargain with those pesky foxes to cost you only a year, child.”

Sighing, he lets himself to fall face first into Masumi’s fur. “I’m going to stay like this forever.”

The old wolf snorts, rumbling with laughter as she noses at him fondly. “Very well, cub. Do as you please.”

He comes to when Kurama gently prods his consciousness out of their shared haven and coaxes him back into awareness. His friend does not leave, still pressed close to the confine of his skin, holding him together from within, but it is enough to remind him that he is real. That he exists. That he is someone, though he doesn’t know how to do that right now.

It isn’t something he wants to figure out just yet either. No. He is only going to do the things he wants to do now. Kurama seems to approve of this endeavour too. He thinks he’d like to go for a swim instead actually, so he does. And then he feels hungry, so he fishes. Then he sleeps.

When he wakes, he is itching with the need to move, so he goes for a walk.

Uzushio is as haunted as he feels. The island is under veritable stasis seals so there is no rot, but it doesn’t change that everything inside is dead and gone. It…doesn’t sit right with him. Everyone here used to be someone just like him. They had names and hopes and dreams. Now they’re just dead, on their way to becoming dust. Forgotten. Abandoned. Like they never lived a life before becoming ghosts.

He decides that the least he can do is make sure they can finally rest well in the Pure Lands. Their blood runs through his veins. He is all they have right now. He wants to do this, so he decides he will.

It takes him a while, but with the multiple shadow clone jutsu at his disposal, it is little more than a minor inconvenience at best for him to build as many boats as he is able. Then he spends quite a while hauling all the corpses of his ancestors into said boats before finally pushing each one out to sea personally, murmuring a prayer for their safe arrival to the afterlife.

Uzushio was born of the sea. It makes sense to him to give the island’s children back to it too. It doesn’t matter that it feels like he has sent off the ghost of who he used to be right alongside all those corpses.

‘You did good, kit,’ Kurama tells him when they are seeing off the final boat, watching it slowly drift out to sea to join the rest of its fleet. ‘You did real good. Let’s get some rest now, okay?’

He hums and sits down in the white sand. The sun sets. The tide rises. He floats again.

Minato is trying.

He’s trying to forget. To remember. To search and ignore. To keep his head and work and feel his grief. To hold onto a brother that has left him. To let him go in case he never wants to come back.

He doesn’t think he’s succeeding at any of these things, but—he’s trying.

Kushina helps. She holds him together with loving hands and soft words and a softer heart. He knows she must miss him too. Raijin had been hers almost as much as he had been Minato’s. But Kushina has always been the stronger of the two.

“Sometimes the people we love cannot stay with us even if they want to, Minato,” she tells him, letting him hide in the safety of her embrace. “But that doesn’t mean we have to forget. That we have to cut out the space they used to take up. Rai-kun sounds like he needs to be a little lost right now, but that doesn’t mean he won’t ever find his way back home. And when he does, we’ll be right here, waiting for him.”

He keeps her words in his mind as he pushes through day after day of no word from his brother or those who have been sent out to look for him.

Shimura Danzou’s trial gets wrapped up with ruthless efficiency, his crimes listed publicly so there is no redemption for the man. All his achievements and accolades are revoked. He is branded a traitor of the highest order. His name is smirched from their history books so he may only ever be remembered for how he wronged the village and its people.

Raijin’s trial takes longer, but eventually, it too ends. They say that it is highly likely he was an experiment abandoned in childhood by ROOT. That there might have been others like him. If Danzou managed to successfully synthesise Mokuton in a child even after Orochimaru confirms he gave up on the undertaking, there is no telling what else the man might have managed to achieve. They take this into account when deciding on Raijin’s sentence and eventually settle on 400 hours of community service to be served with the Uchiha and Akimichi clans.

The debates regarding the fairness of such a sentence are soon lost to the buzz generated by Tsunade announcing the official launch of her programme, and then her decision to adopt Kinoe—the child ROOT managed to give Mokuton to—as a ward of the Senju clan.

Minato…doesn’t know what to think about the possibility of Raijin being the victim of one of ROOT’s experiments. On one hand, it explains so much about his brother’s reticence, his knowledge of the village and its clans, and all his strange abilities. On the other hand, wouldn’t Raijin tell Minato something like that? Is this the secret that drove him away? Did Raijin think Minato would somehow not believe or be ashamed of him?

He hates that he can’t tell anymore. Once, Minato had been certain Raijin knew how much Minato loves him. How much he’d give just to make his brother happy. These days, he’s not so sure.

Minato is terrified that he will love Raijin forever and they won’t ever even be in the same room together again. Terrified that he is suffocating under the weight of all this grief, all this love, and somehow it still won’t be enough to make Raijin come back. To make him want to stay.

“Minato-sensei!” The door to his home office is thrown open to reveal a red-faced and panting Kakashi, hair mussed from sleep and face twisted into a scowl of determination.

Blinking at his student, Minato sets down the papers he’d been reviewing despite the late hour of the night. “Kakashi-kun? What’s wrong?”

“Raijin-san,” Kakashi blurts out, all but rocketing to Minato’s side. “I think I know where he might have gone!”

His heart stops. Minato stares at Kakashi, refusing to feel even an ounce of the traitorous hope that rears its ugly head within him. “Where?” he tries to ask evenly. It comes out far too full of breath, trembling like his hands. “How do you know?”

“These crazy not-prophetic dreams. Apparently, there’s some yokai blood in me or something,” Kakashi answers, waving his hand impatiently. “That’s all unimportant though. What matters is I think I got the final dream today and everything makes a lot of sense right now but I can’t tell you because I’m a little bit yokai so it might cost you something and I don’t know how any of that works yet, so you just have to trust me when I say I know where he might have gone.”

Minato blinks. He doesn’t think he has ever heard Kakashi speak so much in one go. Yokai? Prophetic dreams? “You—How long—?” Minato shakes his head. It doesn’t matter right now. They can come back to it later. Right now, there’s something bigger to address. “Where?”

“Uzushiogakure,” Kakashi answers, clasping his hands together as if to hold them still by force. “That’s where it all ends in my dream. I suspect that, for Raijin, it’s where all this began.”

“What began?”

Kakashi shakes his head. “Worry about that later. I’m almost certain he had to have gone back there after leaving Konoha.”

Minato takes a deep breath. His head feel like it has been stuffed full of cotton and left underwater. “Okay,” he exhales. “I can have a team dispatched by the morning to go investigate.”

“I’m going,” Kakashi announces.

“What?”

“I’m going to look for him too,” the boy repeats. “It was my dream to begin with. And my ninken can help me with tracking.”

“I can go with him.”

Minato’s head snaps back to the doorway where Kushina has apparently been standing for some time, her face unreadable.

Kakashi turns to her with a frown. “I can go by myself,” he argues.

Rolling her eyes exaggeratedly, she pushes off the doorway and strolls in leisurely. “You won’t even be able to get past the barrier around the island, half-pint,” she drawls. “You’re going to need an Uzumaki if you want to have any shot at looking for Rai-kun there.”

Minato rises to her feet, drawing closer to take her by the hand, searching her face. “Are you sure, Kushina?” His eyes drift down to where her pregnancy is making itself known rather obviously. “Will you be alright?”

Kushina smiles reassuringly at him, gently patting his cheek. “Don’t you worry about me, Minato,” she says, her chakra twining around his with all its vastness and familiar velvety texture. “I can handle a bit of travelling just fine. Jinchuuriki are resilient, you know. Besides, I know you’re always only a summon away.”

“You mean I’m going to be stuck with a crazy pregnant lady for however long this takes?” Kakashi scowls.

Kushina’s smile becomes frozen on her face even as Minato sighs and shakes his head. “Keep that up and the only thing you’re going to be stuck in is your coffin, you little shit.”

“Whatever,” Kakashi huffs, obviously making a face. “I was going to leave by sunrise.”

“I’ll be there,” Kushina promises. “Let’s go make sure Rai-kun knows he still has people waiting for him to come back."

‘What is your favourite colour?’ Kurama asks out of the blue as they sit on the roof of Uzushio’s city hall to watch the sunrise together.

“Orange,” he answers slowly.

‘What do you value most?’

He pauses. “Peace.”

‘Would you ever marry someone for their money?’

“No....?”

Kurama presses on. ‘What was the best phase of your life?’

“Training with Team 7.”

‘What are words you will always live by?’

Automatically, “Those who abandon their friends are worse than trash.” He frowns. “Is there a point to all this?”

Kurama mentally swats at him. ‘I’m trying to make you see that you’re someone with likes and dislikes and beliefs and a past. You’re still a person, kit. Just as annoyingly human as the rest of your insufferable species.’

He swallows. “I don’t even truly have a name anymore, Kurama.”

‘You are not your name. It isn’t something you become. It’s yours only if you want it to be and you can choose whether it sticks or not,’ Kurama argues. ‘Whether you are Naruto or Raijin isn’t ever going to change that you are you. The kid who loves orange and his friends and gave everything for peace. You can’t set aside the sum of your life’s experiences just like that; not when they’ve literally shaped who you are.’

He exhales sharply. “But what’s the point if no one will truly know those things about me?”

‘I know these things about you. Even more importantly, you know these things about you. Isn’t that what matters?’ Kurama says, far gentler than he has ever been with his jinchuuriki. ‘No one else gets to choose who you are and who you will become.’

Sullenly, the blond wraps his arms around himself. “I don’t know who I will become either,” he admits, whispering.

Just as quietly, Kurama says, ‘Then let's go find out.’

He thinks about it for a long moment, listening to the silence of the island. Finally, he asks, “How?”

‘What is one thing you have always wanted to do? Something meant just for you and your own joy?’

He considers this. Then sheepishly, “I’ve always wanted to try the different kinds of ramen around the continent.”

Kurama lets out a bark of startled laughter, his amusement leaking over to his partner through their emotional link. ‘Let’s start with that then. It’s not like anything is keeping you anymore.’

Humming, the blond inclines his head. “True,” he murmurs. “I have nothing but time.”

Chapter Text

All his life, he has walked looking ahead. For the first time, he can’t find anything to look at there, so with nowhere else to go, he spends much of his time looking back.

Now that he is on his own and there is no invisible clock counting down the days to a catastrophe, the ghosts of his past follow in his footsteps faithfully like his shadow.

He carefully presses flowers he knows Kakashi-sensei used to grow in a shitty planter by his window in his sealing notebook. Hums songs Sasuke used to secretly favour. Collects scraps of ribbons like he used to as a kid because Sakura always lost hers. Reads books that Jiraiya had recommended to him a lifetime ago.

He walks through towns that he travelled with Jiraiya or later with his friends, and he treats himself to all the ramen he wants to eat because he has been good and he deserves this one comfort at the very least. And he finds himself writing down everything he sees and feels, filling page after page with notes on the intricacies of ramen making, local folklore or which markets are tourist traps and which ones are hidden gems.

And more than that, he writes about his friends.

He writes about Sasuke’s secret smiles and how he’d try to hide them behind those stupid Uchiha high collars. The card tricks he’d do sometimes because they helped him focus. The pitches to his “Hn” that would give away what he was trying to say. The fact that he was freakishly good at whistling. That he taught himself to be ambidextrous out of spite in the Academy when he realised that Shikamaru could do it naturally.

Sakura comes even easier to him after all the time they spent together, willingly and otherwise. The scars on her hands from too many split knuckles and how she only wore gloves because she was insecure about them. Her wheezy cackle whenever he managed to make her laugh wholeheartedly. How she always made sure to have orange nail polish lying around just for him whenever she did his nails. Her razor-sharp sense of humour and vocabulary that would make even a sailor blush.

Kakashi and the way he taught himself how to accept and give physical affection for the sake of his cute little students. The advertisement jingles he’d sing under his breath while doing the dishes after team dinners at his apartment. The dog themed onigiri he’d bring to weekend training sessions. The voices he’d do when reading out plays to them during nights spent camping while on missions.

He writes about Jiraiya’s favourite drinking songs and the weekly civilian dramas he tried to never miss. Sai’s pickiness with his artistic supplies and how yellow was secretly his favourite colour. Captain Yamato growing bluebells whenever he was too happy to hide it. Iruka’s secret collection of teacups and massive handmade cookbook. Ino’s tips on how to figure out what eyeliner suited which eye shape and how she learned how to do makeup by experimenting on Shikamaru and Chouji. Tenten having the best sense of balance out of all of the rookies and offering to do the hair of anyone who asked because she just liked playing with other people’s hair.

Hinata being scary good at snowball fights and knowing the most complicated knots because they’d help her calm down. Kiba buying badges for his leather jacket from every successful mission he went on and being the best at picking up dialects and accents. Chouji being really good with tongue twisters and keeping lists of all his friends’ favourite foods. Shino always having some dark chocolate on hand and a penchant for terrible puns. Neji’s ugly snort laugh whenever he was startled into genuine amusement and how he was secretly a sucker for romance novels. Lee always having thoughtful advice to give and trying to have a secret handshake with all his friends. Shikamaru having extremely strong opinions about the most obscure things and developing minor jutsu for daily convenience. Gaara’s collection of floral hand creams and colourful kohl that he never used.

His friends may be dead and gone, but like this, at least they will not be forgotten.

Where there has been an emptiness within him for weeks, he fills himself with this quiet mourning that he has been running from for months. It isn’t quite the debilitating grief he thought it would be; he is too used to death and has gone on too long with this loss for it to be incapacitating and all consuming.

Instead, it is the familiar twisting knife of loneliness. A heaviness that spreads through him like lethargy and threatens to drag him lower with each step. The regret for time not cherished more. The things he has already begun to forget about them. The things he holds onto with desperate fervour so he does not lose them for a second time in an even more permanent way.

He may be alone now, but he had been loved and known and valued. These people existed to him as he existed to them. That’s important. It ought to be remembered.

Raijin has left Uzushio by the time they get there, but Kakashi says he isn’t hiding his trail so they should be able to track his scent. Not that it makes it easy to follow Raijin.

It becomes clear to Kushina pretty quickly that her future brother-in-law is travelling with no real destination in mind. His trail leads them off paths, in circles, through empty meadows and vast beaches, towards markets and restaurants, meandering around theatres and lingering in throes of civilisation. He seems to be going wherever the wind takes him, in and out of cultural spots and ramen stands. Kakashi is less than happy about all the detours, but Kushina is just glad that Raijin isn’t wasting away in isolation on an island of ghosts.

There’s also the added comfort that every time she funnels chakra into the spiralling seal on her shoulder, Raijin consistently responds by doing the same, acknowledging the connection and confirming his presence. For just a moment, his encompassing warm and salty chakra will curl lazily through hers, and for now, it is enough.

Kushina might not seem like it, but she has had to learn patience over the years. No jinchuuriki can truly go without doing so if they want to stay sane and kept alive by a village that will always see them more as a weapon than human. So, Kushina has had over a decade’s practice in tamping down on her natural impulses, and she’s content to take the long road if that’s what Raijin wants to do.

She’s going to get the answers she wants out of him one way or the other anyways. She can wait.

“This is the fifteenth ramen place we’ve passed this week,” Kakashi growls under his breath, looking seconds away from ripping out chunks of his own hair. Kushina glances at him in interest, wondering if he’s finally going to have the spectacular meltdown that has been building since Uzushio. The hormonal mood swings from puberty probably aren’t fun for Kakashi; personally, Kushina thinks it’s hilarious.

At Kakashi’s heels, Shiba and Pakkun are distracted, both of their noses pressed close to the ground before turning to the air and taking deliberate sniffs.

“Is he close?” Kushina asks, looking around.

“He is,” Pakkun confirms. “Really close actually.”

Kakashi pulls up his hitai-ate and turns his swirling sharingan to the windows of the ramen joint they’re standing outside. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he deadpans. “He’s in there.”

She’s at his side in an instant, pressing her nose to the window and peering through with squinted eyes. “Where? I don’t—oh! There he is!”

It has only taken them like three weeks. Minato’s poor tracker teams have been looking for almost two months now and haven’t managed to catch hide nor hair of Raijin.

“I guess we make a pretty good team, huh, Kashi-kun,” Kushina says, impressed with them. “We should do this more often.”

“What—go on trips to hunt down runaway shinobi?” Kakashi tries for a scoff, but his chakra spikes with amusement before he remembers to tamp down on it.

Kushina beams and scrubs a hand through his hair in that way that she knows absolutely pisses the boy off. “Sure! We can be the village’s number one tracking cell, y’know.”

Snorting, Kakashi steps away from the window and makes for the door. “If we’re doing this, then it will be a private business so we can keep 100% of the profit.”

Kushina lifts an eyebrow and hums, following after him. Pakkun and Shiba obediently trot off to amuse themselves until it’s time to go. “Careful there, Kashi-kun. You’re starting to sound an awful lot like Obito-kun.”

Kakashi gasps audibly, halting in his steps despite the fact that Raijin is a scant few feet from them and has yet to notice their arrival since he’s engaged in an animated discussion with the old lady sitting beside him.

“Oh spirits, it’s like a disease,” he whispers to himself, and Kushina can’t the help the way she throws her head back to laugh at that.

Instantly, Raijin is tensing in his seat by the counter and swivelling to look over at them with surprise written clear as day in his wide eyes. Kushina can’t help but catalogue his appearance, noting a new fullness to his cheeks and golden kiss to his skin. Raijin doesn’t look…happy per say, but he does look better rested and healthier than Kushina has seen him in a while.

She has always thought Raijin looks undeniably like Minato with their matching unique colouring and similar builds. For the first time, however, she sees how much Raijin looks like her too. The shape of his eyes, the dimples in his cheeks, the roundness of his jaw—they’re all things she sees whenever she looks in a mirror. Seeing them on Raijin now fills her with an undeniable warmth, making her heart feel so full that it feels fit to burst right through her ribs.

Never one to miss out on the excitement, Baby Naruto kicks in her belly, sympathising. It just makes the tightness in her chest worse but it’s not like she could ever be mad about such overwhelming contentment.

“Uh, hi,” Raijin says, blinking slowly. “Funny running into you guys here.”

“Funny?” Kakashi repeats, his voice cracking around the word. “We’re here looking for you, you moron!”

Grabbing the brat by the scruff, Kushina cheerfully manhandles him into one seat over from Raijin before claiming the seat in between them for herself. “It’s good to see you again, Rai-kun,” she says genuinely, patting a whiskered cheek. “You doing okay?”

Kakashi scoffs, eyeing Raijin. “He sure looks good for a guy who’s supposed to be on the run for committing murder.”

Raijin laughs sheepishly, gaze shifting towards the exit briefly. If he tries to run, Kushina will use her chakra chains to keep him in place. She doesn’t have that much patience and she’s pregnant; she deserves some slack.

“I’m…managing,” Raijin says after a moment, absently swirling his chopsticks in the leftover broth of his ramen. “It’s a work in progress.”

“I’ll bet.” Something about the sharp knowing way Kakashi is looking at him tells Kushina he has more than a little idea on what prompted Raijin to hightail it out of the village. Aside from the homicide thing. Though Raijin seems the type to not be afraid of those kinds of consequences if he believes he did the right thing. Unless he really does have a history with ROOT and Danzou?

Humming, the blond shifts uncertainly. “I just have a few things to figure out.”

“That’s normal at your age,” Kushina chimes in.

Raijin lifts an eyebrow at her though his lips do twitch up into a smile. “Nee-chan, you’re only two years older than me,” he points out.

She waves her hand dismissively. “Listen to your elders, Rai-chan. You have the least amount of life experience out of everyone at this table, y’know.”

“Kakashi is literally like twelve-years-old.”

The boy sniffs and turns away to study the menu pinned to the wall. “I’m sorry, but out of the two of us, which one is happily married right now?”

Raijin flounders for a moment but gives up pretty quickly, adopting the air of a man who has resigned himself to how out of control his life has gotten without him noticing. “Sure, okay, whatever. What do you guys want from me anyway? Are you here to arrest me or something?”

He doesn’t even have the decency to sound worried about that possibility, his attention more caught by a narutomaki floating in his broth. What a brat. Kushina has missed him.

“We’re here to drag you back so Minato-sensei will stop looking like someone kicked his puppy.”

“I’m actually just here for answers,” Kushina pipes up, waving down a waiter so she can place an order for an extra-large bowl of ramen. She has been travelling and she’s eating for two—she has more than earned this.

Raijin looks at her sideways. “Answers?”

Kakashi sighs. “About you having the yang half of the Kyuubi sealed inside you,” he says. “And hiding that you’re part Uzumaki too, I suspect. The investigation concluded that you might have been a ROOT experiment and that’s why you killed the creep. They tested whatever blood they collected from the crime scene against Kushina-san’s and got like a 50% match.”

“Ah.” The blond shifts, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I guess that stuff is out in the open now. I didn’t really think about that.”

“So, the Councilman really did synthesise the Nine Tails’ chakra and seal it into you?” Kushina prods curiously.

Raijin stares at his bowl for a long moment, eyes unfocused as he contemplates his answer. Kakashi watches him with an unreadable glint in his eye. Finally, the blond sighs, “No. I’ve never had anything to do with ROOT.”

Kushina blinks. “Then how…?”

Kakashi looks between them. “Are you going to tell her?”

Frowning, Raijin asks, “Do you…know something, Kakashi-kun?”

“My wolf summons said the spirits are calling you The Traveller because you shifted the threads of fate,” Kakashi supplies coolly. Neither of them seems to notice Kushina’s increasing confusion and sense of alarm. “I’ve been dreaming about what the world was supposed to look like before you interfered with it. I only recently finished dreaming about the last war. That’s how I knew you probably went to Uzushio.”

There is an unnatural stillness to Raijin as he studies Kakashi like he doesn’t know what to believe. “Then, you know—”

“The truth,” Kakashi finishes. “Yeah. I do.”

Raijin swallows hard. “Oh.”

Kushina’s brow furrows. “What…are you guys talking about?”

“Are you going to tell her?” Kakashi repeats calmly, gaze never leaving Raijin’s.

A strange, choked off half-keen leaves Raijin’s throat before he’s burying his face in his hands, his entire frame shaking almost imperceptibly. Kushina’s eyes widen at the way he seems to almost fold into himself.

“Rai-kun?” she whispers, tentatively placing a gentle hand on the blond’s back, rubbing slowly. “What is it, sweetie?”

“I’ll tell her if you can’t,” Kakashi offers flippantly, leaning back on his stool. “Though it isn’t in your nature to be so secretive, is it?”

Raijin is shaking his head without even looking up, something desperate edging into his voice as he agrees, “No, it isn’t. It’s been terrible having to hide everything. I mean, I’ve done my best, but it’s just so hard.”

They’re garnering glances thanks to Raijin having a public breakdown in a ramen restaurant but that’s hardly anywhere near the top of Kushina’s list of concerns right now.

“Oh, baby, you’ve been having a hard time all by yourself, huh?” she soothes, pulling Raijin into her side so he can bury his face in her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Rai-kun. I’ve got you.”

“But I’ve lied so much to you, nee-chan,” Raijin whispers miserably. “I’m sorry. I had to, but it doesn’t change that I was never honest with you guys, and I understand if you’re going to hate me for it, but it just sucks so much.”

Kakashi snorts, but his static-ozone-winter-cloud is going prickly with worry as he eyes the teary-eyed shinobi. “You’re an idiot if you think they’re going to hate you,” he says, even as he glares warily at Kushina as if to warn her against proving him wrong.

Kushina frowns. “Rai-kun, I promise I’m not going to get mad, okay? Will you tell me what’s going on with you? I can’t help if I don’t know.”

Raijin shakes his head and presses himself into her side. Kushina turns helplessly to Kakashi who only sighs and says, “His name isn’t Raijin.”

It takes everything in her not to gape or freeze at that. Kushina inhales deeply through her nose and counts to ten in her head. Then she says, “Okay. What is your real name then?”

Watery blue eyes look up at her as Raijin bites his lip, conflicting emotions passing over his face too quickly for her to pick them out. Fear, grief, hope. Finally, Raijin whispers, “Naruto. My real name is Uzumaki Naruto.” Kushina stares at him, uncomprehending. “I was born on October 10^th to Namikaze Minato and Uzumaki Kushina. I’m from twenty years in the future.”

The entire world may as well be holding its breath waiting for her response, both Kakashi and Raijin waiting with increasing wariness, their chakras swirling with anxiety around her.

Finally, Kushina manages to pick her jaw off the floor and blink. Everything suddenly makes complete sense and no sense at all. She’s going to buy another ramen after this since she can't get drunk; she deserves it.

“I don’t think I have a parenting book for that one,” she admits.

Beside her, Raijin bursts into tears and Kakashi sighs.

“Should I call you Naruto now?” Kushina asks later, when they are all piled into the small hotel room of her future son (and isn’t that still absolutely surreal) and have been listening to him quietly recount his future for several hours already.

It has been…an indescribable experience to say the least. Here’s a boy she has come to love as a little brother, and then it turns out that he’s her son from a future that will never be, and she doesn’t know where to even start with figuring out how she’s supposed to feel about all this.

What she does know though is that she is in no way going to let him go through this alone anymore.

The blond pauses, tensing again where he’d been bonelessly draped against her side. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.”

Kushina hums. “You feel like you’re stealing your other self’s life?” she guesses.

He makes a vague noise. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “It just doesn’t feel…right anymore? Uzumaki Naruto is supposed to be your kid.”

“You’re my kid too, aren’t you?”

“Except I’m not.” He shakes his head, choppy bangs falling over his eyes. “My mom and dad gave their lives for the village, leaving me all their final hopes and dreams. I am their legacy; I always will be. You guys won’t ever have to be those people, and I’m grateful for that—I literally changed the world so you wouldn’t have to make that choice. But that doesn’t change that it happened to me. That it was real for me. I am who I am as a product of where I’ve come from. It’s the one thing I can’t change. I resented Namikaze Raijin for that but…he’s me, isn’t he? The guy who lost everything so no one else would have to. Naruto grew up to become Raijin. I can’t change that either.”

She watches him for a long moment. The silence is only broken by the sound of Kakashi’s soft breathing from where he is fast asleep in Raijin’s bed.

Then, “And where do you think Namikaze Raijin is going to go next?”

Raijin snorts wryly and shrugs helplessly. “I wish I could tell you, nee-chan. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

She smiles, knocking her shoulder against his. “By going on a ramen trip around the continent?”

“Nothing quite as healing for the soul as good food, right?”

“Right.” Her smile fades. “Do you think Namikaze Raijin will ever want to come back to Konoha? He’s welcome there, you know, community service aside. He has a brother eagerly waiting for him back there. A gang of Uchiha kiddies too. I hear he’s quite the popular and beloved young man.”

Raijin laughs under his breath. “Someday, I’m sure. I think I just…need some time away to figure out what I want to do from here. Away from any expectations and stuff. Just get to know myself again I guess.”

“You’ll come find us when you’re done?” she confirms.

“I promise.”

Kushina nods once. “And what about Minato?”

Raijin purses his lips briefly. “I want to tell him myself,” he announces. “It’s the least he deserves.”

“Okay.” Smiling, she reaches out to ruffle his hair. “You’ve done a really good job, kiddo. I’m proud of you. I always knew Naru-chan would turn out to be the best of me and Minato, but now I have proof that you’re even better than anything we could have hoped for from our child. I’m sorry that it cost you so much, but I am glad to have met you. Raijin or Naruto or whoever you decide to be—I just want to thank you. For coming to us, saving us, making our lives better in ever single way. You take your time until you’re ready to come back home and just leave the rest to us, okay? You’ve done enough. We’ll wait.”

Days turn into weeks turn into months. Time passes and things change around the village. Minato and Kushina register their marriage and decide to hold off on an actual ceremony until their baby is a little bit older. Almost an entire new generation of future clan heads is born. The Uchiha plan on building a new police station right at the heart of the village. The elders are retired from the Hokage’s advisory panel. ROOT is collapsed and entirely swallowed by ANBU. Orochimaru takes in two wards of his own, following in Tsunade’s footsteps. And most importantly, on October 10^th, after six long hours of labour, Uzumaki Naruto is born.

Raijin...still isn’t around.

Minato tries not to worry about that too much. There are so many unbelievably wonderful things in his life right now that he wakes up everyday convinced he’s dreaming and he doesn't want to miss out any of them by getting caught up in his distractions. Besides, Kushina assured him that Raijin said he’d come back when he felt ready and she doesn’t seem too worried at all. Minato wants to believe her and be able to just wait for his brother too.

But every time he looks at Naruto, he can’t help but be reminded of Raijin. They look so much alike. Naruto has that inherent kind of spark to him that Raijin does too, and Minato wishes Raijin could be here to see and live this dream with him. Minato’s sure he’d love Naruto, and Naruto would almost certainly love Raijin too. His wonderful, perfect baby loves everyone after all.

Minato can’t believe how lucky he is that he got to have a hand in bringing in something so miraculous into the world or that he gets to spend the rest of his life watching Naruto grow.

Although, admittedly, he could maybe do without the screaming in the dead of night. Since Kushina has their son for so much of the day while Minato is off trying to keep the village running, he takes the night shift so she can rest and he can maintain some sort of bond with the baby too. It’s...rough. Rewarding, yes. But rough.

He sighs and slips out of bed, pausing to press a kiss to Kushina’s forehead while she snores away before struggling into his slippers and shuffling out of the bedroom, Naruto’s wails echoing off the walls of their home.

And then, just as abruptly as the crying had started, it quiets into sniffles. Minato blinks, frowning. In the nursery, Naruto makes an inquisitive sort of cooing sound. Immediately, Minato is off like a shot, bursting into the nursery with a kunai in hand and a jutsu on the tip of his tongue.

The intruder startles and whirls around, eyes wide. In his crib, Naruto babbles happily at the sight of Minato and blows a spit bubble.

Minato stares at the man who has just broken into his house to play with his baby. Raijin stares back.

Finally, clearing his throat, Raijin says, “Cool baby you got here.”

As if in agreement, Naruto lets out a gurgle that apparently entertains him into laughing at himself.

“Am I dreaming?” Minato mumbles to himself. Exhaustion leads to unusually vivid dreams sometimes according to Tsunade, and it’s not like Minato gets much sleep these days.

But Raijin’s face is softening, the line of his shoulders relaxing as he rises out of the ready stance he’d fallen into when Minato had burst into the room. “You’re not dreaming, nii-chan,” he says quietly.

Minato stares, afraid to even blink lest this turn out to be some sort of hallucination that will vanish before his eyes just like Raijin’s clone did almost five months ago. “You—” He stops, licking his lips, mouth dry. “You’re really here?”

Instead of answering, Raijin holds out his arms. Wordlessly, Minato is barrelling into him barely a second later, holding onto Raijin with a desperate need for physical confirmation that this is real and happening and it’s not a dream his brother came back he’s really here and—

“What took you so long?” Minato asks, burying his face in Raijin’s shoulder, trying to swallow past the painful lump in his throat. He tugs on his brother’s chakra until it too surrounds his own, settling around him with its enormity and endless warmth. He’s so unspeakably glad to feel it again, it actually makes his eyes burn with tears. “I waited for ages, but you never came back. Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry, nii-chan. I’ve been lost, but I’m here now. I’m home.”

“Will you stay?”

Raijin swallows. He promises, “For as long as you let me.”

Pulling away just enough to see his brother’s face, Minato commits Raijin’s likeness to memory. He'd been so afraid of forgetting; he won't ever take getting to see him for granted. “Don’t leave like that again,” he says. “Don’t go where I can’t follow after you. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

And with that, the seal that has remained dormant and disconnected for months flairs back to life, linking Minato to Raijin again, his location pinging into Minato’s awareness. Minato closes his eyes, uncaring of how it lets the tears escape them, and basks in the renewed tether.

Taking a deep breath, Raijin meets his gaze, blue eyes hardening. “I told you I couldn’t keep lying to you anymore.”

Minato eyes him back, wary. “I remember.” How could he forget? He remembers in excruciating detail the moment he let his brother slip away. Not again though. Raijin is back and this time Minato will keep him.

“Well, I meant it.” Smiling slightly, Raijin says, “I have a lot to tell you. Will you listen?”

Minato would give him the world if he could. Rip his heart out and hand it over if he asked. He squeezes Raijin and hopes his brother will see this at last.

“Of course.”

Minato stares at the seal Raijin solemnly draws for him, his brain very much refusing to understand. “This is—”

“Large scale travel through space-time,” Raijin finishes. “I found it in a vault of forbidden fuuinjutsu on Uzushiogakure. Nineteen years, five months and thirteen days from now.”

Heart dropping like a stone to his stomach, Minato says, “What?”

Raijin watches him with something unreadable on his face, head tilted. “Thousands of years ago, there was a Rabbit Goddess who ate the Chakra Fruit of the God Tree and lost her faith in humanity. She became a greedy ruler, wanting all of the world’s chakra for herself, including that of her sons’. Her children banded together and imprisoned her on the moon. Still, she waited and schemed and then, one day, she came back.”

“What does that—?”

“We weren’t prepared,” Raijin cuts him off. “She came with her army that wouldn’t stay down and they razed the world to the ground. I watched my loved ones die and get turned into these mindless inhuman constructs unless we managed to cremate them in time. There was no other way. We were standing on the brink of extinction and there was nowhere else for us to go, so I figured we may as well go back the way we came and do it right this time.”

Minato doesn’t know what to think or say to that. “You used this seal?”

“Sakura-chan and Sasuke helped me power it enough for me to land here. Kurama too, of course, because he’s just the best like that. That’s the Kyuubi’s name by the way. I am his jinchuuriki.”

Then, “Sasuke. Could it be...?”

“Uchiha Sasuke, yeah.”

Uchiha Sasuke who is currently all of five months old and is one of the fussiest babies Minato has ever met.

It feels like his head should be spinning around everything Raijin is saying, but mostly all he feels is an empty calm. “So, we’re not really related?”

Raijin fixes him with a wary stare, muscles tense. “We are related; just not the way you think. Namikaze Raijin isn’t the name I was born with.”

They tested as first generation relatives though. Raijin can only be his parent, sibling or—Minato freezes. “What is your birth name then?”

Smiling with an ironic kind of amusement, Raijin says, “Haven’t you already guessed?”

“Naruto,” Minato breathes, gaze drifting down to where Baby Naruto is drooling slightly on his own future self’s nice green kimono shirt. “You’re Naruto. You’re my son.”

Gently, Older Naruto says, “I’m also Raijin. It was a necessary mask at first, but now it’s the most fitting identity I have.” He lifts his eyebrows. “And no offense to you, but I can’t really see you as my dad anymore. You’re you. You’re just—you're my Minato-nii.”

It’s a thoughtful offer. A neat way for things to stay as where for the foreseeable future, to avoid confusion and awkwardness and unwanted questions. But. Well. It’s not very fair, is it?

“Are you sure?” he ventures. “You’re giving up your identity and everything attached to it. We can’t ask you to—”

“No, you can’t,” comes the calm agreement. “No one can. But I knew what I would have to do when I decided to use that seal. And, in the end, it’s only a name. I’m still me in every way that matters. I am still a product of my parents’ sacrifice and their hopes and dreams. I am still successor to the Rokudaime Hokage. I am still the Number One Unpredictable Knucklehead Ninja. I am still Uzumaki Naruto. And I am still Namikaze Raijin.”

There’s a feeling Minato gets around people he knows are meant for big, world-changing things. People who inspire awe without trying, simply by being and carrying forward the magnitude of their dreams and legacies. The Sannin have that effect. The current Raikage. Hanzo of the Salamander. He sees a spark of the flame it will become in Obito. In Itachi. In Kakashi’s loud green friend—Gai. And he sees it, brighter than ever, like a raging inferno or a miniature star, in Raijin.

Suddenly it all makes sense.

“You're the child of the prophecy. You saved us,” he says.

Raijin inclines his head and shrugs. “I did my best anyways.”

“Even though it cost you everything?”

At this, he purses his lips and looks to the dining table they are seated at, cheek coming to rest lightly against the soft fuzz of Naruto’s hair. “I’m not going to lie—it sucked way more than you can imagine,” Raijin says after a moment. “I had to give up everything. Lose all that was ever mine; all that I had ever known. It sucked that I had to pay the price over and over again. That the price was my entire life—my past and my future. And I know I chose to give it up. I spent months asking, 'why me?' Asking, 'what about me?'”

“And?” Minato prompts quietly.

“And I don’t regret it despite all that. It gave the entire world a second chance. I may have lost my loved ones but, this way, I’ve also given them a better shot at life in a safer world. You still being alive and around to raise this baby Naruto is proof of that.” Smiling almost helplessly, Raijin shakes his head. “How could I ever not think that it was worth it?”

Minato exhales under the enormous weight of those simple words, reaching out to take one of Raijin’s hands in his own and squeezing. “You are a gift bestowed upon us,” he says seriously. Raijin blinks, startled, and Minato squeezes his hand again. “A blessing. Thank you for choosing to come here. Thank you for saving us.”

Raijin swallows visibly, eyes wide. “Of course,” he says, and it comes out cracking and wet. “Of course, I came.”

“And thank you for coming back to me in the end too.”

Teeth digging into the flesh of his bottom lip, Raijin finally allows a cautious sort of hope to bleed onto his face. It makes him look young. Minato is reminded that the young man before him is only twenty-one.

“I’m sorry I had to lie to you so much.”

“It’s okay,” Minato says. He isn’t sure yet how he feels about that to be honest, but Raijin doesn’t need to hear that right now.

Glancing at him through his lashes for a moment, Raijin says, “I know I said that you don’t really feel like my dad, and I don’t want you to be either. I’ve never really had a dad anyways.” Hesitant, he says, “I did have a brother though.”

Minato almost doesn’t dare to breathe. Quietly, he says, “You still do. If you’d like that, I mean.”

“I would,” Raijin says, smile trembling on his lips, eyes going glassy with tears of a relief so palpable, it bleeds into his chakra and knocks into Minato with all the force of a tidal wave. “We’re still brothers?”

And this at least Minato does know the answer to. “Nothing is ever going to change that.”

“I’d wondered about that.” Raijin closes his eyes, gently readjusting his hold on Naruto. “When I was away, I kept thinking about how I could ever move on when all I wanted was to go back to a home I didn’t have anymore. It was unbearably lonely, feeling as though I had nowhere to go and no one waiting for me. Except I did. I had you. I was always afraid to believe it because of how much I couldn’t tell you and I could never be sure how you would take me deceiving you like this, but—”

This poor boy. This wonderful, beautiful, pitiful boy. His boy.

Minato reaches out to gently swipe a tear away from under Raijin’s eye, fingertips carefully stroking the whisker marks on his cheeks. “How did you ever manage to bear all this, Raijin?”

Raijin looks at him helplessly, leaning into his hand and saying, half-desperate, “I don’t know where to put it down.”

He thinks that if he listened carefully enough, he would hear his own heart breaking.

“Let me help you bear it then,” Minato says. Requests. “You’ve given the world more than it ever had any right to ask of you. Someone should take care of you too. Let it be me.”

“Nii-chan—”

“I would bear your every burden for you if you’d let me, Raijin,” Minato interrupts, needing the other man to finally see. “If you wanted, I’d go anywhere with you. I would look after you.”

Biting his lip, Raijin visibly swallows his own tears. “It won’t be easy. I’m still kind of a mess. Still kind of lost.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll do it anyway.”

“Just like that?”

“You’re my brother,” Minato replies, as though that solves everything.

And it does.

Chapter Text

Raijin is instructed to stay within the confines of the Hokage estate until Minato can sort out the last of the legalities surrounding his return to the village. His brother doesn’t want him to get caught up in even a lick of conflict from the warmongering factions who are bitter about losing their biggest figurehead to treachery of all things.

It’s not like any of them will pose a challenge to Raijin should they try anything, but maybe that’s part of the problem. It’d reflect badly on him and the Namikaze clan if he kills any more politicians. Besides, Minato seems like he needs to be able to do things for Raijin as if to prove some sort of point, so he lets his big brother have this one and agrees to laying low for a few days. He can be on his best behaviour for a little bit if it makes Minato happy.

Kushina is positively delighted by this. Not only does she get to smother her favourite brother-in-law in much deserved love and affection, she also gets a live-in babysitter for free, and she has no compunctions about utilising his services (though he never offered them) so she can have a day to herself to get in some neglected training—a luxury she hasn’t quite gotten since Naruto was born.

So, here he is now, babysitting...himself, technically.

Raijin stares at Naruto blankly, not knowing what to think. The baby shrieks happily and waves his fist at him, blowing a raspberry that sends spittle of the milk Raijin is trying to feed him everywhere.

Captain Yamato had once confessed to him during one of the rare quieter moments in their war camp that Raijin himself had been a rather quiet baby from when Yamato had been added to his ANBU guard roster. Raijin hadn’t been surprised, though it had been a bitter thought. Of course he’d been a quiet baby. He probably realised early on that there was no point in him crying—no one would be coming. His caretakers had hated him for being the container of the Nine Tails’ even then. It’s the biggest reason he was left to live on his own at such a young age; it was simply safer for him than the alternative was looking.

This Naruto isn’t like that though. He’s an expressive kid, wearing his heart on his sleeve because it is safe for him to do so. He’s a well of energy—bright and rambunctious even now. He likes the sound of his own laughter and he loves other people, basking in attention.

Raijin is glad. It’s good to see the obvious fruits of the seeds he painstakingly planted. This is the childhood he should have always been allowed to have, and now, Naruto will have it. He will grow up healthy and loved, surrounded by people who care for him and are allowed to show it. There will always be a home for him to come to, people waiting for him, reaching out whenever he wants a hand to hold.

And, strange as it is, Raijin will be one of those people too.

Maybe his life has just been one giant cosmic allegory for self-love all along?

Little Naruto seems to like him well enough at least. Like most babies, he’s drawn to the blanketing nature and warmth of Raijin’s chakra, though he also probably likes the undercurrent of Kurama’s chakra that bleeds into Raijin’s because it feels similar to Kushina's to the baby.

Interestingly enough, Raijin finds that the absence of the Kyuubi’s chakra in Naruto makes their chakra signatures just a little different from each other’s too. Where Raijin’s is like an encompassing void of afternoon-seasalt-storm-starburst, Naruto feels like dawn-spindrift-tempest-sunbeam. Like a tamer, less intense version of Raijin’s signature. He hadn’t realised that Kurama being sealed into him altered his chakra to any such degree, but he supposes it makes sense.

Exposure to the Kyuubi’s chakra from birth was bound to have all sorts of unintended effects.

At least it’s convenient that they won’t have to come up with an explanation for why Naruto and Raijin have identical chakra signatures. The similarity can just be passed off on account of their being related to one another.

Yet another thing he owes Kurama for.

But the similarity might also be a factor in Naruto taking an immediate shine to him. Or, equally as likely, the baby just might not have any sense of stranger danger just yet.

Raijin feeds Naruto the rest of his lunch before burping him and cleaning up the mess they’d made in the kitchen. By the time he’s done, Naruto is blinking slowly and yawning.

“Is it time for your nap?” Raijin asks, gently stroking a whiskered cheek that is the same as his.

Naruto smiles bleary-eyed at him, grabbing hold of his finger and immediately trying to stick it in his mouth. Raijin chuckles and thwarts the attempt by lightly poking Naruto between the eyes, much to the child’s apparent confusion. He is quickly distracted by another yawn. Raijin yawns back. They stare at each other.

“I think it’s time for my nap too,” Raijin admits sheepishly. Naruto nods at him seriously.

At least they’ll always be in agreement over the big things like this. The uncle and nephew both go to sleep.

As soon as he’s allowed to leave the Hokage estate, Raijin embarks on a mission to meet someone he owes an important apology to.

From across the kotetsu table, Itachi’s large eyes remain fixed on him, everything about his demeanour hesitant and uncertain. They have been left alone in the informal sitting room out of respect for the relationship they share, though Raijin has no real expectations of privacy. In a shinobi household like this, it may as well be a myth.

“I wanted to personally apologise to you, Itachi-kun,” Raijin says softly, not bothering to conceal the remorse he feels. “I was irresponsible to leave without a word. As your teacher, it was a grave disrespect to our relationship, and very unfair of me to do to you. For that, I am deeply sorry.”

Itachi looks supremely uncomfortable to have an adult—one of his personal authority figures at that—apologising to him so seriously. He shrinks a little on himself. “It’s fine,” he dismisses hurriedly. “You didn’t need to say that to me specifically. Shishou already apologised to my parents. That was enough.”

Smiling wryly, Raijin shakes his head. “I disagree, Itachi-kun. I apologised to your parents as a formality, sure, but the person I really owe my remorse to is you. I’m sorry I left like that. I didn’t mean to abandon you. I just—wasn’t thinking very clearly at the time.”

Itachi shifts slightly. “My mother said you killed Shimura Danzou because he hurt you in the past.”

Raijin considers this. “He did,” he settles on eventually. “He also harmed people I cared about. And then he went after Shisui-kun too. I...felt I had to do something about it before it was too late. And then I felt like I wouldn’t be able to stay here because of what I did. Ah, this isn’t an excuse by the way. My actions did wrong you. I’m just trying to explain why I did what I did.”

“I understand, shishou,” Itachi says softly. His fingers curl into loose fists on the wooden surface of the table. “I’m sorry the traitor hurt you.”

Sadly, Raijin says, “Me too.” This Itachi will never know that, in another life, it is he who becomes arguably one of the biggest victims of Danzou’s machinations. “He’s gone now though. He will never harm anyone again.”

“You killed him.”

“I did,” Raijin agrees evenly.

Itachi hesitates. His gaze darts from his fingers to Raijin and back. “Did it—” He pauses. Tries again. “Was it worth it?”

“Revenge, you mean?” he clarifies. Itachi nods slowly and Raijin closes his eyes, thinking it over. “It didn’t feel like revenge, to be honest,” he says. “Mostly, I just felt desperate. Like if I didn’t stop him then, someone else I cared about would get hurt. Shisui or Kakashi or Obito or you. Vengeance wasn’t on my mind until I’d already killed him.”

Blinking, Itachi says, “Oh.” He ducks his head. “Do you feel better now, though? Since he’s...gone?”

“I do,” Raijin admits frankly. “I don’t have to worry that my loved ones will have to face harm in the village where they should be safe. It’s a safer place for you and Naruto to grow up in too. I’m glad he’s finally gone.”

“Okay,” Itachi says. “I’ll forgive you then.”

Raijin blinks. “What?”

The boy lets his hair fall into his face, almost hiding behind it. “It seems like something you needed to do,” he murmurs. “Since you feel better having done it, I’ll forgive you, so please don’t feel bad or apologise anymore.”

“Oh, Itachi-kun,” Raijin says softly, feeling like he could melt right into the nice tatami mats of the Uchiha main house. “You’re such a kind child.” Itachi visibly flushes and Raijin smiles, reaching to brush his chakra against his student’s affectionately. “Thank you for forgiving me.”

Quietly, Itachi says, “Thank you for coming back.”

“Of course I did, kiddo,” Raijin says, feeling warm when Itachi’s chakra gently curls into his. “I always will.”

Tentatively, Itachi smiles at him, softly admitting, “I’m glad. I...missed you.”

“Me too,” Raijin confesses honestly. “I have a few ideas for when we renew our lessons. Would you like to hear them?”

Itachi brightens. “Yes, please.”

Being openly regarded as a hero of the village is nice. No one too important is really mad about him killing off Danzou after all the dude’s dirty laundry gets aired out. Minato helps Raijin make a public apology anyways, assuring everyone that he would serve his sentence and seek counselling with Tsunade to make sure he doesn’t ‘lose control’ like that again. It boosts his own image and also propels the therapy programme, so it’s one of those two birds with one stone things.

In reality, Tsunade is let in on the whole time travelling secret so that Raijin can get professional help with processing all of that and settling into the rest of his life. And it does help. Talking to another person about his past and his loss—especially Tsunade who has always tried to do right by him as much as she has been able—feels like a massive weight lifted off his chest.

He doesn’t have to keep holding on by himself anymore. It’s immensely liberating. He can fall and stumble as much as he likes, and there will be people waiting to catch and help him back onto his feet.

He starts his community service too. Completely free of chakra usage just as the law demands. It starts out as voluntary work for the two clans put in charge of watching over him. He helps out at the homeless shelter and kitchen the Akimichi clan runs, helping with serving and stocking and whatever else is asked of him.

Meanwhile, the Uchiha stick him in the archives and have him sort through the piles and piles of reports to separate which ones ought to be moved to the new headquarters. It’s not as boring as it could’ve been. Every now and then he’ll stumble upon an interesting case and it’s almost like reading a mystery novel. Only, you know, with real life murder.

And then, somehow, it devolves into part-time babysitting. Naturally, Sasuke is to blame.

Itachi likes to join him whenever he’s in the archives because a) he likes Raijin and b) he likes looking through records. And wherever Itachi goes, more often than not, Sasuke follows.

Sasuke is already notorious in the village for being the fussiest little bundle of horrors ever. He has massive dark eyes, the tiniest button nose and wispy tufts of black hair, and you’d think all that would make him adorable, except that he scowls at everything that isn’t Itachi or his mom. He tolerates Fugaku, and that’s a fairly generous statement too.

Itachi adores him. Carries him everywhere whenever Mikoto has clan duties to attend to, patiently feeds him no matter how much of a fight Sasuke puts up, always whispers softly and coos at the baby.

Now, Raijin is usually great with kids and he has enough experience with babies to not accidentally kill hem or something, but Sasuke makes him wary. He’s so difficult and flaily and supremely judgemental; all traits he had as a grown-up too, but with a lot less wailing and dangerous squirming involved.

Sasuke clearly does not get the memo. From the moment his beady little eyes manage to focus on Raijin, he wants the man to hold him because he’s a contrarian this time round too. He shrieks bloody murder in the archives, high-pitched voice echoing off the walls, almost wriggling right out of Itachi’s hold in trying to reach for Raijin.

“What is wrong with him?” Raijin asks alarmed, arms awkwardly raised to catch any falling children while Itachi tries to coax his brother into calming down. If this is Sasuke trying to convince Raijin to hold him, he’s doing a seriously bad job. Minato has spent all of Sunday morning ranting about his own mishap trying to hold Sasuke after the boy was born and, safe to say, it has stuck with Raijin. He does not want to be the moron who accidentally killed one of the Uchiha heirs by dropping him on his head or something.

“I think he wants you to hold him because your chakra feels warm,” Itachi says, straining against Sasuke’s attempts to escape his brother. “Will you please take him, shishou? I might drop him like this.”

Raijin bites his tongue and does not say “Better you than me” to his precious student because he’s a grown and responsible adult, thank you very much. Instead, with the air of a man being marched to his own execution, he holds his arms out and carefully extracts Sasuke from Itachi’s grasp before the baby can plunge to his own early demise.

“I guess you were just born with a terrible personality,” he observes, lifting Sasuke to be at eye level.

As if in response, Sasuke’s tiny face scrunches into a scowl as he swipes at Raijin’s face, trying to grab his nose.

Snorting, Raijin lowers him so he can cradle him against his chest, watching as the baby settles down immediately once he can feel Raijin’s chakra, peering up at the man almost contemplatively.

“He’s totally judging my worth as a person,” Raijin states.

Itachi shuffles awkwardly, looking almost sheepish. “He’s very...exclusive.”

“He’s a burgeoning menace to society,” Raijin corrects. He would know, after all. If Sasuke has managed to stress anyone out into nearing an early grave, it’s Raijin.

Sasuke, of course, only looks perfectly pleased with himself.

He throws a fit when it’s time for Raijin to clock out and go back home, screaming his little head off when Kushina drops by to pick her brother-in-law up for their lunch date. And then Sasuke seems to realise that Naruto gets to be held by Raijin for indefinite lengths of time and manages to scream even louder which, for some reason, inspires Naruto to start screaming along for nothing but his own entertainment and that just seems to piss Sasuke off even more, resulting in a vicious cycle that threatens the hearing of everyone in the vicinity.

Needless to say, it’s an all round nightmare.

“I guess Sasuke is getting added to your collection,” Shisui notes dispassionately, leaning against Raijin’s side as they watch Mikoto try to calm her youngest down to no avail.

Raijin swats the boy’s head without even looking. “Don’t go around saying strange things.”

“It’s true though,” Shisui protests, pouting up at him. “Obito-san, Itachi, me, and now, Sasuke. You’ve got an even set now.”

The blond stares at him with open horror on his face. “Stop saying stuff right now,” he demands. “This is the last thing I need.”

“Hey! We’re absolutely delightful!”

Raijin pointedly looks to where Sasuke’s tiny face is red from his tantrum, the baby sniffling with snot and tears on his face, having finally run out of steam. Naruto seems to think this means he has won whatever game he imagined they were playing in his little head because he’s clapping and looking very happy with himself.

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair,” Shisui concedes.

But watching over Sasuke and Itachi while their parents are busy with the move is apparently enough of a public service by the Uchiha’s standards that it counts towards his hours, so at least it’s not all bad.

The Akimichi find out somehow, as they always do. People talk while having meals and the Akimichi are excellent listeners; they know all the village gossip. So Raijin gets saddled with looking after a baby Chouji, who unfortunately comes in package deal with the young Nara and Yamanaka heirs on most days.

Maybe he should just run away again. He’ll take his family along with him this time, which means Team 7 will naturally tag along too. Shisui would come because he’d find it funny, Sakura and Sasuke would be easy for him to kidnap and Itachi would just follow after his baby brother.

It’s a fool proof plan!

It is Minato’s request that Raijin work with the other healers and sealing experts working on undoing Danzou’s disgusting seal that is placed on every ROOT operative’s tongue.

Raijin suspects that his brother involved him in the matter from a publicity point of view. It’s a good way to rinse the blood off Raijin’s reputation and really establish him as a hero for dismantling ROOT so thoroughly, especially since they don’t correct the village-wide assumption of him having a history of being a runaway experiment or something.

It bothers him a little that the lie of omission garners him a bunch of unwarranted pity, but he’s quick to forget all about it when he realises that this is his chance to help out Captain Yamato who isn’t even Yamato right now, and is instead known by the name he’d received from Danzou—Kinoe.

“Tsunade-san said I could pick a new name for myself if I’d like to. A lot of the ROOT agents have to establish new identities,” Kinoe says quietly, watching while Raijin packs up his sealing tools after the ROOT seal is nullified.

“And is that what you want to do?” Raijin asks kindly.

“I...am unsure.”

Shrugging, the older shinobi says, “I totally get you. Names can feel like a big deal, especially when you have to pick out a new one for yourself.” He already has the existential crisis and subsequent therapy to show for it. “But, you know, if you don’t like it, you can just pick another one. There’s no right answer for this sort of thing. Just do whatever feels best to you.” With a wink, he adds, “For what it’s worth, you look like a Tenzou to me.”

Later, Kakashi finds him on his balcony and dutifully informs him, “You have no sense of subtlety.”

Raijin snorts at the boy. “I fooled all of you, didn’t I?”

“And kami knows how you managed it. Tenzou? Seriously?”

“It is his real name, you know” Raijin rolls his eyes.

“That isn’t the point.”

“Then what is, Kashi-kun?”

Silence. Kakashi stares at him with a little furrow between his brows and tension in the line of his shoulders. Then, “Will you tell, Obito?”

Ah. Raijin sighs and turns away, returning his gaze to the horizon. “Why do you ask?” He suspects why, but he waits for Kakashi to broach the subject himself. These genius types need to feel in control in vulnerable situations, Raijin has learned the hard way over the years.

“I don’t think it would do him any good,” Kakashi admits, sounding almost ashamed.

Raijin hums. “You don’t think he deserves to know anyway?”

“It’s not about deserving to know, it’s—” Kakashi huffs. “He’s not that person. You saved him from that stupid cave, so he’s never going to become that man. What’s the point of telling him and punishing him for stuff he hasn’t done?”

“It’s not a punishment, Kashi-kun,” Raijin says patiently. “But you’re right about Obito never becoming that man. His subsequent formative experiences are too different. Just like you.”

Glancing at him narrowly, Kakashi asks, voice even, “Does that bother you? The fact that I’m nothing like your sensei, I mean.”

Raijin inclines his head and considers this. “Not really,” he decides after a moment. “I mean, I totally miss Kakashi-sensei, don’t get me wrong. But my sensei was a deeply damaged, incredibly lonely and guarded man shaped by loss after loss. I’m glad you won’t have to become him. “ Smiling, he adds, “Besides, you are like him in the ways that matter. You’re just as smart, resourceful, loyal and kind as he had been. That’s good enough for me.”

“And Obito?”

Raijin closes his eyes. “Even in my future, Obito’s primary motivation had been loss born out of love.” Opening his eyes, he fixes them on Kakashi. “There is always potential for you guys to turn out like you did in my future, Kashi-kun. Those people used to be you, after all. If you’d had their experiences, you would literally walk the same road. But the fact is that you didn’t, and so here we are.”

Kakashi’s jaw tenses. “You think Obito would get that if you told him?”

For a long moment, Raijin studies the young jounin before him. Then, knowingly, he says, “You’re scared he will blame you for Rin’s death just as he did in my timeline.”

It looks like Kakashi might fight the claim for a second, muscles winding up as though preparing for an argument, but then the fight is leaving his body just as quickly as it came and he’s slumping against the railing, looking very much like the teenage boy he is. “He might,” he says weakly. “I did fail both of them.”

Raijin stares blankly. Does Kakashi’s guilt complex seriously extend to shit he supposedly did in an alternate timeline too? “Okay, first of all, no. Rin is very much alive and thriving, and you haven’t failed anyone. Neither did Kakashi-sensei, who was a young shinobi in a very tough position and had to watch his friend kill herself to protect the village. Unless he could see the future, there was very little he could have done to save her. Obito’s grief and trauma prevented him from seeing that, and he was also actively being manipulated while in isolation and captivity for years. It was just a shitty situation all around but Kakashi-sensei wasn’t at fault, and you most certainly aren’t either. Do you understand?”

Hesitantly, Kakashi nods and ducks his head, avoiding the piercing blue eyes trying to stare right into his soul. Raijin eyes the boy critically before deciding he’ll come back to this later and really hammer it home no matter how many times he has to say it.

“As for Obito-kun,” he continues for now, “I don’t know if I’m going to tell him or not. Maybe some day when he’s a little older and better at keeping secrets. Obito-kun thinks very highly and fondly of you Kakashi; you’re one of his most precious people. Even so, however, if he ever tries to give you shit for supposedly letting Rin die in an alternate universe, you tell me and I’ll set him straight immediately. You guys had enough angst from that conflict for one lifetime. I am not living through the same drama again.”

Huffing a reluctant laugh, Kakashi rolls his eyes. “Sure,” he says, “whatever. Do what you want.”

He doesn’t say ‘Thank you.’ Raijin smiles and ruffles his hair anyway, knocking their shoulders together.

They watch the sun set on another day together.

By the time Rin arrives to the training ground, her teammates are already covered in dirt and wrestling like children on the ground while Raijin’s foxes excitedly try to smother them indiscriminately in excited affection and copious amounts of fur.

She snorts and shakes her head at them, skirting around the mess and going off to the side where Raijin is seated on the ground, occupied with scribbling in a little brown notebook. He looks up when he senses her approach, face breaking into a pleasant smile. She wonders if he hasn’t noticed the stain of baby formula on his soft blue haori or if he just doesn’t care.

“Hello, Rin-chan!” he greets, waving. “Haven’t seen you around since I returned. Congratulations on making jounin. Sorry I wasn’t around to see it happen myself.”

She beams back at him, her new jounin vest a pleasant weight on her shoulders. “Thanks, Raijin-san. Do you mind if I sit with you?” He shakes his head, patting the space beside him in an invitation she is quick to accept. “What were you doing?”

“Oh, this?” He runs a finger down the worn spine of the notebook. “I’ve kind of gotten into the habit of recording happy moments like this. So I can always look back on them if I ever feel like I’m forgetting.”

Rin blinks. “Like a diary?”

“Sure!” Absently, Raijin twirls his pen on the tips of his fingers. “I lost all my loved ones before I came here, you know, and I don’t think I ever really stopped and took the time to mourn them until I...ran away, I guess. And then I totally freaked out because I couldn’t remember all the things I used to be able to recall about them so easily, so I started writing it all down before I forgot even more, and now it’s kind of a habit.”

She hums, considering this. In the background, a large black fox drops itself decisively on Obito’s face.

“How did you manage to move on from something like that?” she asks quietly, threading her fingers through the blades of glass. “When we thought Obito-kun was dead, it felt like the world stopped turning in the blink of an eye. I don’t know how Kakashi-kun and I would have kept going if you hadn’t brought Obito back.”

Raijin makes a vague sound in his throat and shrugs. “You would have learned to live with it eventually,” he says knowingly. “Life doesn't stop happening even when it feels like it does. I guess you could try and stay stuck in the same place but nothing is going to stop and wait around for you. There will always be another tomorrow whether you like it or not. Standing still was never an option for me anyway. It’s hard, but I live every day for them. Because of them.”

“Even when it feels like nothing is worth it?” Rin asks, mostly out of curiosity.

Half-smiling, Raijin tilts his head. “What does worth have to do with living?”

Rin doesn’t know what to say to that. “But doesn’t it make you afraid?”

“Afraid of?” Raijin prompts.

She shrugs. “Dying. Living. Loss. After Obito, I was terrified I’d end up losing Kakashi and Minato-sensei too. Did you never fear that letting someone else in would just mean more potential grief down the line?”

If she’d been in his position, Rin doesn’t think she would have been strong enough to carry on. Raijin lost every single one of his friends according to Kakashi, but he has still found it within himself to not only move on, but to forge new bonds too, even though he has to know that their shinobi lifestyle makes it that much more likely that he’ll lose someone else again.

But he’s smiling now and shaking his head. “Everyone dies eventually, Rin-chan. My teacher used to call it just another way to pass the time. It’s inevitable, and I suppose it’s natural to fear what you don’t know or understand, but—” He pauses, thinking. “It might depend from person to person, I guess, but I think we are all unavoidably drawn to love. Wired to crave it even against our will sometimes. It’s always possible that something will go wrong, but I think most of us end up wanting to take that risk anyways. If you isolate yourself, hide from the world and from love, make it so you know no one and no none knows you, will you truly have existed?”

“Of course!”

“But there will be no lasting proof.” Raijin’s smile softens around the edges as he looks to the far end of the training field where the rest of the Namikaze family is just arriving. “We are seen and heard and known and, therefore, we exist,” he says quietly. “This too is love.”

Rin stares. “Oh.”

Turning to her with light dancing in his eyes, Raijin says, “As for living on; it’s not much of a choice if you know you don’t want to die, but it’s not nearly as complicated as some people make it out to be either. I’ll let you in on a secret, Rin-chan: there’s no great meaning or secret to existence. We are not placed here for some divine higher purpose. We simply are. Morality and worth don’t really have anything to do with it—they’re constructs of civilisation, and they have their place, sure, but this isn’t one of them. Whoever you are, whatever you have lived through, the world will offer itself to you. You can hide yourself and try to miss a day or even a year, but there will always be more. The sun will keep rising, the hills will still be there, the trees will keep bearing fruit. You don’t have to be good for that. You don’t have to need to have any answers. You just have to allow yourself to love what you love without abandon.”

Blinking hard, Rin laughs, a little out of breath from just listening. “Maybe you should become a philosopher, Raijin-san. You’d be good at it.”

Raijin laughs at that too, throwing his head back as he does. “Maybe,” he agrees. “Did that get a bit too complicated for you?”

“A little bit,” she admits, scratching at her cheek.

Humming, Raijin turns to watch as his foxes chase Rin’s teammates around much to Kushina’s delight which in turn delights Naruto. Minato looks fondly exasperated s he calls for everyone to be careful like they aren’t all seasoned shinobi.

“It’s simple really,” Raijin says. He’s smiling again, though it doesn’t seem like he realises it. “You’ll give me half of your pain, and I will give you half of mine. Like this, we will have loved, and so, we will have lived."

Meanwhile, the world goes on.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you have everything?” Kushina asks for the umpteenth time, levelling Naruto with a serious frown. “You didn’t forget to pack extra underwear this time, right? What about your toothbrush? Did you remember to take a pair of socks just in case? Amegakure is colder than Land of Fire, you know. Wouldn’t want you to fall sick just because you forgot socks.”

From the genkan, Sasuke snorts and poorly smothers his snickers behind a cough. Sakura elbows him harshly, but her lips are twitching too.

Naruto groans and struggles into his sandals double time. The faster he gets ready to leave, the sooner the embarrassment will end. “I have everything, mom,” he assures, scowling as he yanks at the sandal harshly. “I’m not a baby anymore.”

Kushina sighs, hand at her cheek as she watches him run a final check of his belongings. “No, I suppose you aren’t,” she agrees softly, stepping up to gently swipe some leftover crumbs off his cheek and straighten out the collar of his haori. “When did you get so big, hmm?” she asks, grinning as she pinches his cheek.

“Mom,” Naruto whines, going limp when Kushina manhandles him into a bone-crushing hug. “We’re gonna be late.”

“Oh, alright, alright.” With a final kiss to the cheek, she reluctantly releases him from her clutches and turns to address the pair of genin waiting at her door. “Now, you kids be good and look after each other, alright? Don’t let any of the other genin push you around. Ace these exams and show them who’s boss!”

“We will, Kushina-san,” Sakura promises, beaming.

Sasuke nods his own agreement, eyes gleaming in anticipation.

Naruto grins, hopping off the genkan and bouncing to the door, hitai-ate secured to his forehead and backpack thumping against his back. “That goes without saying. Team 7 is the best after all!” He adds a final wave over his shoulder, already halfway out the door. “We’ll be off now!”

“Good luck!”

Sakura giggles as soon as the door closes behind them, clasping her hands behind her back. “Your mom seems cheerful as ever, Naruto,” she notes.

“She said she’d make ramen when I get back,” Naruto informs smugly, all but skipping down the road.

“Kushina-san’s ramen is really good,” Sakura says thoughtfully. “My dad said he’d treat me to katsudon if we pass.”

“Which we obviously will,” Sasuke states, sniffing imperiously.

Nodding enthusiastically, Naruto agrees, “Obviously! We trained our butts off for this. When we come back, we’re totally gonna be chuunin!”

“Yeah!” Sakura pumps her fist in the air. “I can’t wait till we get our vests.”

“I can’t wait till we don’t have to do D-ranks anymore,” Sasuke mutters, shuddering at just the mention.

Naruto makes a face and fights off a shiver off his own. “I still can’t believe Kakashi-nii had us set that stupid record.”

It is a particularly sore spot for the three genin and their mood takes a predictable dip at the mention, a shroud of grimness settling over them that is unusual for most twelve-year-olds. To be fair, those other twelve-year-olds probably never got tricked by their jounin sensei into breaking the village record for most D-ranks completed by a genin cell.

Incidentally, Kakashi himself had been the holder of the previous record, though it doesn't seem like his students appreciate his passing down of this particular torch.

“Sensei really is a demon,” Sakura grimaces, green eyes shadowed.

“Maybe we should try luring him to the big shrine for an exorcism again,” Sasuke suggests. “The priest told me he sensed weird spiritual energy from Kakashi-sensei last time.”

 Naruto whistles. “I've always known Kakashi-nii is kind of weird, but to think it might be something supernatural.”

“Well, boys, I think we know the first mission we’ll take as chuunin,” Sakura announces grandly.

Exchanging devious smiles, Team 7 marches onward.

“Stop sending your damn brother to my village,” Yondaime Raikage A says as soon as the Kage of all the gathered shinobi villages have been escorted to a more private setting, crossing his arms and looking openly disgruntled. “He’s a bad influence on B.”

The only people who look bewildered are the various Kage escorts and guards. The Kage themselves only look vaguely amused or sympathetic. After all, they have all come in contact with Raijin at some point or the other since Minato’s brother took up an ambassador position for Konoha.

Minato, for his part, is unbothered as he sips at his tea. “Is that so?”

A scowls. “Send someone else if you have to.”

Shrugging, Minato makes a noncommittal sound. “Raijin is the best person for the job.” No one else has quite as much talent for bullying powerful and stubborn shinobi into maintaining peaceful relations. Besides, Raijin was personally involved in negotiating a lot of their village’s newest peace treaties—his knowledge on the village leaders’ temperament, strengths and weaknesses is pretty indispensable in knowing how to appeal to them.

“Oh my, Namikaze,” Yondaime Mizukage Karatachi Yagura grins, “is this nepotism at play?”

“Of course,” Minato drawls dryly. “In fact, I intend on making my twelve-year-old son the Hokage as soon as we get back to Konohagakure.”

Kazekage Rasa, who has met Naruto, snorts and closely avoids choking on a laugh. “Shall I retire and let Gaara take the mantle as well? They’d have a peer at the Summit at least.”

“Not like not having a peer has stopped some people,” Yagura comments, glancing narrowly at Tsuchikage Onoki—the only village leader here who belongs to the previous generation of Kage—before aiming a disingenuous smile at the old man who glares at him immediately. “Is retirement just not a concept you have ever been introduced to, Onoki-san?”

Onoki huffs and looks about five seconds away from blowing his fuse. “Just you wait, boy!” he snaps. “I’m going to outlive you and be at your funeral, and then we will see who's laughing.”

“My mother always did say that weeds are tougher to kill,” Yagura muses thoughtfully, unbothered and unrepentant. "Even the Pure Lands don't want you."

Onoki lets out a wordless screech that clearly fascinates the Mizukage because Yagura only doubles down on needling the elder shinobi even further.

At Minato’s side, Obito looks openly baffled. “Is it always like this?” he asks, leaning over to whisper to Minato.

Kakashi is a lot less subtle as he surveys the squabble with distaste apparent in his body language. “They’re worse than Academy brats.”

Minato chuckles, shrugging helplessly at Obito. “The Yondaime Mizukage has a…unique temperament.”

“He’s a sadistic bastard,” Rasa supplies calmly, having overheard the interaction from his seat beside Minato’s. “Thankfully, there’s no one else quite like him.”

Although judging from the open intrigue on the face of the redhead kunoichi who is rumoured to be Yagura’s apprentice and successor, there is still time for Yagura to raise someone into following his footsteps as a menace to society.

“Well, you have to learn to deal with all sorts of people if you want the job,” Minato says diplomatically. “Think of this as a precursor.”

Obito does not look particularly reassured though he leans back to resume his position at Minato’s back.

Before anything else can be said or a proper fight can break out, the doors to the lounge open once more to admit Hanzo of the Salamander and the three young leaders of the Akatsuki.

“The first round of the exam has begun,” Konan informs. “We’ll announce the second round after and then break for lunch.”

“What have you chosen to do for the second round?” A inquires, peering over at the leaders of Amegakure.

“Ordinarily, we’d reveal it to you ahead of time, but,” Nagato glances at Rasa and Minato, “considering certain participants this year, you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Looking distinctly unsatisfied with this, A crosses his massive arms and frowns. “I don’t see why all of us must be kept in the dark just because the Kazekage and Hokage’s children are involved this year,” he grumbles.

“Because then the rest of you would throw a fit about us being unfair and it’d be a headache to deal with all of that,” Yahiko supplies plainly, rolling his eyes. Konan plants her elbow in his ribs and effectively knocks the breath out of her teammate without batting an eye while Nagato poorly disguises his snort behind a cough.

Yagura pouts. “Their kids might not even make it to the second round of the exams, and then we will have waited for nothing.”

Rasa furrows his brows. “They will make it,” he states.

Considering that all three of the man’s children have entered as one team, it’s no surprise for him to claim as much. Minato can relate if only because he doesn’t want to think about how Team 7 might let out their steam after failing. Naruto and his friends are a delightful little band of absolute terrors. Minato had been right when he’d feared the birth of the current generation of genin all those years ago; as much as he likes all the kids and their endless potential, they absolutely are a thorn in his side.

“It’s only a few more hours until we find out anyways,” the Hokage offers, braving a placating smile. Truly, every gathering of the Kage is a trying of his patience unlike any other. “I’m sure we can all find something to occupy ourselves with until then.”

On principle, A scowls. “You are suggesting we waste time?”

“Do you have any other ideas?” Minato asks patiently.

The Raikage scowls harder but remains silent. Minato smiles back sweetly. Onoki hides a snort behind a sip of his tea.

Yagura drums his fingers on the table and inclines his head, pink eyes drifting over to fix themselves on Minato, who absolutely does not still in the hopes that the man will look away and not bother him. Now that the Kage have met up and worked together enough to discard formalities in private, Minato has learned that a bored Yagura is a dangerous one.

“Say, Namikaze-san,” Yagura begins, mouth twitching up into a mischievous smile, “if A-san can’t appreciate your brother’s services, Kiri is always happy to host him, you know.”

Minato blinks slowly. “I, uh, see. Thank you for the offer.”

Yagura quirks his head. “Of course,” he says brightly. “I’m just looking out for my subordinates. Utakata-kun really seems to miss Raijin-san.”

Standing behind the Mizukage, Terumi Mei snorts hard and claps a hand over her face to smother the laugh.

“What the fuck?” Obito whispers into the ensuing silence.

The sentiment resonates hard with Minato who stares at Yagura almost helplessly. “I’ll…keep that in mind when it’s time for Raijin’s next assignment.”

“You do that.”

At least A finally looks like he isn’t completely miserable as he peers between the two young Kage.

Kakashi, similarly, is distantly amused as he says, “It’s like a dark comedy of some sort.”

“It’s not funny,” Obito hisses back at his husband.

“I mean, it’s kind of funny,” Kakashi argues.

Completely unprompted, Hanzo inserts himself into the conversation to declare, “Raijin is a fine shinobi. He has lived up well to the title I bestowed upon him.”

Onoki’s eyes narrow. “That was you?”

“Indeed. I’d like to spar with him again.”

Obito whispers, horrified, “Oh my god.”

Minato, bravely, does not cry. His brother created this mess; he can be the one to deal with it when he shows up.

“We’re going to be in so much trouble,” Ino groans, leaning back in one of the hard chairs the police herded them into.

Shikamaru squints at his teammate. “This was your idea.”

Sinking into the seat, Ino grumbles, “Well, I didn’t think we’d actually get caught.”

Chouji sighs and kicks his feet. “At least the house wasn’t actually haunted.”

Sakura scoffs and crosses her arms. “That just makes it worse,” she declares. “That means we did all this for nothing.”

“Not nothing,” Sasuke points out logically. “Apparently we did successfully aid and abet a robbery.”

“And we did it in another country while we were with the Hokage’s son,” Shikamaru adds dryly.

Naruto gasps, horrified. “Stop saying it that way,” he demands. “My mom’s going to kill me if she finds out I caused another international incident.”

Chouji’s eyebrows rise as he peers over at the blond. “Another international incident.”

Groaning, Naruto covers his face with his hands and shakes his head. “Don’t ask.”

“It was in Suna,” Sasuke supplies helpfully. “We’ve been banned from the Kazekage tower for the next twenty-five years.”

Ino frowns. “Wait, Naruto, how are you going to be Hokage if you’re banned from visiting the Kazekage’s head office?”

“It’s only twenty-five years,” Naruto grumbles, pouting. “Obito-nii’s going to get the hat before me anyways. The ban will be lifted by then.”

“Provided you don’t make it worse until that happens,” Shikamaru says reasonably.

“I won’t!” Naruto insists, whining.

“Guys!” Sakura snaps, bringing them to attention. “Can we focus on the part where we’re still stuck in an interrogation room in another country because, apparently, we accidentally helped a bunch of thieves get away from the house they broke into and robbed.”

Sasuke quietly adds, “A house that we also technically forced entry into.”

Ino huffs. “The lock on the door was literally open.”

“Because the thieves picked the lock.” Chouji blinks. “The thieves whose cart we helped load stolen goods into.”

With a quiet thump, Naruto drops his head onto the table they’re all piled behind. “They’re never going to let us become chuunin after this.”

“We didn’t know they were thieves,” Sakura consoles, patting his back. “We thought we were helping the owners move.”

Shikamaru hums. “No, I knew they were thieves.”

Chouji lifts an eyebrow at his friend. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

With a shrug, the reply comes, “I couldn’t be bothered. Besides, I wanted to see how things would go.”

Waving a hand impatiently, Ino says, “Well, we already knew Shikamaru is morally bankrupt. The question is what are we going to do now?”

“The age of majority is fifteen in Amegakure,” Sasuke says. “They’ll ask us to bring in a guardian even though we’re genin and technically adults in the eyes of Konoha’s law.”

“I’m going to have to tell my dad?” Naruto gapes. “I’m totally fucked! He can't hide anything from my mom.”

Sasuke tilts his head. “Well, if they treated us like adults, they’d probably keep us in lockup until they found evidence to prove our innocence.”

“Yeah, but then my mom wouldn’t find out and whoop my ass to kingdom come.”

Sakura inserts, “But we’d miss the second round and then I’d whoop your ass to kingdom come.”

Naruto yelps, “This wasn’t even my idea!”

“Exactly,” Ino chimes in with feeling. “It’s Kiba’s fault for convincing us to convince you guys and then ditching like the cowardly loser he is.”

Chouji leans over to whisper to Shikamaru, “Didn’t Neji catch Kiba trying to sneak out and threaten to tell Tsume-dono?”

Shikamaru nods. “Even Kiba has enough self-preservation to avoid that.”

“Who are we going to call to come get us?” Sasuke interrupts calmly. “None of our parents are here except Naruto's and Chouji’s fathers.”

The group exchange troubled glances.

“Our sensei should count,” Shikamaru points out.

Naruto huffs and shakes his head. “It can’t be Kakashi-nii. He’s a snitch. Plus he gets really weird about favours for some reason.”

“Asuma-sensei would tell Kurenai-sensei and she’d tell Anko,” Ino puts forward, looking perturbed.

Chouji nods in solemn understanding. “Anko-san would tell everyone. She’d find it funny.”

“What about your dad then, Chouji?” Sakura asks, biting her lip anxiously. “He’s pretty nice.”

Shikamaru snorts. “Yeah, but he’d tell our old men and if my mom finds out, she’d put me to sleep permanently.”

Ino makes a noise of frustration and drops her head against the back of her chair. “This is impossible.”

For a moment, it seems as though all hope is lost for the group of genin.

And then, Naruto is perking up, face brightening. “I know who we could call!”

“—and then he was like, ‘Wait, but why are your hands purple?’ and obviously I couldn’t tell him because I’d lied earlier to get out of having to take his grandma to the clinic. Now normally, I’d agree to that kind of thing because I’m a nice guy, you know, and I have nothing against old people, but like, when I tell you that old lady is evil incarnate and should just hurry up and—”

Raijin doesn’t seem to realise or care that he has lost his audience somewhere in the past ten minutes of his nonstop recounting of his trip from the Land of Iron to Ame, but the police officers are both gaping and looking kind of close to tearing their own hair out at this point.

Naruto, who had gambled on this very outcome, leans back in his chair smugly. Sakura is looking similarly victorious while Team 10 looks vaguely impressed by Naruto’s uncle’s sheer capacity to keep speaking regardless of whether anyone is listening or not. At least Sasuke seems to be actually invested in whatever story Raijin is telling judging by the focused look on his face.

“You know what,” one of the police officers interrupts, wearing an air of defeat, “you can have them. Just—just take them and go. Please.”

“Oh.” Raijin blinks. “Of course. Thank you very much for your cooperation.” He turns to the genin and grins, winking. “Ready to go, kids?”

Springing out of his chair, Naruto flings his arms around his uncle’s neck and presses a kiss to his cheek, cheering, “Rai-ji-chan, you’re the absolute best!”

“Thank you for coming to get us, Raijin-san,” Sakura chirps, bouncing on her toes.

“We owe you one,” Shikamaru drawls, lazily stretching until his back clicks.

Raijin hums, scrubbing a hand through Naruto’s hair fondly before turning to address Shikamaru. “Run interference for me next time your dad tries to con me into a game of shogi and we’ll call it even.”

Hiding a smile, Shikamaru nods. “Deal.”

“We’d be happy to offer you a free meal at one of my family’s restaurants,” Chouji offers shyly.

Hooking an arm around the Akimichi's shoulders, Ino leans forwards and adds, “And a complimentary flower arrangement done by yours truly!”

Eyebrows rising, Raijin regards all of them with amusement as he rises to his feet, easily picking Naruto up as he goes, patiently standing still while the boy scampers onto his back. “Well, I sure seem to have amassed a bunch of favours unexpectedly,” he comments. “People are going to think I’m soliciting free things from a bunch of genin. My reputation will be ruined at this rate.”

“We’ll just have to make chuunin so it doesn’t become a problem,” Sasuke says simply, stuffing his hands in his pockets.  

Raijin looks impressed. “Very cool of you, Sasuke-kun,” he says, kindly refraining from laughing when Sasuke visibly flushes at the praise. “You’re right though. For my sake, you’re all going to have to pass the exam now.”

Shikamaru scoffs and looks away, mumbling, “What a pain.” He promptly gets whacked by Ino for it.

Sakura, on the other hand, nods sincerely, face screwed up with determination. “You can count on us, Raijin-san!”

Smiling fondly, Raijin pats her head. “I know I can, Sakura-chan.”

From the way Sakura perks up at that, one would think Raijin promised her his entire life savings instead.

Naruto observes this curiously as he props his chin on Raijin’s shoulders and wraps his arms around his uncle’s shoulders. “It’s like you’re everyone’s uncle and not just mine,” he notes.

Raijin hums, letting the other genin scamper out ahead of them as they troop out of the police station and out into the open night air. “Does that bother you?” he asks.

“No,” Naruto says after a moment of thought. “It’s nice that they all like you so much. Weird; but nice.”

When Raijin laughs, his chakra goes fuzzy around the edges even as it starts to swirl in lazy circles around Naruto’s. “Well, I’ve been around most of them since they were babies. You might not remember, but I was running a pretty successful unofficial babysitting service for a while there.”

Naruto huffs out a laugh and leans his cheek against Raijin’s shoulder. The man’s hair is almost shoulder length now and it tickles Naruto’s face where it is loosely tied back in a half-updo. “Are you going to be back in the village after the exam?”

“Why—did you miss me?”

“Yes,” Naruto replies immediately, unashamed.

Raijin looks back to smile at him, nudging him with chakra streaked though with sunny affection. “I’m going to be around for a few months this time,” he says, turning back ahead just in time to watch Chouji almost send Sasuke flying into a tree on accident with a pat on the back. “I’ll help with some of Obito’s training so nii-chan can take a little off his plate too.”

“You can help with Hokage training?”

“I’m a man of many talents.”

Shrugging, Naruto accepts this. “Fair enough, I guess,” he mumbles.

Gently jostling him, Raijin asks, “How was the test today? Sorry I missed the start. I wanted to wish you luck before it began but I was running late.”

“It was good,” Naruto says around a yawn. “I thought I was going to fail because I only knew like a quarter of the questions, but they just wanted to test how willing we are to work together, and Team 7 always aces that part. No sweat.”

Laughing, Raijin says, “Well, I’m glad it went well then. Are you nervous for the second round?”

Naruto hesitates. “A little,” he admits softly after a moment, because this is Raijin and he has never had anything to fear when it comes to his uncle who seems to know Naruto better than he knows himself. “I don’t want to fail and let anyone down.”

“Oh?” Raijin prods.

Naruto shrugs, going boneless against the older shinobi. “Sakura and Sasuke are counting on me,” he says. “Mom and dad too. So is everyone else in the village, I guess. Everyone in our family is so strong; I can’t fall behind, you know.”

For a long moment, Raijin is quiet. Then, “I didn’t know you were worrying about that stuff.”

“I’m not worried,” Naruto protests. “I’m just—aware. Isn’t that normal?”

“It is,” his uncle agrees, gently patting his calf reassuringly. “Listen up though: you don’t have to worry about anything anyone else might think or say.”

Naruto huffs, unconvinced. “That’s easy for you to say,” he grumbles. “Dad says you’re just as strong as he is. That’s Kage level.”

“I’m also a full-grown adult with over twenty years of shinobi experience under my belt,” Raijin points out dryly. “There’s no point in comparing yourself to me, Naruto. Or to anyone else for that matter. Other people’s opinions and expectations are useless to your progress. Just focus on becoming better than the person you were the day before, and strength will follow naturally.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Naruto laments.

His uncle chuckles. “It is that simple. In theory anyways. Hard work is never that easy after all, but it’s pretty achievable if you think about it, right? If you take it one day at a time, it’s not so bad.”

Pouting, the preteen challenges, “What if I fail?”

Raijin shrugs. “You can just try again later. It wouldn't be the end of the world.”

Naruto slumps. “I don’t want other people to think I’m not good though,” he admits. “I want to be like you and mom and dad.”

“Then it’s a good thing we all have our own fair share of failures under our belts,” Raijin says. “None of us ever succeeded on anything 100% of the time. We had to try again and take the long way around things sometimes too. It’s normal. That’s just how you grow.” Snidely, he adds, “And if anyone tries to insinuate that you’re not good enough just because you’re growing up like any normal kid your age should, then you tell them they can take it up with me and we’ll see if I can’t set them straight. The last thing we need is some asshole filling your head with self-deprecatory nonsense.”

Despite himself, Naruto giggles. “It’s not nonsense,” he argues half-heartedly.

“Yes, it is,” Raijin insists stubbornly. “We didn’t fight all these wars and work so hard to lay down the foundations of peace just for someone to want our children to grow up into soldiers so young just like we had to. Your parents and I worked every day to become this strong so we could make the world a good enough place for you to grow up in. So that you could take your time and take all the detours you wanted on your way to growing up. And then, one day, when you are all grown up and strong and ready, we’ll step back and the world will be yours to do with as you see fit, and I know you’re going to do a great job because you’re a good kid who’s trying his best to grow into a good adult. That’s all that matters. What anyone else thinks is pointless.”

Naruto blinks. “Oh,” he says, suddenly feeling very small, like all of him has been compressed into the space his heart takes up.

“There’s no need to hurry, Naruto,” Raijin says kindly. “The world’s not going anywhere. Just take things slow and grow up well. When the time comes, you’ll figure it out.”

Leaning against the man, Naruto mumbles, “Okay.” 

And before them, the future stretches on endlessly.