A Matter of Perspective

By MezmorizeHypno

Chapter 1:

The air was cool, crisp, the wind biting at his nose and his breath coming out in short puffs. The whole village was blanketed by white, covered in snow, and it continued to fall from the sky, landing on his face, melting, and continuing to slide down his cheek. It didn't snow very often in Konoha, but when it did it was hard and long, oftentimes confining people to their houses for several days.

Everyone was bundled up comfortably inside, curled in front of a fireplace, sipping hot chocolate and cuddling with a lover, or maybe a good book for those who were single. They had been prepared for the weather, stocked up on cocoa and snacks and made minimal trips outside until the snow hit them.

They were the smart ones.

As opposed to him, who was left trudging through the streets, his legs losing their feeling, trying to get home. He was circulating chakra through his body to keep himself warm, but it could only do so much against the blizzard.

He sighed, pulling his cloak tighter around himself and wishing that he had had the sense to grab a coat before he stormed out of the house. His son had gotten into another argument with him, and they had both said some things they regretted before stomping off in opposite directions.

He chuckled wryly. His son was the only one who could get him to fly into a rage, ever since his wife died, he was the only one who could truly make him feel. Him and Kakashi. Other than that, he was just kind of…numb.

He wouldn't be able to bear losing either of them.

That was probably why he hadn't told them the truth about that day, thirteen years ago.

October 10. A date so shrouded in lies and conspiracies and horror that Konoha did everything they could to forget it. They didn't mark it on their calendars, they stayed indoors, slept late, and through the day if they were lucky. Over a decade later and they still relived the nightmare of that day in their sleep.

He was right in the middle of it.

Praised as a hero for his noble actions and his sacrifices, feeling like a broken man for everything he lost, and ducking his head in shame for every lie he told about the events that transpired that dreadful night.

There was so much going on that day, not even he was sure if he knew the full story.

But he was sure that if Kakashi ever found out, or if Jinsei discovered the truth, then they would never trust him again, and it could well and truly devastate his student, who had been so fragile after the loss of his two teammates. Then his father and his surrogate mother.

He wasn't sure Kakashi would ever be able to recover if he knew the truth. And he knew it would completely destroy whatever relationship he had managed to scrape together with his son.

He sighed again. It was hard being the Yondaime. Doing everything for the best interests of Konoha, he couldn't worry about personal problems, or closure, he had to know what to say and when to say it, or when to keep something buried under layers of deceit and fraudulence. It wasn't at all what he had imagined, Sometimes he just wanted to have fun, take a day off, do something, anything,but paperwork.

He sensed something in his peripheral and turned sharply to the left, right as a cat leapt over the fence, bounding through the snow and disappearing down a narrow street, something clutched in its jaws.

He paused, staring after the animal and its strange behavior. Typically cats stayed curled up somewhere nice and warm, they didn't go through frolicking around in the cold. Maybe a summon?

He considered it, glancing briefly in the direction of his house, before shrugging and following the animal. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt.

The street was more like a strip between two wood-paneled fences that led from the neighborhood to the market. A good shortcut that shaved off ten minutes of travel for civilians, but nothing else. There were a pair of trash cans, and that was it, but something told him not to trust his eyes in this case.

He spotted the cat's black tail, a splash of color against the white environment, disappear behind the trash cans and he walked over to them curiously. What he saw made his eyes widen and his jaw go slack. There, leaning against the fence between the trash cans, and hidden from sight unless someone took the shortcut, was a boy. His hair was a mess of white, as pure as the snow, and the cat was curled up on his lap, purring after having dropped off his prize of a- he did a double-take- a box of pocky!? What in the world?

The boy was petting the cat absentmindedly, seeming not to mind that he was sitting outside in the freezing snow, and had to have been for quite a long time since there weren't any footprints.

He cleared his throat to catch the boy's attention, but the kid didn't look up, just continued stroking his fingers through the cat's fur.

"Um, are you okay?" He asked tentatively.

The boy stilled, glancing up inquiringly and the Yondaime was suddenly trapped, captured by ice-blue eyes, and the familiar, three whisker marks in each cheek. He shook his head quickly to dispel the memories. No, he told himself. Just a coincidence. It's not possible.

"Why would I not be?" The boy wondered, resuming his petting.

"Well, it's freezing outside."

"Is it?" He murmured, turning his attention back to the cat. He didn't seem particularly affected by the weather, or anything really, but something was wrong. A nearly unnoticeable buzz in the air that put his senses on edge.

He shifted uncomfortably. If he took too much longer Jinsei would probably get Kakashi, and they would both wind each other up with worse and worse scenarios before they alerted the ANBU, put the village in shut down, and went crazy looking for him. They were both a bit overprotective, and if you put them together it made it a thousand times worse.

But he couldn't leave the kid here either. "Don't you have a family, or something?"

The boy shook his head.

"Well, why don't you come home with me?" It was risky, and utterly idiotic, but his conscious wouldn't have it any other way. Besides, this boy looked like he could use some company, and it wasn't like the Hokage couldn't take care of himself.

The boy blinked, his brow furrowed, like he couldn't comprehend what was going on, and asked, "Who are you?"

"Minato Namikaze," he said, offering his hand and a warm smile that he knew put people at ease.

The boy frowned, tilting his head and observing him as if he was an interesting new specimen that needed to be picked apart, analyzed, and examined. "You're the Yondaime." He said.

He nodded. "Yes, but you know, people tend to give their own names after an introduction."

The boy took his hand. "Naruto." And Minato was thrust violently back into the past, memories hitting him like a battering ram, or like a hammer driving a nail through his skull, pounding into his brain. Snippets flickered behind his eyelids, teasing him as the flashed by one by one.

...

"Minato, no you can't!"

"I have to, I'm sorry."

"I'll never forgive you for this!"

"I wouldn't expect you to."

...

"What do you mean he's dead? He can't be dead!"

"I'm so sorry."

...

"The kid's gone? Where?"

"We don't know."

"You don't know? You don't know!? YOU DON'T KNOW!?"

"I'm sorry."

...

So many useless apologies, because he couldn't do anything right. It all went wrong, it was a disaster, he wasn't a hero, how could they call him a hero? All he did was lie, and ruin lives, and destroy families. Why couldn't anyone else see that? He was a monster, no better than the Kyuubi, and everyone else was just collateral.

How could he?

How could they?

How?

Why did he let them?

He didn't even notice the boy as he stood up, watching the famed Yellow Flash have a meltdown right in front of him. Naruto glanced around, sighing when he found that no one else was around. He contemplated leaving him here, but quickly abandoned the idea. He wasn't sure he could get away with that. The man was in no condition to be…doing anything really.

He was on the verge of hyperventilating. Hospital was out, unless Naruto wanted to get beaten for almost killing the Hokage. Never mind he had just, practically, saved the man's life.

That left only one option. He hoped dearly no one else was hanging around, or he was as good as dead.

Minato woke in an unfamiliar place, his headache reduced to a dull throbbing in the back of his head, and inwardly groaning. He hadn't had a breakdown like that in years, so what had triggered it?

His eyes widened.

Oh.

Yeah.

The jinchuriki. Still alive. Thirteen years after being presumed dead. Thirteen years after his father's death. Thirteen years after he disappeared.

And thirteen years later, he ran into the jinchuriki in the streets out of pure chance.

He never should have followed the cat.

...

Hiya. I wasn't sure about the breakdown, but imagine thirteen years of being weighed down by secrets that could change lives, constantly feeling guilt over what you have and haven't done, all the mistakes you've made. And he's a shinobi, so being mentally unstable comes with the job. And I guarantee none of you will guess exactly what happened on my version of the Kyuubi attack.