Notes: Slanted writing, like so, means it is either an inner thought, dream/flashback, or there is emphasis on that word.

Author's Note: This is my first time at attempting to write a long beaten to death fanfiction trope, time travel. I've added my own spin to it, however, so I hope you enjoy it. Please be sure to tell me what you think in the reviews!

There's a stillness in the clearing that not even the wind can touch. No birds sing their songs to the rising sun nor do the leaves rustle about. In the middle of the clearing, lies a blond figure. He is shirtless, showing off a weeping red hole in his chest. Twisting out from the large wound are threads of raised red skin, starting from the hole and snaking up and out and around his torso and arms like the branches of a tree. Blood flows from an open wound on the top of his head, and his leg is bent at an unnatural angle.

A figure materializes in the clearing, taking in the scene before them. They search the clearing quickly, making their way towards the injured blond with a kunai in hand. Kneeling beside the blond, the figure withdraws their hood to reveal fiery red hair encasing features embedded with tired lines aged with time.

The man goes to touch the blond who suddenly gasps awake, chest spluttering in a frenzy of activity and surprising the man. Spine arching, head thrown back, the blond screams.

"It's called a lichtenberg figure."

Minato glances up from his perusal of the mysterious blond figures medical chart and at his head of medical staff. Tsunade isn't looking at him, but instead at the blond man lying comatose on the bed in front of them.

"Lichtenberg?"

"Yes." She answers, gaze still focused on her patient. "It's a wound commonly associated with lightning strike victims. But…"

"But?" Minato prompts when Tsunade trails off.

"But, as said in Yuki's report, there were no burn marks around the area he was found in. Nor does he show any of the other signs of being struck by lightning. Yes, he has the giant hole in his chest, a broken leg, probable concussion, punctured lung and severe chakra depletion, but these aren't consistent with being struck by lightning. The chest wound looks like its been given a patch job, enough to buy him a few minutes but not to save him. By all rights he should be dead. Currently, he's healing at such an alarming rate that I'm thinking he has some kind of Kekkei Genkai. Despite that however, because of his injuries there is a chance he might not even wake up. So…"

"Judging from all that then, this man is most likely a shinobi, and not some poor civilian caught in the crossfire. You're thinking the wound was caused by a jutsu?"

Tsunade doesn't answer, her gaze distant and troubled.

"Tsunade-sama?" She still doesn't answer, seeming to be struggling with something. Minato waits, not wanting to push her and end up a Hokage-sized hole in the wall.

"I've only ever seen this kind of wound as a result of one Jutsu before, Minato."

"Where?" He asks, trying to stop the rising frustration at her lack of answers show on his face, "Tsunade-sama, where?"

Her gaze flickers up at him, the guilty look of a woman about to rip open old wounds.

"On the body of Rin."

Minato looks behind him at the open doorway, unsurprised to see Kakashi there. Minato is, however, surprised at his words. After the death of Rin, he barely mentioned her name. Minato looks at Kakashi in shock, at Tsunade, and then back at Kakashi. The lines in Kakashi's face have deepened, pulling taught with composed stress. If Minato didn't know Kakashi as well as he did, he wouldn't have noticed.

"How'd you know to come?" Minato asks.

"I called for him," says Tsunade. "After I recognized the wound."

Minato processes all of this information slowly, methodically.

"So," he says, "you're telling me that this wound," here he points to the comatose blond man lying on the bed, "is similar to Rin's?"

"Not similar, Sensei, no." Kakashi contradicts.

"Identical." Tsunade finishes.

Minato runs a strong hand down his face. "Did you teach your jutsu to anyone, Kakashi?" Kakashi flicks him a dry stare. "You know I didn't, Sensei. It is possible that some of our enemies may have been able to recreate Chidori after seeing me using it during the war, but without Sharingan they would not have been able to use it effectively."

"Okay," Minato says, pinching the bridge of his nose, "so we then have a mysterious blond man on our hands who we know nothing about, who appeared out of nowhere with a wound seemingly inflicted by Chidori, but that's impossible because no one outside of our village could possibly have replicated it effectively enough to use in battle. Is that all?"

A silent tilt of the head and a one shoulder shrug from Kakashi, as if to say "beats me." Tsunade chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully. Minato, catching her unease, raised an eyebrow at her. She huffed out a breath of air through her nose.

"Well, I can't be the only one who noticed it, right? I mean...he looks an awful lot like you, Minato. Enough to be related to you, at the least." For the first time since entering into the hospital room, Minato finally lets himself look at the man in front of him. He was still young, his face still holding some of the baby fat associated with youth. He had short, blond hair that was currently being held back from his forehead by bandages. On each of his cheeks were three whisker marks, and if he were to open his eyes, Minato knew from the medical report that they were blue. He couldn't have been older than twenty years.

Minato takes a deep breath in through his nose.

"Tsunade-sama." He says. "How long will it take to get the results of a blood test back?"

Tsunade's eyes harden. "A week. Do you want me to…?"

Minato looks down at the comatose blond, fists clenching behind his back.

"Yes."

The clearing is quiet. They both sit side by side each other, backs leaning up against a tree as the wind whips softly around them.

"Hey, Sakura."

"Yeah?"

"Do you think things can ever go back to the way they were before?"

"Before?"

"Before the Third died. Before Sasuke left. Before the War. Before Orochimaru. Before."

"I don't think so."

"Oh."

"But," a pause, "if there's anyone who can do it, that would have to be you."

Silence.

"It would take a shit tonne of work." Naruto sighs.

"Well then," Sakura says, a soft smile on her lips, "I guess it's time to go to work."

"So wake up, Naruto."

"Wake up."

Naruto flies forward up off of his bed, a heaving gasp pulling in through his throat as he does. Immediately, the occupants within the room flurry around him in activity. Too late, Naruto feels the wound in his chest protest to his sudden movement. A hand alight with green chakra is immediately there, offering relief. Catching the smell of booze, Naruto looks up into his healers eyes.

Tsunade stares back.

Did I not go back far enough?

His confusion isn't enough to stop his happiness however. At the very sight of her, he almost begins to cry. Luckily for him, Tsunade seems to write his sudden burst of emotion off as fatigue.

"How are you feeling." She asks in a stern voice. Naruto tries to wave her hands away, in the hopes of getting a better look at her. After she backs off a little however, Naruto catches sight of the blonde man hovering just over her left shoulder. His eyebrows thread together in rising anxiety.

Did I go back too far?

But something's not right. Because him overshooting it would explain Tsunade's presence in Konoha still, as it would his father still being alive. But nothing can account for the lines of age that Naruto has never seen his father hold. Nor can it account for a fully adult sized Kakashi standing next to him. Naruto looks at Tsunade, still in the village, his father, still alive, and finally at the fully adult sized Kakashi. He feels himself pale.

Fuck.

The red headed man watches the occupants of the hospital room from his perch on a tree outside. His cloak pools out around him, hood pushed back. The man takes a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Hands clasped in front of him, he concentrates.

No one is there to see him burst into a puff of smoke.