Author's Notes: This is something of an apology for VàV's inexcusably protracted lack of updates – almost a year! I'd be proud of myself if I weren't so sickeningly ashamed. But if it means anything, I haven't been slacking. Much to my morbid fascination, I've come up with several amazing ideas and written a number of pages for VàV . . . most of which will take place much later in the story than where my faithful readers currently are, unfortunately. Still, this bit may tide you over; it's about Minato and Naruto, and who doesn't love that? If, somehow, you haven't seen The Lost Tower already and haven't seen the trailers for it, all you really need to know is that while chasing an enemy ninja who's after the power of "the Ryuumyaku (Dragon Pulse/Vein)" Naruto gets flung twenty years into the past, where he encounters Minato, who is in the middle of an assignment. Insanity ensues. Thus Naruto is able to work alongside the Fourth before he's actually the Fourth. It takes place between Jiraiya's death and Pain's destruction of Konoha, so Naruto doesn't know for a fact yet that the Fourth is his father; obviously, however, he's not blind.

Also, I was supposed to be posting this on Kushina's birthday. I realize it's a touch late, but it's six a.m. here and I figure it's still going to be July tenth somewhere on this planet for just a little longer, so I'm going with it. This isn't about her, although she is mentioned, but I have literally tried for exactly one year to write something that involves her significantly (and failed). Since reading manga chapters 500 to 505 I've actually had some good inspiration to work from and am pulling something together now, but what was supposed to be a fifteen-page three-shot has become a thirty-pages-and-counting four-part multi-chapter monster. It, quite frankly, isn't ready for her birthday. So she will have to make do with a nice little piece about her boys.

Title: I Can See (There's No Time)

Author: Reaper Nanashi (Lady Shinigami)

Pairing: None Intended

Word Count: 2883

Genre: Drama (as usual, a bildungsroman [character exploration])

Type: One-Shot (Complete)

Rating: K+ (vaguely-suggested violence)

Spoilers: No, unless you think the invention of another new type of rasengan is classifiable as such.

Date Submitted: 7/10/11

Disclaimer: In my wildest dreams, that's for sure.

Claimer: Kushina's nickname; nothing else.

Summary: I can see it from the start, and as soon as it's clear that you're from the future, I know the truth. I can see your mother in you. I can see the red chakra of the kyuubi. I can see that you don't know me, and that scares me. And yet, still, I'm glad I can see you – I wouldn't have turned you away for the world. I can see it all, but there's no time to explain. I'm sorry.

The Reasoning Behind It: I've been watching pieces of The Lost Tower – mainly the end, obviously, for those of you who've seen it (probably everybody by now) – and in doing so I've noticed the Fourth's various responses to Naruto, in both the visual and auditory senses. Maybe I'm imagining them and thus inventing things that aren't there (which is entirely possible, knowing me), but isn't that arguably what writers are supposed to do? In any case, this is the result of my daydreaming. Incidentally, this is the first time, I think, that I've ever consciously attempted to write in the present tense. I think I failed, but it seems all right as it is, so maybe I'll try again another day.

I never think of the future – it comes soon enough.

I can see it from the start but hesitate to acknowledge it – there just aren't many blonds in Konoha who have hair that bright and of that style. And touching you, even just to bandage your leg, sends tiny static jolts up my arms. I've been told I have a magnetic personality, but I seriously doubt that was what was meant by it. You don't seem to feel it – or if you do you're ignoring it – but I've never felt anything like it. Though it's definitely an electric shock, at the same time it's still gentle and warm, like the arm of a best friend settling on your shoulder or perhaps a hug from a mother. It's familiar, soothing, and personal on the kind of level that borders on physical intimacy. So as soon as it's clear that you're from the future, I know the truth.

You are mine.

There is a chest-swelling sensation that comes with a realization of that kind – a powerful pride that can't really be described. It's an easy feeling for me to accept because I've always expected I would be a father one day – it was just one of those strange little tidbits that people inexplicably know about themselves – but I'm still caught by surprise by how strong the feeling is when I look at you. I'm not married or even dating regularly, and though I'm expecting children one day I've never sat down and made any concrete plans, so one might imagine that it would be a much weaker, more vague awareness than it actually is. I don't mind, because it's such an amazing feeling, but all the same it's odd; I'm not even twenty yet, and you can't be that much younger than me.

I never tell anyone about this, of course, even though I desperately want to, and if Chouza and Shibi have any suspicions they don't voice them. Which is good, since merely asking me point-blank like that would probably be like poking a water balloon with a kunai – all my guts would spill out. I proceed to fend off everyone else's postulations about the future because I know just how I am; if I let my hopes get up for the briefest instant I'll want to know everything – out of curiosity rather than greed, but that's bad enough and has as much potential for causing temporal damage – and I have a mission I need to concentrate on besides. There's no time.

Still, though we know each other for fewer than twenty-four hours there's so much I learn just from seeing you that you may as well have written a book about it.

I can see your mother in you. While I've always known I'd have children I've never been wholly certain who their mother would be, but looking at you leaves me entirely unsurprised; since she's been teaching me various sealing techniques her clan is known for, Kushina and I have gotten to know each other much better than when we were in the academy, and I can't say I haven't thought about it. It seems you inherited my colors, but the shape of her eyes and face and the tint of her hair; mine is strong in color but weak in shine – not nearly the spun gold yours is. Your mother's hair has the unfortunate ability to look tabletop-flat beneath any artificial light, something expensive boutique treatments could probably fix if she cared enough to spend the money, but there's really no need because the instant she steps into the sun it comes alive. Nobody else noticed that particular trait when we were children, being too busy addressing her by various unflattering nicknames, but to me she's always Konoha no Akai Hono'o – my beautiful Red Blaze. It's nice to know she'll pass that on to you, if in a different color.

Something a bit more unusual is that I can hear her voice in you, too; you have almost the exact verbal tic she does. I'm not sure that's a good thing – she finds hers embarrassing – but it will certainly individualize you.

I can see hard times ahead. You are loud and full of energy like your mother, but behind it is the same – no, perhaps a deeper – sense of exhaustion. You have seen so much and been through so many things, and yet you have the heart to smile and the strength to walk on. Others must look up to you for that – even rely on you for it at times. I hope you can support them without breaking down, because so many people need to believe in someone else before they can believe in themselves. It's a terribly unfair burden, but there are those who can rise to the occasion with grace, and I like to think you are one such person; it's those people who are remembered – whose memory and teachings will live longer than that of any war hero.

I can see the red chakra of the kyuubi when you free yourself from Mukade's giant puppet soldier. Being aware of who your mother is, I'm not particularly concerned by it. I don't know the circumstances, of course, but you seem to have control of it and that satisfies me. Still, I wonder about it. There's never been much information on the Shodai's wife, the kyuubi's vessel before Kushina, and I wonder if any of her children ever came out with those whisker-like marks or if it's a sign of direct possession – that the kyuubi was somehow unintentionally passed to you before you were born. Again, it doesn't worry me much, because you're so much the way your mother has been before and since the kyuubi that you're obviously not the fox in disguise – you're just you with some extra, unique qualities. Besides, I really like those whiskers; they're cute and offer you a subtle distinction. I definitely don't mind that you look so much like me, but I think that one day – if not already – you might, and I'm sure those little marks will help you make a name for yourself.

I can see what you've learned. I admit it quite surprises me when you call on a shadow clone and it helps you form a rasengan. Clearly you're no expert at it, if you need the clone to help, but it's not easy to learn to begin with so the mere fact that you have is impressive. Further, I find myself proud that you were able to figure out what trouble you were having and overcome it; adaptive thinking is so vital to shinobi. And I know you found the answer, because only Jiraiya-sensei or I could have taught that technique to you – or perhaps your mother, but she hasn't been having much luck in her training – and neither of us would have done more than instruct you on the individual stages. Sometime later, after I'm forced to retreat temporarily and you have bravely taken over battling Mukade, I hear a sound very similar to a rasengan's birth howl – something sharp and almost metallic – and have to wonder if you've managed to do what I haven't yet: if you've carried it a step further and figured out how to add your chakra's elemental nature to it. I wish I could get closer and see it, but there's no time.

If, after every other sign there had been, I still hold doubts about any relation between us, they are put to rest in the Ryuumyaku. I said I could lend you chakra and I do, but only enough to coax your chakra into taking a form that's already familiar; in most cases, being unable to use chakra is more a loss of control through physical exhaustion than a lack of chakra, so the fact that you're still conscious and standing means you have at least a little more to spare as long as you have help. Most of the rasengan you hold at that moment is comprised of your own chakra, not mine, or you wouldn't be able to retain it in your hands with so little effort. And while it's true that similar types of chakra will resonate – usually elemental affinities, but also the specific traits of chakra found within blood relations – I wasn't expecting anything so strong. Presumably that means a resonance in both chakra and elemental affinity, which will incrementally increase their compatibility. I couldn't have done that myself; exact matches will absorb and condense rather than blend, which in this case would have left behind one standard rasengan full of compressed chakra. To have them coalesce the way they do, to merge into one another and share – but never steal or relinquish – their strength, requires two separate but also fully compatible sources. In other words, a parent and his child.

Even knowing that, I'm definitely nervous leaving the taikyoku rasengan in your hands alone; it's stronger than I ever expected and will therefore take that much more effort to control adequately. Combine that with the ever-present possibility that my chakra could rebel against you at any moment, and everything might be ruined – with Mukade as enraged as he is, there would be no time to make another attempt. But someone has to open up that weak spot, and while I do that you rise to the occasion so stunningly; whether it's your will exerting itself or my chakra simply accepting you because of your similarity to me or both, you are magnificent. I still worry, of course, until the rasengan is totally gone and you are touching the ground with both feet, but I suppose that's just something parents have to put up with. And I accept that because in exchange I get to be ridiculously proud all over again; it's too bad no one else was there to see you.

Then, suddenly, it's all over. Mukade is gone and the Ryuumyaku will be safely sealed; we've saved the day. But it's as I place my kunai that I understand exactly how you got here.

I was the one who brought you.

I'm not entirely sure how to feel about that, because any technique that utilizes the properties of space-time is inherently risky; even studying it can only mitigate a portion of it. If a person doesn't know exactly what to do it can end in landing somewhere or somewhen unintended at best, and death at worst. Perhaps you were focused so much on catching Mukade that you were able to follow his temporal trail, and that was what saved you. I could have killed you. But at the same time you're obviously here and apparently none the worse for wear, and it's breathtaking to have the chance to see you before you're born. I don't know if I'd say it was worth the risk, but all the same I'm not really sorry it happened. In either case there had been no time to think that what I was doing might have such repercussions – not with the state of the Ryuumyaku.

The Ryuumyaku was going to explode. That's just what was going to happen; there is no stopping it. But by sealing it I was able to contain the explosion – suspend it for a theoretical eternity in time and space. It's harmless there, always exploding and yet never exploding, but with nothing living to harm in any case. When Mukade breaks the seal in your time, all of that is let loose. But the Ryuumyaku is just a catalyst, like chakra; it's not dangerous unless added to something or deliberately molded and then forcefully expelled. The explosion would have been bad enough, but ultimately it would have been limited to the mass of whatever of the stuff was available and then snuffed itself out. Except that sealing it with a kunai capable of assisting in a space-time transfer merely added that to the Ryuumyaku as well, which must have created and contained what was essentially a temporal blast. Mukade destroying the seal let that burst of temporal energy free, and rather than kill you it must have pitched you through time, with the amount of the Ryuumyaku present defining exactly how far you could go. Mukade, being at the center of it, would have gotten the full force of the Ryuumyaku's power; you were trying to stop him, I imagine, and got hit with the peripheral energy, and if your captain tried to save you with his Wood technique – and that is certainly an interesting trait to experience – he would have been pulled along with you rather than left behind or dumped at some point after this one.

I would have liked to let you keep my kunai, because I think you would have realized it was important and taken care of it – and maybe, one day, even remembered me – regardless of whether you could recall where or when you got it, but it's not to be. Time begins to repair itself immediately and there's no longer time to talk – barely enough time to apply a memory-sealing technique to those of us who know too much about one another; Kushina will doubtless be furious with me if she ever finds out I used what she taught me to do this to you, to her, to us. Really, I knew to begin with that there would never be time for conversation, but it quieted you for the duration and that was what I needed. I'm sorry I lied. But the fact is that I'm a coward. I'm frightened of what you might say.

Because you don't know me.

You don't know me except as a man in a distant position of power, and you don't even do a bad job of subtly asking after your mother; in fact, you don't ever ask after her at all. And that scares me, because the only logical explanation for that is that we're both dead in your time. Worse, that you don't know us means that we died when you were very little – too little to have memories of us and too little to be told about us because if you had ever mentioned us to the wrong person it would have put your life in jeopardy. And to be honest, I don't want to know how we die, even for so short a time . . . I'm not that strong; if you're from twenty years in the future then five years from now sounds about right. You don't look that much, if at all, younger than me.

I'm sorry. I can see how desperate you are to speak to me, to learn a little something about me, maybe even to warn me, but I can't allow you to slip something I don't want to hear into the conversation. I don't want to know how you can carry a pain that might really be worse than what Kushina has been through, because there's nothing I can do about it; no one has the right to alter the passage of time. I wish I could hold you, kiss you, ruffle your hair and slap you on the back the way fathers are supposed to, but there's no time. I have to finish this technique so I can be assured that somewhere, someday, we'll see each other again, even if neither of us remembers it. And now you've finally resigned yourself, I can see; I'm not going to back down, and you don't know how to convince me to hear you out with so little time remaining. The distress you silently convey stings, but I know you'll be all right – it's clear you have your mother's ability to always push forward regardless of how badly your heart aches, and even though I don't want to rely on that for my own selfishness I'm going to have to this time. I wish I didn't have to be someone else who hurt you, who denied you comfort, but at the same time I feel a perverse pleasure because I know you wouldn't be like this if you didn't care. And the thought that you might not have cared is too horrible to dwell on.

As frightened as I am, I'm still glad to have seen you – I wouldn't have turned you away for the world. I don't want to relegate you to my dreams as though you're nothing but some faint ephemeral vision; I want to keep these memories of you, because if I am to die soon I'd like to think they'd give me the strength to go through with whatever plan I come up with . . . but I just can't risk it. I can't risk that the quiet, bottled agony in your eyes will cause me to hesitate for even an instant. You may never understand exactly why I'm doing this – and at the moment I'm not sure I do either – but that's okay; I'll bear whatever resentment I must to ensure your existence – to recreate the remarkable young man before me. All I know for certain right now is that I'm proud of you just the way you are, and I don't want that to change.

I can see it all, but there's no time to explain.

Love you . . .

Finis

Answers To Questions You Didn't Even Know You Wanted To Ask:

The Lost Tower is one of those movies that actually wouldn't have been so bad if it had actually contained what it claimed it did – i.e., the Yondaime. I mean, it was obviously intended to be fanservice, and there's a reason why it's called that – because you're supposed to give the fans what they want, usually as a reward or to buy loyalty. This movie didn't even pretend to do that until right at the end of what was essentially a one-hour and ten-minute lead-in to the last fifteen minutes or so. It makes me wonder what the point of the movie actually was.

Anyway, enough about that; most of you all probably feel the same way or are tired of hearing the above blathered about over and over. If you care about my thoughts on the movie, I've posted them on my magical new blog.

—

…and if Chouza and Shibi have any suspicions they don't voice them.

Probably everyone knows this by now, but Chouza and Shibi are (or will be, depending on how you look at it) the fathers of Chouji and Shino, respectively. If this surprises you in any way . . . why?

—

…but to me she was always Konoha no Akai Hono'o – my beautiful Red Blaze.

Akai is "red", and hono'o means "blaze" or "flame". Konoha no Akai Hono'o is a nickname – obviously based on Minato's – that I made up for Kushina quite some time before the Tomato/Bloody Habanero thing was revealed (at least two years, I imagine); though I've started carrying it over into my other stuff I invented it specifically for part four of the Close Encounters series, which I'm still working on, and I did it all so I could make a little "yellow and red make orange" joke. In any case, Kishimoto has now done the same thing, so if that's lame then I guess I'm in good company.

—

Love you . . .

I'm mentioning this out of curiosity; you may or may not realize where it comes from. For those who don't, I've taken this bit from the moment when Minato is preparing to wipe everyone's memories (1:17:26–1:17:30). He's mouthing either two syllables or two words, and I kid you not – "Love you," was literally the first thing that came to my mind (because I have daddy!Yondy mush-brain under conditions like those). Now arguably he's supposed to be speaking in Japanese, and that's fine, but "(dai)suki" doesn't appear to fit at all, and "ai shiteru" only seems to fit if you either run it together really fast or chop out ai, which kind of defeats the purpose to me. I realize that anime isn't known for having amazingly accurate mouth movements, but considering that he's not even whispering I thought that might lend to more care in that one scene, if nowhere else in the movie. And seeing as my Japanese vocabulary is minimal at best, I'd like to know if anyone else has any other ideas as to what he might be saying.

Reviews? Please and thank you.

~RN (LS)