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The ocean, the kind Umino merchant explained as he took their group of refugees to his home island on his trade vessel, will give at times. But, his son Ikkaku continued, it will also take and until they learned to read the ocean it would be best to stay away from the water’s edge.
It had been a tense ride, silence on a huge vessel normally carrying goods back and forth now filled to the brim with people. Even the crying had been quiet. A lingering smell of fish clung to everything he owned. Just a small satchel, mostly filled with weapons, his hitai-ate, and the only photo of his parents he had.
Konohagakure was gone.
Wiped from the land in a single night of fire and brimstone.
The Sandaime, his council, and handful of Jounin had stayed behind to fight. Jiraiya-sensei wanted to to, but the Hokage sent him, them away, to lead what was left of their people. Jiraiya had only been able to find Minato from his Genin team. Touka and Midori-
After six months, it was quietly assumed that there were no surviving defenders.
Tears burned hot on his cheeks and even repeating the shinobi laws wasn’t enough to stop them from falling. He pressed a hand against his eyes to force the crying to stop, wiping away the saltiness.
They, or what was left of the Village Hidden in the Leaves, were safe here. On these islands connected by bridges and boats, hidden by whirlpools and seals and barriers. So many barriers. The Uzushio shinobi added even more when they heard of Konoha’s fall. Now, Uzushiogakure was a rumour and even harder to find.
They could lick their wounds, recover, and then, when the time was right and only then, Minato was going to crush Kumo beneath his sandals. He took a breath, then another, and felt a tired calmness settle over him as he leapt down a palm tree in the courtyard.
It was cooler than Konoha’s forests, even during the summer. The ocean proved a spray in the air with each crash of the waves. Jiraiya had been negotiating for which island would host a new Konoha. In the meantime, his sensei more often fell asleep at his makeshift desk than in any bed, with Minato right beside him.
They were being hosted by the ruling clan, the Uzumaki. Who also chose to host the Uchiha and the Senju with a simple, “We are honoured to take as many as we can feed,” from Uzumaki Kasumi, Head of the Uzumaki clan. Her younger sister Kayame all but sprang into action to make it so.
Jiraiya almost visibly sighed with relief when the declaration was made public. Later, in private, he told Minato, “It’s a status symbol. That’s what they’ve done. It is a status symbol to take as many refugees as they can. A show that the Uzumaki have the money and power to feed hundreds. That anyone who doesn’t obviously doesn’t have either.” He shook his head and smiled for the first time since they fled Konoha, “Sages, I love the Uzumaki.”
Rooming with Uchiha Fugaku under the stern eye of one Uzumaki Kensuke had been an interesting experience so far. Minato had heard the Uchiha Clanhead and his wife hadn’t made it out of Konoha, but couldn’t quite bring himself to ask his roommate. A lot people hadn’t made it out. Too many.
His feet moved down the wide cobblestone streets, past the tall, delicately carved stone buildings painted in bright colours, with clay tiled roofs and gold leaf accent. Fish and waves were common motifs, and each bridge he crossed between the islands had a theme.
He found the beach.
The setting sun lit the sky on fire, filling it with reds and oranges and purples. more of the archipelago hid in the shade, sheltering the area from the winds. Waves lapped gently against the sand, washing his footsteps away.
“You know,” a voice called from behind, “It’s better if you take your sandals off.”
Minato blinked and glanced back.
She stood with her hands on her hips, long crimson hair- a hallmark of the Uzumaki- flowing in the breeze. With a huff, she blew the bangs from her eyes. Stormy violet eyes. The sunset played with the shadows on her face- she had changed into the more common island attire of long-sleeved, short-hemmed robes belted at the waist.
The girl from the academy. Kushina. He blinked again and corrected himself, Uzumaki Kushina.
She leaned forward and slowly lifted one hand to knock against Minato’s forehead. “You there, Namikaze?”
Minato shook his head, rubbing the spot where she touched him, “Yeah- I-” The tears almost welled again because he didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be home. He wanted Konoha to be standing once more. His heart ached to see those gates again.
Kushina must have noticed, but she didn’t say anything. Only turned to look to the sea. “Come on. Kick your sandals off. I’ll show you.”
Numbly, he did as he was told, mimicking Kushina’s actions. The warmth of the day lingered in the sand, grounding him once more. She held out a calloused hand and he took it gently.
He was completely unprepared for her to smirk, grip his hand tightly and race into the ocean- pulling him stumbling after her.
With a yelp Minato hit the warm water, tripping over his feet to land face first into the sea. Kushina’s laughter echoed in his ears when he surfaced. She stood maybe waist deep and Minato wasted no time tackling her into the waves. They played in the waves and under the stars for what felt like hours, splashing and shoving each other.
By the time the air turned cold, Minato’s face ached from laughing. He flopped on the sand and tried to catch his breath. Beside him, Kushina struggled to wring the water from her hair- the sight of her utter concentration for the mundane task, set off another round of laughs from him.
“There,” She announced as she sat with a thump beside him, “Feel better?”
“Yeah.” He agreed, wonderment in his tone. When was the last time, he had just… played? It felt wrong in some ways- so many people had died-
Kushina jabbed him in the side with her elbow. “You’re thinking too hard.” Her expression turned soft, “It’s okay to have fun after… everything. It’s how you’ll find the strength to rebuild, ya know?”
Words fled. Minato swallowed hard. It was a perfect night. The sky was clear, stars flickered in their evening dance. “Does it ever get easier?”
“No.” Kushina replied, setting her head on her knees as she pulled her legs to her chest. “But… we have a belief here that grief is like a storm in the ocean. When it first happens, it’s like you’re in the middle of it. You’re going to be battered with wave after wave of grief and memories that hurt.”
She paused, one hand fidgeting with the cuff of her sleeve. “But, all storms past in time. The waves won’t hit you as often. There will still be things. Little things that send a wave. And there will always be waves in the ocean, but you’ll get better at handling it. So,” She hummed, “the burden doesn’t get easier, but you’ll get better at carrying it, ya know? If that makes sense.”
“I think so.” He sniffed. To his surprise, Kushina shuffled closer. She didn’t touch him, but was close enough he could feel the heat radiating off of her body. “Thanks, Uzumaki-san.”
She snorted at him. “Call me Kushina.”
He nodded, “Then call me Minato.”
“Cool.” Kushina stood up, brushing the sand off and holding out a hand to Minato, her grin bright, “Now come on. Mito-sama is hosting a dinner tonight and I want to see Jiraiya-oji-san squirm.”
With a fragile smile from sore cheeks and heart, Minato accepted the hand and hoped she didn’t throw him into the ocean. Again.