Chapter Text
Minato didn’t know how it happened.
The rasengan was charging up in his hand, whistling as he threw a kunai straight at his opponent’s mask. It passed straight through, just as expected. He moved, ready to teleport behind him to attack—
Instead, he grabbed empty air.
From one moment to the other, the smell of ash was gone, and the distant screaming of the people and the crashing of buildings in the background vanished at once.
His palm landed on grass. Green, healthy grass, wet with dew.
The ground had been charred just now. Where—
A bell rang, accompanied by the laughter of a kid.
“I got one! Ha! Did you see that, Kakashi?”
Minato’s throat went dry. He knew that voice. Had known it. The sun shone into his eyes, and he blinked a few times before things came into view properly.
Obito. Jumping around the meadow, triumphantly waving a tiny bell around and shoving it into the face of a masked boy hidden in a bush, who seemed thoroughly unimpressed.
Kakashi hadn‘t looked that young in a while.
And Obito was dead.
Minato pushed himself up shakingly. Was this a genjutsu? Had the masked man placed one on him? At no point had Minato given him the opportunity… Right?
“You saw that, right? I stole it right off of him!” Obito boasted, his chest puffed out.
Kakashi left the foliage and brushed a few leaves off his shoulders. “Don’t let it get to your head. He was obviously distracted.”
“You just don’t want to admit that I got it faster than you!” Obito stuck his tongue out. “You’re a sore loser.”
“You’re a bad winner.”
None of them paid any attention to him.
It sounded too real, too accurate. No illusion would be able to replicate the exact way those two used to argue, the constant bickering and aimed insults.
Which meant Minato was actually back here.
Which was impossible.
He produced a kunai from his pouch and, without hesitation, drew a shallow line across his forearm. Blood welled up instantly.
Yeah. That confirmed it.
His heartbeat was rising in volume, drowning out the bickering of the boys. This didn’t make sense. To go back in time wasn’t viable, not outside of forbidden jutsus.
And yet, the sun from two years ago was warming his skin.
Minato took a deep breath. Okay. This was happening. No reason to freak out. Analyse the situation, order your thoughts, act carefully.
“Sensei?”
He whipped around.
A small girl with brown hair was looking up at him, brows furrowed. “You’re injured,” she noted, pointing at the red drops falling from his hand.
Rin. Of course she was here too.
Until he would figure out what had just happened, it was safer to play along.
“Ahh, you’re right! I must have missed that.” Minato scratched his neck, praying that his awkward smile didn‘t look as fake as it felt. “You guys have improved quite a lot since the last time we did this exercise.”
“Are you sure?” Rin asked and started rummaging through her pockets for bandages. “I didn’t notice anything different about Obito’s technique. How did he manage to get the bell?”
Minato winced as the bandage was pulled tight around his fingers. “I must have let my guard down.” A dark stain spread through the cotton. Rin hastily ripped off another strip.
“Everyone has bad days, right? I’m sure you’ll recover in no time, sensei!” She tucked the loose ends in and shot an exasperated look toward Obito, who was currently eagerly throwing air punches in Kakashi’s direction. “It‘s kind of enough for me to be patching up one of you.“
A small laugh burst out of Minato, a laugh which cut off too fast when he recalled.
It had taken him less than a minute to nearly get too comfortable in this wrong reality. Less than a minute.
This was dangerous.
“Look, um, Rin,” he blurted out, “I think training’s over for today. Can you tell the guys?”
Rin nodded and set off eagerly. “Kakashi! Obito! Sensei said…” The rest faded off as the distance grew.
Minato stood watching them for longer than necessary. They looked so unburdened, so unaware of their future. His heart ached like someone was binding it with barbed wire.
He was going to fail all of them, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it—not as long as he didn’t know the rules for this displacement, as long as he didn’t know which pillars were load-bearing and which weren’t. If he touched the wrong one, everything might come crashing down.
He was helpless. He hated being helpless. Still, it would stay that way… unless he figured out which moves he could make safely. Unfortunately, he had no idea about that.
Someone did, though.