There is no more need for the tests. Ibiki established a week ago that Minato was human. Alive. Real. Reanimations didn’t bleed, after all. Didn’t require the sleep that Minato did, nor did they require food or basic human functions as Minato did.
He still has yet to leave the cell they call his room. It is what it is – a cell. Revealing him to the general public without an explanation is too risky for now. Food is brought three times a day, he is allowed a shower once a day, yet outside of that, contact is limited to those in the know out of necessity for now.
Minato tells himself that this is fine. It’s necessary, after all.
He tells himself this every day, otherwise, he would have gone insane with the lack of real contact by now.
Once the tests are complete, Itachi gets the results in the form of a report.
They’re everything he wanted. Alive, not under anyone’s control. There is the small downside of him being a Jinchuuriki, and even when he thinks of it in terms of of the Leaf having the full power of the Kyuubi, it still makes him somewhat uneasy.
But he can’t visit right away. As much as he wants to (one, two, three appointments are made…), he is still Hokage, and his village needs him.
But a full two weeks later, Itachi’s work is neatly finished, stacked on his desk, and his assistant is informed the rest of the day is his. It’s…unlike Hokage-sama to actually take time off, but she doesn’t question it, perhaps it’s a holiday of some sorts.
Itachi’s steps are quiet, completely unaided by any sort of guard detail for this.
“Minato-san.” A soft call, key in his hand, because he’s not talking through the bars.
Their surprise is a surprise within itself. Had Itachi told no one of what Minato had one with the Kyuubi that night? It had been a risk, taking half of it into the jaws of death with himself, but a necessary one.
“You won’t get any resistance from me. I’ll keep the Kyuubi in line if I can.” He promises, looking directly at Santa. “Although, if necessary, an Uchiha with the ability to control the Kyuubi may be necessary if he doesn’t cooperate.”
Better to be safe rather than sorry, after all.
Itachi had not been aware. This he will be informed of later.
Santa nods, with one last glance towards Ibiki. There were plenty of Uchiha in the village, so bothering Lord Fifth wouldn’t be necessary.
Now, he faces Minato again, creating his hand seals and making eye contact.
The restraints don’t hurt, but Minato knows he’s not getting off of this table without others to help him. The numbness in his hands isn’t as bad at the least. He can feel pinpricks of pain as feeling begins to return to them.
Giving the Yamanaka a small smile, Minato glanced at the needle briefly. “If it’s all the same, I’d rather not have the sedative. I don’t think the fox will play very nice if I’m not there to ease the situation.”
He remembered, oddly, making a sort of truce with the Kyuubi whilst they were trapped together. But at the same time, he remembered the way the fox had tormented him for what felt like centuries as well.
“Just be careful.”
It brings Santa to a halt. He glances between the other interrogator, and they seem to trade questions in complete silence. There really is no other way to interpret the word ‘fox’, and this makes the plans all the more confusing.
Lord Fifth mentioned nothing about a fox.
“That’s going on the report.” Ibiki mutters, folding a few pages over the back of the clipboard to jot that down. Seems like it’s important if there are two Jinchuuriki running around. Was that even possible? Maybe, but Minato hadn’t lied to them about anything yet.
Lips drawn together, Santa sets the syringe down on the counter, drawing his right hand up into a seal.
“Then please do not resist me, Lord Fourth.” It was going to be difficult already, if the Kyuubi truly resided within him.
He isn’t surprised to see Ibiki here. As far as Minato could recall, this man had always been the best within the interrogation department. “I’m not entirely trusting of myself, but even I can tell you that I’m a threat.” It’s a simple fact. Minato could destroy a lot of lives before his own would finally be snuffed out.
Standing willingly, he had promised cooperation at the least, and Minato follows them down, down, blue eyes squinting at the bright light. Even with the cuffs removed, he’s fully aware that he can’t possibly take all of them.
So Minato lays on the table, shoving down the instinct that tells him to fight back. To run, to escape –
He complies instead. Best to get this over with.
Minato’s only answer for the moment is a gruff noise in agreement from Ibiki. Yes, he was a threat, technically. So were the ANBU, if they decided to turn face and sliced him up. So was Ibiki, who had a wealth of information other villages would kill to be able to strip from him. Every shinobi was a threat on some level.
Ibiki’s job was to figure out if someone else could possibly control Minato against them. Nothing on if the man turned traitor completely on his own.
The assistants quickly move in. Minato is strapped securely, and some of the wrappings on his fingers are removed, to allow them to breathe. They’re kept in twos, but allowed to rest.
“I’m Yamanaka Santa.” The orange-haired assistant, a man, greets him, finally.
“It’s an honor working with you, sir.” And an apologetic smile follows, tapping at the tip of a needle in his hands.
“It’s a sedative. I’m going to be digging around in your mind for anything someone could’ve planted.”
As much as he tries, there’s truly very little rest that he gets that night. His hands go numb at some point as the hours pass, unused to being held in one position for long. He settles back, is able to get perhaps a few hours here and there, but nothing that allows him to feel truly rested.
His mind is in too much of a whirlwind for the rest of the night, concerns coming up far too easily for him to properly do anything. Minato wants to know how he was brought back, wants to know why, but he remembers nothing past the day he had died.
Blue eyes flicker up upon seeing the shinobi enter, and he offers a nod to the man. There are visible bags under Minato’s eyes, his clothes are rumpled. But he sits up despite this, holds on to what pride that he can.
“Ibiki-san.” The name comes to mind after only a moment. He’s mentally preparing as best he can for what is to come.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” Minato tries for a smile that probably resembles a grimace more than anything.
“Deducing if you’re a sleeper agent. Or a time bomb. Or both.” Same thing. He wasn’t going to stick around for pleasantries, flicking over the pages to see the routine tests he and Lord Fifth agreed upon. Nostalgic man, wasn’t he? Wanted to go in really gentle. They were shinobi, they could take more. Orders were orders in the end.
“Against all sound logic, you’re back. Guess we have to see if we can keep you.” Didn’t look a damn day older than the day the fox attacked.
At his signal, the ANBU come forward to unlock the cell, surrounding Minato and pulling him up to stand. One hand hooked into each arm, Minato is led outside the cell, and the group follows Ibiki back out.
It’s a bit of a walk. Down, down, down, with twisting stares and a door each thicker than the last. But the room is brightly lit, at least. Minato is led to a tilted metal block.
The cuffs are removed, guards keeping a perfect triangle three steps back.
“Make this easy on us and lay down. You’ll be strapped in.”
All the while, Minato holds still, already accepting of whatever they chose to do with him. He nods to Itachi, giving the current Hokage a small smile. “Thank you.” He knows that this is protocol, and so when the ANBU take a hold of him, Minato doesn’t fight it.
He follows them out of the room, offering no resistance as he’s lead from the office and, after a while, into a holding cell. His wrists are bound, one in front, the other behind his back. Fingers separated as Itachi had ordered, seals applied, and then he’s sat down in a chair. Just a precaution, Minato keeps telling himself as he closes his eyes.
It was just a precaution.
“Rest well, Lord Fourth.” The final ANBU to leave the room tells him. A woman’s voice. Her hand lingers on the door for a moment, but she too eventually slips out.
Itachi finally returns to his desk. He will work without his robes for the rest of the day, leaning them over his chair so they can be washed when he returns home. The work has piled up in those few critical hours, but he’s always been good at getting what he needs to, done, and by the time the sun is setting, his desk is clear.
Mother notices something is off, immediately, when Itachi returns home. She visits daily, to make sure Itachi is getting properly fed, as well as giving him updates on Naruto, who flits inbetween the home his parents chose, and Itachi’s small abode.
But Itachi is also not at leisure to simply tell her about it, and she’ll trust in her son– her eldest, who achieved a position most Uchiha thought impossible, to get through it. She’s here, for anything. Even if just blind support.
When the sky is truly dark, she leaves him for the night, Naruto nestled up in her arms, deep asleep. Itachi cleans up the plates, and readies himself for bed. In the morning, it is the same routine he’s followed, minus chasing a blond around for fifteen minutes to get him to put pants on.
Ibiki makes a visit to his office at 9:10AM. They discuss what is to be done to Minato, and the lines they are not allowed to cross, unless it can be proven without the shadow of a doubt that Minato was being used as a sleeper agent.
Itachi will not attend.
At 9:45 AM, the padded door at the end of the cells opens, heavy footfalls coming closer. It is Ibiki, followed closely by five other ninja. Two of his interrogators, three ANBU. A different rotation than yesterday.
“Lord Fourth.” He greets, with a respectful nod, glancing down at his clipboard.
Itachi gives Minato a soft nod. Gives him chakra gently, unsure of what the seals do, exactly, but willing to help. Itachi trusts his judgement in others a fair bit, and doesn’t at all believe that Minato is as dangerous as he’s telling him. Perhaps that’s a mistake, but usually he’s been right. He’ll take that chance.
When Minato is through with his ritual, Itachi takes a hold of the other’s wrists, helping him up slowly.
“One hand in front, the other in the back.” Keeping his tone soft. It’s a request between two friends, not a demand made from a village leader to a threat. Once more Itachi nods, but this time, it is to allow his ANBU guards to open the door and re-enter the office.
He wants it to be crystal clear this isn’t done to humiliate Minato. This is simply precaution, that Minato himself said was necessary.
“I will have interrogation see you at it’s earliest convenience. Please wait until then.”
Separating the hands meant seals could not be formed. For most shinobi, anyways.
That bit of chakra imbued inside of the seals feels like a blessing to the man. He visibly relaxes as the ink settles, can feel each and every sense dampening to a more manageable level, something that doesn’t make him want to tear at his flesh in order to focus on something other than too much.
He’s grateful that Itachi had trusted him, even though there’s a part of Minato that wishes the toher had questioned him about the seals.
Minato stands, feeling like a weight had lifted from his chest, gaze briefly flickering to the ANBU that enter the office. Complying, one hand going behind his back, the other still in front of him, he gives Itachi’s wrist a gentle squeeze before releasing it.
“I can still do seals with only one hand.” He may as well warn him. Precautions were necessary in this case.
The ANBU, three of them– glance between each other. Itachi doesn’t have to be a mind reader to know what they’re thinking. In cases like this, fingers are usually broken pre-emptively or outright cut off for more dangerous people. But Itachi doesn’t want to go that far, even if a skilled medic could heal the wounds later on.
“Please separate his fingers by twos, and curl the index and middle into each other. Keep the thumb flat against the side.” He reaches in to demonstrate, even as the officers visibly tense. “With sturdy bandages and an additional seal.” He adds.
“He’s growing bigger every day.” And all the talk about the Uchiha keeping the Jinchuuriki was dying down, the longer Naruto lived. “Full of energy, curious about everything.”
While he speaks, he reaches for Minato’s right, dipping his fingers gingerly into the pot. This level of cooperation will make it safer on the both of them.
“Always trailing Sasuke around.”
Minato doesn’t ask if he can see his son, because as he is now? He wouldn’t. Couldn’t trust himself near the boy. To hear that he’s taken care of is more than enough for him for now.
“Thank you.” Itachi had kept his promise. Had taken care of his son, even when he didn’t really have to do so. The collar did help in calming him and he begins working, ink stained fingers carefully, skillfully, drawing the fuuin onto his left arm. Working in silence, until Minato has to repeat the action with his right arm, until both hands are stained in ink and the seals are in place.
“They just-” He takes a breath, not use to any sort of help from anyone, “Chakra. Please.”
Itachi gives Minato a soft nod. Gives him chakra gently, unsure of what the seals do, exactly, but willing to help. Itachi trusts his judgement in others a fair bit, and doesn’t at all believe that Minato is as dangerous as he’s telling him. Perhaps that’s a mistake, but usually he’s been right. He’ll take that chance.
When Minato is through with his ritual, Itachi takes a hold of the other’s wrists, helping him up slowly.
“One hand in front, the other in the back.” Keeping his tone soft. It’s a request between two friends, not a demand made from a village leader to a threat. Once more Itachi nods, but this time, it is to allow his ANBU guards to open the door and re-enter the office.
He wants it to be crystal clear this isn’t done to humiliate Minato. This is simply precaution, that Minato himself said was necessary.
“I will have interrogation see you at it’s earliest convenience. Please wait until then.”
Separating the hands meant seals could not be formed. For most shinobi, anyways.
He’s immensely grateful, being allowed this small mercy. At the least, it feels as if Minato is in control of his own mind and body to a point. He has no real anger, no real desire to attack Itachi.
Although he’d prefer the collar to be removed, he also understands why Itachi is taking such a precaution. He’s not sure what he could say to fill in the silence – and a sudden memory of a crying child strikes him.
“Naruto – How is he?” He asked, looking from the small glass pot up to Itachi. His son. His baby boy, who he could only hope was raised in a good environment. He doesn’t take the pot of ink just yet, unsure if any movements would be considered a threat just yet.
“He’s growing bigger every day.” And all the talk about the Uchiha keeping the Jinchuuriki was dying down, the longer Naruto lived. “Full of energy, curious about everything.”
While he speaks, he reaches for Minato’s right, dipping his fingers gingerly into the pot. This level of cooperation will make it safer on the both of them.
UchihaSavior 