Six Years Too Long

Chapter 4

Third person pov

Naruto decides that he's dreaming. He must be. There's no other explanation for this that makes sense. Minato speaks to Naruto's shadow-- Kakashi, he guesses-- in a low tone, as though not wanting to disturb him, rubbing his hand up and down his back in the most comforting way possible. Naruto thinks it's the nicest anyone's ever been to him.

Naruto can't stop sniffling and hiccupping, finally able to stop crying after who knows how long. He keeps waiting for the ball to drop. For this man to throw him to the ground and laugh in his face for daring to hope, or having the audacity to think he was actually worthy of something like this. Naruto can almost hear the taunts drifting past his ears. He grips the man tightly, waiting. 

It still hasn't happened. More and more time passes and the man is still holding him, loving him. Naruto has never felt loved before. It feels nice and warm, and he never wants it to end. The seconds keep crawling by and he's still being held. Still being murmured too and told how happy his dad is to have him. His dad. 

Naruto can't believe it. He refuses to pull back, afraid it'll all end if he dares. He stays with his face planted in his father's shoulder, soaking it all in and trying to remember how to breathe. He can't fully wrap his head around it. He doesn't know if this is real, but it's the best day of his life either way. Even if it's a trick. Just to experience this-- it's everything.

Minato eyes Naruto's small apartment with barely-masked distaste and horror. He can hardly process the fact that his son lives here. This is not the place for a child! 

The wooden floors were cracked and scuffed, peeling up at the edges and warped from water damage. There's visible mold growing and plaster flaking off in chunks. He doesn't even want to know what the stains on the ceiling are from. It smells of stale ramen and mildew, and the window has a hole in it covered by tape and a chunk of cardboard. 

The place is about as far from healthy as you can get. Minato can hardly stand it, his heart clenching uncomfortably. He tightens his grip on his son minimally. Naruto isn't going to step into this place ever again if he has anything to say about it. No more sleeping on a dingy mattress that looks no more than an inch thick. He's going to have a real home.

"Help me get what he needs. I don't want to stay here any longer than we have to." Minato requested, eyes roaming the place. A few drawings Minato will most definitely framing are tacked up on the wall, and a calendar hangs by his fridge, which is ancient even by Minato's slightly-outdated standards. Kakashi gave a nod, producing a sealing scroll from one of the pouches on his leg.

"You got it, Sensei." Kakashi glanced around. Naruto's apartment had always made his nose scrunch up, but it was even worse without his ANBU mask on. He'd be glad to never see it again. "I've got to warn you; he doesn't own much." 

"For now." Why did Minato's smile look so threatening? Kakashi was too happy to have him back to care.

Gathering Naruto's things up didn't take long. He had a few plush toys that Kakashi had gotten him, as well as a nightcap. The pile of clothes he owns is too small to even be considered a complete load of laundry. Minato gave it a disdainful look, vowing to get the boy more of everything. More toys, and clothes, and academy supplies. 

The scrappy notebook Kakashi drags out and the stubby pencils are cheap and have been sharpened to half their length, with erasers used down to nubs. Minato mentally took stock of everything, watching Kakashi toss a small frog wallet onto the pile. He couldn't help but smile at the sight. Maybe his son was partial to toads, or perhaps that had been solely his student's doing.

Naruto risked peeking up as Minato bent down to pick up the worn out blanket Jiji had gifted him. He didn't pull back, simply eyeing the pile over his dad's shoulder when the man turned around. He was startled to see all his meager belongings piled up that way. He immediately felt himself tense, his chest squeezing uncomfortably.