Blonding

Chapter 54 : Responsibility

"You need to leave," Minato said. "It's not safe here anymore."

Kushina opened her mouth, began to say something, then snapped her jaw shut like a cupboard and pouted. "Fine," she said, gathering up the dishes she'd brought with her and moving to stand in the middle of the room. "You go ahead and get yourself killed out here by an angry mob. I'll be sure to put in a good word for your replacement."

Naruto snorted. "You'll have to find her first."

Kushina let out a confused, muffled "Huh?", but before she could finish the thought Minato met her halfway and they both disappeared in a soundless flurry.

"Alright, what now?" Jiraiya said, peeking through the creaky wooden blinds in Hoshu's home and down into the village below them. "Everyone's lined up outside. I don't get it."

"It looks like some kind of ceremony," Minato said, reappearing. "Their leader just died. It makes sense that they have a cultural tradition that dictates what they do next."

"Is it just me," Boruto said from the doorway, frowning, "or is the jungle browner than yesterday?"

Naruto made his way to his son's side and took a look for himself. "Y'know, it sure looks like it."

"We need to get back up to the mountaintop," Minato said. "We were so close. I'm sure of it. There's a chance that even though One died, we'll still be able to figure something out."

Naruto gave his father a skeptical look. "What about these people?"

"What about them?" Minato blinked.

"We can't just come here, take advantage of whatever abilities they have, and then leave," he said, shrugging. "That's just not right."

It wasn't. Naruto didn't need to reflect on his personal history to know that. He bit back the sour feeling in the back of his gut that sullied his opinion of his father, gripped his son by the shoulder in a show of solidarity, and watched the trees shift in the wind.

"Well, at the very least, we should definitely try to do something," he said, not ignoring the way Boruto leaned into his touch.

"There's a congregation of monks up there now," Minato said. "We'll have to wait until they clear out before we can really do much of anything."

"Where's Obito?" Jiraiya muttered, walking across the room and peering into the seating area attached to the opposite end of the kitchen. "Did he run off somewhere?"

"That's a good question," Minato asked.

"Here," Obito said, voice thin and wiry, frayed like rope. He came around the corner of the house, ghosted past Minato, and sank into one of the empty chairs strewn around the table that had served as their base of operations. He stared at the wood graining with his lone, coal-black eye, and waited.

"What's wrong?" Minato asked, blue eyes alight with fear. "Where were you?"

"He's dead," Obito mumbled. He grabbed at his shoulder, clutched at some phantom pain.

"What?" Minato reached out, made to grasp the boy's shoulder.

Obito shirked out of the touch with a hiss of air. "Just... go."