A MinaKushi Fanfiction

"The Obvious and the Oblivious"

. . .

I

She defends him.

He stands beside her, stupefied and alarmingly enchanted. He watches her arms flail over her head, watches her red hair thrash as the harsh winds blow. And he reads her lips, unable to hear the words of refute that punctuate her tense demeanor and seizes his attention.

"You cannot punish him for doing what is right! It is not his fault that he had the capability to find and get to me first—"

"He should have followed orders," the captain interrupts, taking a threatening step forward. But she is stubborn, and she is unafraid, facing him directly, her hands on her hips, eyes alight with retaliation, her teeth gritting in displeasure.

He doesn't hear it. He doesn't hear her aggressive response; her sigh of aggravation. Yet his gaze follows the arch of her cupid's bow, the crease of her forehead, the upturn of her nose, and he thinks… she has never looked more mesmerizing.

And when the ANBU steps back, bowing politely—stiffly—he acknowledges she's frightening all on her own.

It is the first sign.

.

.

.

He just has not realized it yet.

II

Everyone notices it.

She expresses her sentiments avidly, although quite peculiarly. It is neither in her deliberate desire to talk to him nor in her eagerness in seeking his company; those quirks typical of the Uzumaki clan. It is in the little oddities in her behaviour when around him that gives it away.

It is the mischievousness gleaming in her eyes and the way she always somehow insults him. It is the calm, the cloaked delight each time she watches him train. It is in the glares and the softness crinkling the sides of her eyes when she looks at him—she looks at no one else the same way.

He is far more discreet, but his discretion is what makes his developing affection rambunctious and blatant. He is loquacious, he is expressive, yet in her presence his silence deafens the room, his rigid passiveness humours the crowd. Perhaps it escapes his attention, but his lips thin and his fingers flex whenever her attention is occupied by a boy who isn't him.

Everyone notices it.

Everyone but them.

III

He is developing wonderfully, exceeding all expectations, and she refuses to lag behind.

As she walks along the market street, passing overzealous vendors and particular customers, she hears their excited chatter, their exaggerated rumours. She hears his name and hears his accomplishments whispered amongst the crowd. There are criticisms, but the praises and admiration of the talent such a young boy possesses outnumbers every critique.

Her lips curl in exasperation as she enters Ichiraku, placing her order with a huff before seating herself in between her teammates.

"Well, Minato has certainly outdone himself again," Kizashi grins, sliding his bowl of ramen towards him and grabs a pair of chopsticks, "Itadakimasu!"

"Doesn't he always?" Hyuuga Hizashi replies.

"Heh, of course."

Kushina listens, letting them list off his skills, glorify his achievements made in the midst of war. She refuses to let herself contribute to such frivolous conversation. Idly, she wonders if Minato realizes just how irritating he is to her. Whether he is around the village or away from it, his presence invades her life, occupying her thoughts, stealing her peace of mind.

She growls and swiftly slurps her noodles, ungracefully downs her broth then slams the empty bowl on the counter, startling the store owner and her teammates.

The screech of her stool when she forcefully pushed it back pricks her ears, but she disregards it, her breath heavy as she sends a fierce look to the boys. "Let's go. We have to train."

"Training?" Kizashi protests with an incredulous gasp, "but I haven't eaten yet!"

"Let's go," the red head grits, not looking back as she hurries out of the stall.

Hizashi sighs, fishes some change from his pockets and places it next to their half-eaten ramen. "Let's just go. I rather like my limbs intact."

IV

Puberty does him good, and she was uncertain if it is something she should hate or love.

Minato has always been a cute child; the kind of cute young girls squeal about, the kind of cute pregnant mothers wish their child would be. Wherever he goes, he draws attention like a fire would a moth.

Year after year, slowly yet certainly, he loses all that makes him cute and gains all that makes him exquisite. His face becomes slender, his jaws more defined. He grows a height neither too short nor too tall and his consistent shinobi training hardening his sinews, toning his solid built.

Now, he doesn't catch attention. Now his blonde hair and confident stature command it.

Each time Kushina sees him in the vicinity, she notices how quick the heads turn and the way curiosity follows his movements. Her brow ticks with every embellished giggle, every ridiculous flattery that flows out the mouths of addle-brained women. Her fists ache to punch every girl, every boy, who were daring enough to ask him out or seek his help with training as an excuse to get closer to him.

Her breath hitches and her chest tightens every time she hears him say 'Yes.'

They don't know that his eyes are his most valuable feature and not his body or talent or intelligence. Those deep cerulean eyes of his… she could stare at it for hours on end, running her fingers through his hair as she discerns every emotional conflict, every wishful desire he hides from everyone else.

Yet she admires this trait of his; the amount of attention he gets by merely standing at the edge of a roomful of busy people. And she just knows he would make a wonderful Hokage one day.

V

She does not know it, yet it's because of him she strives to be better.

Every critique of his, every galling—she takes it to heart, pushing her to practice and practice and practice until she gets it just right only so she could prove him wrong. If he pointed out her stance is too wide, she would attempt to beat him to the ground, then in her own time, she would correct it. If he tells her she is too hasty, she will glower at him, quite rudely question his abilities then rehearse composure so she could think before acting.

And as she stands in the middle of the arena surrounded by overly eager spectators, she reminds herself of all that he has taught her.

"Is that all you can do, Kushina? You disgrace every other kunoichi out there!" Her opponent's words are crude, spitefully meant to attack her spirit and beat her confidence.

She averts her gaze to her feet, allowing her flaming locks to curtain her from the scrutinizing gazes. Her hands ball into fists as she breathes a lungful of air, holding it in until her temper simmers down.

"Come on little girl, I don't have all day to play with you." Her mouth twitches at the derogatory nickname and rage boils through her veins. She bites down on her tongue. "In the least, try to attack me. Your feeble attempts are laughable."

She could hear the incredulous gasps of people when the wind picks up speed and her chakra continues to grow erratic, swirling violently around her, whipping up dust and debris. Panicked murmurs pound her ears, yet all she could focus on are the taunting remarks of the boy standing a few feet in front of her.

"Won't you run home to momma cry—"

He never finishes his sentence.

.

.

.

She stiffens when a hand clamps down on her shoulder. Turning her head, she sees him, thin-lipped and forehead creasing, his eyes perusing hers intensely.

"That temper of yours never ceases to surprise me."

"Urusai baka! You're supposed to be nice and congr—"

"I'm proud of you, though."

And she glares at his retreating back until he veers at a corner and he is out of sight, but she couldn't suppress the smile tugging on the edge her lips any longer.

To her, his critical words equal the value of a thousand compliments.

(o6/03/2016) Re-edited