Chapter 8: This and That

The rest of the afternoon was spent giving frosty statements at the scene of the crime, walking around the surrounding area looking for clues with attending officers Aoba Yamashiro and Raido Namaishi, and finally at the precinct with Tenzo, delivering their account of Yuugito's murder to Asuma in the police chief's office.

Asuma listened carefully for the first couple minutes, but seemed to dismiss the sniping as a drug dealer's occupational hazard, claiming that the "Chief" wouldn't want them wasting resources on a pointless and obvious case with no real conclusion, though Minato still thought the assassination was too extreme for a drug business like marijuana (and too well-timed). He suspected it was the work the Tailed Beast thieves, trying to keep information about them out of police hands and ears, but it was not Minato's case to work on and Asuma didn't agree with his assessment, so it was likely the incident would be filed as an unresolvable cold case.

Asuma dismissed the two detectives from his office. Tenzo left immediately but Minato hovered at the door, rubbing his still-warming fingers together thoughtfully. "Can you clear something up for me?" he asked once they were alone.

Asuma gave him a stony stare. "Naturally."

"Who is The Chief? You're the chief of police."

Asuma folded his hands together in a way that reminded Minato of the mayor, which made sense considering Asuma Sarutobi was the mayor's son. The hard, calculating look was also similar to the mayor's, as was the feeling of juvenility that Minato felt under his gaze. "Who do you think?"

It was stated in a matter-of-fact way that made Minato feel stupid for asking. He shrugged. Deputy Chief Shiranui was his initial posit, he said, "Is it a nickname for your father?"

"Who else." Asuma said with finality.

"You get along with him?" That may be a breach of professional conduct, but after Minato's weird meeting with the Mayor the other day, he was interested in the internal politics.

Asuma stood up suddenly. "Listen, I know you're used to being your city's golden poster boy for detective showmanship, and getting treated like you walk on air, but I have work to do and I'm not interested in discussing frivolous matters right now, so get out of my office."

Minato stared back with blatant incredulity. He had definitely not been expecting that reaction nor the personal jibe at himself, but he supposed his question was answered. "I apologize. I'll be on my way," he conceded before turning and leaving briskly.

He nearly crashed into Ebisu in the hallway just outside Asuma's office, nearly making him drop a hefty stack of paperwork all over the floor.

"My apologies!" Ebisu sputtered, rebalancing all the papers.

"Ah, no worries, sorry I didn't see you." Minato made sure Ebisu was stabilized before heading on his way to the breakroom for well-earned coffee. His formerly-numb cheeks were now feeling hot and flushed from the change of being out in the cold to being in the heated station (and definitely not any sort of embarrassment, no way). He was also unfortunately reminded that he had ears, when they also regained feeling and started burning.

Tenzo had beaten him to the breakroom and was sitting with Zetsu, both drinking coffee at opposite ends of the table. Other than them, there was one other in the room. Minato approached the man who was standing over the coffee machine and pouring a cup out of the decanter.

"Kakashi," Minato said, "if you've finished all the coffee, I'm afraid I'll have to suplex you."

Kakashi shook the last drops out of the decanter with a pleasant smile. "The time it takes to brew is worth it for freshness, isn't it?"

"Chump," Minato muttered, setting about making a new pot while Kakashi leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee.

He made a face after the first couple mouthfuls. "Hmm, I poured it dry just to mess with you, but now I've got all the grounds from the bottom of the pot in my cup... Wasn't worth it."

"Serves you right for being contrary," Minato smirked. His eyes darted over to Tenzo and Zetsu; they were on the other side of the room. "Any word from Naruto?"
"No, but it's only been a couple days. Can't expect to get much trust or information in that amount of time, can you? He's also got to figure out a way to contact us."

"I wish he hadn't jumped in so carelessly. We should have planned this out better, had a drop-off location, burner phones, at least some why for him to signal help."

Kakashi shrugged. "Leaping before looking is his nature. Any tech we'd have given him probably would've likely gotten confiscated anyway. And trust me, if he's in trouble, the whole city will know it."

"Hmph. I still don't like it. And you were too encouraging, in my opinion." Minato stirred creamer into his coffee and took a swig, bitter and burning.

Kakashi dumped his coffee-ground sludge into the sink and poured himself a new cup. He downed it all in one go. "In my experience, you should take the opportunities that are presented to you. If you take too long to decide, they'll disappear."

The rest of the day was paperwork, of course. The job seemed to be filled with it, one of the Minato's greatest regrets with going into policework. He was sure if he'd become a painter, he would never have spent so much time around filing cabinets and dusty computers, but he accepted it as part of a bigger, grander scheme.

One of Zetsu's secretaries came by his desk every so often to drop another folder without so much as a word. It seems everyone and their grandmother had anonymous tips about the disappearance of the Tailed Beast statues, and apparently it was Minato's job to pore over them and sieve out anything actually helpful. Minato couldn't figure out if it was a punishment for pissing off Asuma or just a way to keep him busy until the next big breakthrough.

So far, every 'tip' they'd gotten was either completely vague or contained blatantly incorrect information.

Four officers suddenly rushed through their area and out the front. Minato jumped to his feet, but none of them stopped to talk. Kakashi, at his own desk, glanced up briefly but showed no other interest. Asuma marched through, yanking his coat off the wall.

"What's going on?" Minato asked, ready to abandon his desk as the sirens started blaring from outside.

"Just a call, we're on it." Asuma tossed the words behind him as he yanked open the door, Genma already waiting outside in a patrol car.

The wailing sirens continued for a moment before quickly fading into the distance. Minato sighed and sat back down. Konoha was a bustling city and it seemed they were always getting calls, but for Asuma himself to head out was unusual based on Minato's first impressions.

He took a moment to chug his entire mug of coffee before settling back in to finish his paperwork.

-H-O-M-E-

When Sasuke said study date, he meant study date, to Sakura's slight disappointment. Not that teaching mnemonics and methods of rote memorization was unenjoyable, it just wasn't the first way Sakura would choose to spend an evening with the cutest guy in school. But beggars can't be choosers, she supposed.

Still, it was nice to be around someone other than her own family for a change. They were sitting in the kitchen memorizing amino acids, books and papers and notecards strewn across the wide dark wood table, when the front door opened. A tall man with unkempt dark hair came into the kitchen.

"Sasuke! I didn't know you were having company." He was carrying a paper grocery bag. "I would've brought flowers or something. Introduce the young lady!"

Sasuke seemed to swallow a deep sigh, then said "Sakura, this is my Uncle Obito. Uncle, Sakura. We're studying."

Sakura waved awkwardly at the man.

"Well, if you've been sitting here since you got back from school, you two must be getting hungry! Brainpower takes energy after all. I was planning on making lasagna, there should be plenty for three. Will you stay for dinner, Sakura?" Obito started unloading his groceries onto the counter, pulling out pans and dishes as he went along. He'd forgotten to take off his shoes.

Sakura glanced at Sasuke, who suddenly looked a bit red in the face for some reason, and back again. "Uh, I don't mean to impose, we're just here to study."

"It's no big deal at all. A friend of Sasuke's is always welcome here, and I make a mean hotdish."

"Lasagna is not hotdish," Sasuke butted in, in a way that indicated this wasn't the first or tenth time this argument had come up. "...but since you've helped me, Sakura, you should at least stay for food."

"Hotdish, casserole, same diff," Obito said.

Sakura giggled when Sasuke rolled his eyes dramatically. She said, "In that case, I'd love to try your cooking. Thank you very much, Mr. Uchiha."

Obito turned about, spices in hand. "Oh no, just Obito, please. I'm no Uchiha. I mean, I am, like it's my name, but I'm a bit of an odd duck around here. I was, I mean. Now it's me and that sour goose." He waved a spatula in Sasuke's direction. "As they say," he continued, adopting a playfully serious voice, "Mr. Uchiha was my father." He started cackling like it was funniest thing he'd heard all day.

While Obito puttered around the kitchen, Sakura and Sasuke attempted to resume their studying but soon the smell of sauteing vegetables and the initially broken concentration made it difficult to fall back into the groove they had going.

After six missed flashcards in a row, Sasuke growled, "Let's just hang out until dinner and drop this for now." He grumpily gathered up all the papers back into their folders. It was sort of funny to see him so emotive, in the social safety of his own home. Sakura supposed he was so used to people gossiping about him and his family, he tried to remain as unreadable as a stone slab in public. And if the upperclassmen weren't muttering about his family's murder, the underclassmen were all following his around with hearts in their eyes.

It was weird but interesting to see him as a real person rather than an idea.

"So, uh, Mr. Obito, what is it that you do?" Sakura asked as a way to pass the time.

"Me? Oh, nothing special, I'm just a caregiver at one of the nursing homes on the east side of the city."

"That seems like a noble job."

"Noble? Hah, thank you, I've never had anything about me described as noble before."

Sakura found that sad for some reason. "But it is. Helping people, I mean. That seems noble to me." She looked at her own intertwined hands in front of her, and noted that Sasuke was silently observing their conversation.

"Hm, yes, I think so too. The rest of my family were all lawyers and pharmacists, and private investigators, so I was viewed as a bit of a deadbeat. But yeah, I like helping people. Feels like I'm making the world a better place, one Bingo game at a time." Obito slid a glass pan out of the oven, carefully removing the tinfoil he had covered it with. "Well, I'm not glamorous or rich, but I'm happy, and that's enough for me."

That was the goal wasn't it, to be happy? Sakura knew that was true for a lot of people out there, but there were just as many who coveted other things: money, glory, control.

I would be content to be happy, she thought. Whatever being happy actually meant.

"The cheese casserole should be done in about forty-five minutes," Obito said cheerfully, heading to the front foyer to finally take off his shoes.

"Cheese casserole," Sasuke mumbled through gritted teeth.

They sat in an awkward silence for a couple minutes, twiddling their thumbs, not wanting to go back to studying but not sure what to do in the meantime. Obito headed to the adjacent room, a living room area with bookshelves and comfy chairs. He plopped down in an armchair. There was a basket next to it, which he bent down to open. There was some sort of knitting project that he pulled out, still wrapped around the long knitting needles. He settled in and began knitting.

Sakura wondered if Sasuke ever knitted. The image of him sitting and knitting some pink socks was unbearably funny and she started chuckling.

"Share with the class?" Sasuke raised an eyebrow at her.

He might kick her out of his house if she explained, and instead she said, "You play chess?"
"Sorry?"
"Chess. The game."

Sasuke blinked. "Yes. We have a set."
"Let's play a game!"

They stared at each other for a stretched out moment, before her expected gaze lifted Sasuke out of his chair. He padded over to the living room and pulled a wooden box off one of the shelves while Sakura cleared all their books and folders off the table.

The chess set was nice, far nicer than any her family would be able to afford. The pieces looked to be made of hand-carved marble, and instead of the regular shapes they were an assortment of strange animals.

"Okay, I'm gonna need some sort of legend for which animal is what piece," Sakura said, picking up one of the pieces for a closer examination.

"They're engraved on the front with the corresponding role, but I'll go through them." Sasuke lined them all up, pointing to each one in turn. "The black and the white sets are different. For the black set, beetles are the rooks; the horses are the knights, easy enough; the turtles are the bishops.

For the black set, the raccoons are the rooks, the cat is the knight; the monkey is the bishop. The fox is the queen and the ox is the king for both the white and the black. Same with the slugs for pawns."

"Who the hell made this?" Sakura turned over the black turtle bishop in her hand. It was heavy. "It's way too convoluted, they were more interested in looking fancy than being playable if you ask me."

She suddenly realized she was insulting Sasuke's lovely chess set to his face and went to apologize, but he started laughing first. "See Obito? I told you so."

Obito didn't even look up from his knitting. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it off birdbrain. That set was made by your dear old grandfather Madara before he kicked the bucket, as a wedding gift. The day you finally come to appreciate it, Sasuke, is the day your ready to get married."

Sasuke scoffed. "I'll never appreciate it."
"Then you'll be an old spinster like me, forever doomed to never be able to reach that one itch on your back and be trapped in the bathroom to die when there's no one to fetch you more toilet paper."

"Can we just use yours?"

That made Obito look up lips pursed. "Use the animals, Sasuke." He went back to his knitting.

Sasuke grumbled again and turned back to Sakura. "Need another rundown of the pieces?"
"Yes please."

By the time Naruto and Deidara returned to the house, his cheeks numb from the biting cold. Stepping through the doorway and letting the warmth roll over him like a gentle waterfall was the blessed relief he needed from the absurd day.

Someone died and I just stood there. Did I kill them by doing nothing? Or did it not matter, if they would've killed that person whether I was there or not? Snowflakes melted off his eyebrows and eyelashes, falling onto his cheeks as little droplets of water on his numb face.

"Yo, what's cooking!" Deidara called as he removed his shoes in the entranceway. Naruto suddenly registered voices further in.

It was Sasori who replied, "Spaghetti. Just served."

Deidara hastened to remove his damp coat and trot into the kitchen. Naruto followed at a sedate pace. Sasori, Kisame, and Konan were seated at the kitchen table, while Itachi served them spaghetti from a pot. He was wearing a frilly apron.

Deidara eagerly grabbed a plate from a stack on the edge of the counter and hopped into an empty seat by Sasori, who immediately scooted a little away from him, holding up the newspaper he was reading like a wall.

It was… insanely mundane. Serial killers and psychopaths sitting like a family at a table. Naruto felt unbalanced, like everything was tilting a little to the left. Everyone was staring at him.

"Spaghetti at this hour?" was the only thing he could say.

Konan glanced at a clock on the wall. "It's 1 p.m. Lunch time."

"Lunch?" Naruto repeated weakly.

"Yes. The meal after breakfast and before dinner."

Itachi dumped a bunch of spaghetti on Deidara's plate. "You get three meals. You won't be hungry," he said shortly, but not unkindly. He grabbed two extra plates, loaded them up, and set them at empty places around the table. He sat in front of one, and gestured for Naruto to take the other.

Naruto took a few tentative steps towards him. "Spaghetti is dinner time food."

"If you're going to be picky, you can go back to eating out of a dumpster," Kisame growled. Naruto plopped down next to Itachi and stuffed a bunch of pasta in his mouth. It was heavily flavored and coated with some sort of creamy cheese sauce. It burned his tongue. He shoveled more into his mouth regardless of the tears forming in his eyes. It was delicious but disgusting, savory seasonings awakening his numb tongue, noodle chunks feeling like blood clots stuck in his teeth. Sage, cardamon, oregano, parsley, asiago, parmesan. More and more, too rounded and deep, too full, too mom. Throat tightening. Was he being strangled? Keep chewing. Naruto couldn't tell if he was still breathing. His gaze was fixed on the noodles in front of him, so he didn't notice Konan and Itachi putting down their forks.

-H-O-M-E-

"Now throw in a pinch of salt."

"How much is a pinch?"

"A pinch is a pinch! Don't overthink it, it all about intuition."

Naruto hesitantly reached into the open container of salt, lightly scooping up a bit in between his first three fingers. He held it out over the pot of boiling spaghetti but didn't toss it in until Kushina gave an encouraging nod.

The kitchen was a complete disaster. It was Saturday. Kurama was out doing who knows what, and wouldn't be back until Sunday evening. The small house seemed to expand, as if in a long deep sigh of relief at the man's absence, window curtains fluttering up to let in the sunlight and the colors becoming soft and pastel. It was easier to make a mess when he wasn't around, and Kushina had wanted to teach her boy how to make pasta from scratch, the way her daddy had taught her when she was a sprout. Naruto was older now, in middle school, but it's never too late to learn! He didn't quite have the knack for cooking, but Kushina's dad was a chef at a hoppin' diner in Southside for near thirty years, and golly would he roll in his grave if he knew his grandson couldn't cook for squat.

Naruto didn't seem to have the knack for anything quite yet. Cooking was a work in progress, painting was pretty much a failure (maybe that was better in the end); sewing, crocheting, drawing, violin, guitar, dancing, weaving, trivia, swimming, braiding, makeup, carving, sculpting… all no good. But no matter, she'd find that one thing he was good at! Maybe gardening next. She didn't want to admit it really, but she was hesitant to let him have control over her little garden. Dead plants meant less food. Maybe start with some flowers.

She turned over long strips of uncooked pasta in her flour-covered hands while Naruto stirred the pot with a ladle.

"Naruto… how do you like Kurama? He's been living here for almost a year now after all."

Her boy stopped stirring for a split second, then continued. He seemed to be mulling the question over. The dough was soft and whispery under her fingers. She waited, but he just kept stirring, now with a weird expression. Contemplative but sort of disappointed in a way. She waited.

Finally, "Why?"

Why? Yes, why? Her job skills were severely lacking. Skills she had, skills galore, but punctuality, consistency, patience, mmm not so much. They never had money for investments, she loved her daddy but he had a bit of a gambling problem. After he died she was pretty much on her own. Getting jobs was easy but keeping them was the trouble. She was blacklisted as a cook the fourth time she poured soup into the lap of a rude customer (they definitely all deserved it), and no one liked her needlepoint enough to buy it.

With Minato… it wasn't much better actually. He was an amazingly talented painter, but the market just wasn't great for that. Bad economy. No one had money to spend on frivolous things like art, and if they did, they were the kind of hoity-toity upper class that only bought from famous people.

She kept getting fired from job after job, and they needed supplement income. No one wanted her skills or personality, so she thought maybe they'd want her body.

She did well with it, but it was hard, exhausting. And she tried to keep it secret, because she thought Minato wouldn't understand. Everything had snowballed in the worst way...

She realized she was pregnant five weeks after Minato left. The boyfriends came and went, some purely as a money well, and some purely for the comfort they provided in lonely evenings. Kurama was a bit of both.

She knew he had a bit of a rude streak, had waited until Naruto went to bed to have angry whispered conversations about teenage emotional vulnerability, and please stop teasing him, it's bad for his self esteem, I know his hair is crazy but it can't be tamed so just stop pointing it out. But in the end, Kurama stuck around, far longer than the others.

Some days, after she saw Naruto off to school, she crawled back into her bed and stared at the wall until he announced he was home and the sun had suddenly started to fall below the horizon. Kurama had his faults, we all do, but he was always willing to pet her hair gently when she was upset, and provide money for them to keep Naruto in warm clothes and the lights on, and whisper winding pointless stories about his childhood or the things he did that day as they lay in bed. Sometimes, when she was too out of mind to be able to fix her own hair, Kurama would sit with her and brush it for her, plaiting into a lovely french braid. He wouldn't be caught dead admitting it for any reason other than to keep her from attacking him during the night, but when he did it, she could close her eyes and pretend the worker's hands were Minato's delicate fingers and if she looked in the mirror, she would see his sun-gold hair and ocean eyes, and she could be happy.

"He makes me happy." She hadn't realized she said it out loud, and it didn't really answer Naruto's question.

He seemed briefly surprised but quickly gave her a toothy grin, the same grin she used to give when she put dinner on the table for him and then sat down to a cup of tea because there was only enough food for one and said she wasn't hungry at all. "If he makes you happy, then I'm happy."

She rolled some of the dough between her fingers, fixated on the texture. "Naruto, you know I love you, right. You're my boy. My only boy."

They looked at each other and somehow seemed sad. "I know," he said. "I love you too mom."

-H-O-M-E

Naruto roughly swallowed his mouthful of spaghetti, somehow without choking. He was dimly aware of tears streaming down his face, though his mouth was no longer burning. His fork clattered to the table and his hands shook.

"Too spicy?" Kisame sneered. Sasori whacked him with the newspaper.

Naruto stared at his empty hand, which he swore had a fork in it just a second ago. Itachi got up from the table and went rifling through a cupboard before coming back with a plastic container, which he carefully scraped the rest of Naruto's lunch into.

"Let's leave this in the fridge for later." he said as explanation. Naruto sat glued to his seat, shaky hands coming up to clutch at his chest. He felt fluttery, like his heart was pounding but not really beating at all. He might float away if not for the lead in his stomach.

Hands gently rested on his shoulders, then tightened and guided him out of the seat. He really was a balloon, going where leaded. Were his feet touching the ground?

He clenched his eyes shut and managed a pitiful croaking moan. Blindly going where pushed, suddenly dizzy, world spinning, up and down, underwater, can't breathe, choking, falling.

Naruto opened his eyes and it was dark and stuffy. Where was he? In the mill? At mom's? A slightly numb hand reached out and met the soft blanket that was covering him.

An exaggerated shove pushed it off his face, which he regretted when the light spilling in from the windows assaulted his groggy eyes. His mouth was bitter and dry, as if he had vomited. Probably had.

He looked around, squinty eyed, trying to figure out where he was. On a couch. There was a ceiling fan. A chair. A man in the chair. The man was reading a book. Nagato. He looked up.

"Evening."

Naruto stared uncomprehendingly.

Nagato rested the book in his lap. "I heard you did well while on your trip with Deidara. Not so much afterwards." Naruto said nothing. "We agreed to have you delegated to running supplies for now. No violence necessary."

Cotton candy promises then.

"Hm," Naruto replied, arm hanging limply off the couch. Nagato watched him silently. That's creepy, isn't it. Let me go. I want to go home. No home. No mom. No escape. Why was he here?

Kakashi's face came to mind. And that other guy's, the blond officer. The mole! Naruto had to find the mole! He had a job to do. His eyes darted over to Nagato, who had resumed reading his tome.

Okay, a blundering couple of days to start. Knock 'em off their guard, make them think he was just some harmless dumb kid who barfed a lot and had anxiety, who wanted justice, or revenge, and was willing to put aside some morals to get it.

Well… that he was, mostly. Easy enough to have them underestimate him then. He just had to come up with some way to get more information on Daybreak's inner workings, using his amazing skills: barfing and panicking.

Let's leave the awesome plan-making for when I don't have a pounding headache.

-H-O-M-E-

As he was a detective and not technically an on-call officer, Minato was not obligated to wait for Asuma and the other to return before clocking out. He did, for a while at least, but it seemed clear they wouldn't be returning any time soon and he was terribly hungry and tired. Just that morning he was inches from being shot by a sniper, but it felt like days ago.

He opted to walk home today. The city was dark and quiet, but in a foreboding sort of way rather than a peaceful calm. Pedestrians hurried on, huddled in their hoods. Minato half expected anyone with hands in their pockets to whip out a revolver and shoot him down. He didn't know why. He never felt this on edge when he first lived here, did he? It was hard to remember so long ago. Almost half a lifetime, really. But he did remember Kushina, her silky ruby hair, her boisterous belly laugh, the glow-in-the-dark stars she glued to their ceiling.

Minato returned to his apartment after the long day, ready to drop onto the bed and fall asleep with his shoes on. But he ate and cleaned and changed. When he picked up his police jacket from where he'd tossed it on his bed earlier that morning, he noticed a small piece of paper tumble out.

"Hello!" he muttered, putting the jacket aside and gingerly holding the paper up. He carefully unfolded it by the corners to reveal a typed message in standard font.

Eagle fountain in Konoha City Park Gardens. October 10, 10 pm. Make sure you are not followed.

"Well, it's to the point, I guess." Minato looked on both sides of the paper for any kind of signature or indication of who it was from, but couldn't find any. No smudges or hints of invisible ink either. How long had it been resting inside his coat sleeve, and who could it have come from? He had shaken hands with the mayor that morning, but it hardly seemed becoming of such a regal political figure to go around slipping creepy notes into guests' sleeves.

In the police station he usually hung up the coat in the lounge, where any number of people could have planted the note while he was engrossed in his work or taking a bathroom break. He suddenly felt like giving himself a mental slap for leaving his things unguarded in a place he knew for a fact Daybreak had a mole sneaking around.

Maybe I should be more careful about where I leave my possessions. It wouldn't do to have someone sneak a tracker into my pocket or a microbomb under my collar.

He should probably consider himself lucky something like that hadn't happened yet.

October 10 was this Saturday, just two days away, giving him two days try and figure out who wrote the note and what their intentions are. He didn't particularly feel like waltzing into an ambush or another murder.

Minato ran a hand through his hair, rejuvenating his hat hair back to its usual wild state, and puttered around his kitchen. Organizing dishes helped organize his thoughts in a way.

The next two days passed by somewhat uneventfully. Minato didn't hear anyone talking about Yugito's murder, which confirmed his suspicion that it would be unjustly left to the wayside. He and Tenzo had dropped by the Queen Bee dinner during the lunch rush as Yugito had suggested in hopes of finding the elusive B, but he hadn't appeared either day. Try, try again.

The obits of the remaining guards killed in Daybreak's attacked were published in the newspaper, as were more suppository articles written by Sai C. which praised the police department for days gone by without deadly attacks. In Harbor City, a lack of crime was considered the norm, not a pleasant exception. I guess snipings don't count as deadly attacks? I definitely wouldn't want Jiraiya living here. Minato could hardly believe he himself had lived here, and for a good chunk of time, too. Though at the time he was often preoccupied with his art and carding his fingers through silky red hair, nights spent watching old black and white films in candlelit rooms.

Now, it was October 10th, and he was making his way through the snow of the Konoha City Park in the dark. He'd brought the note to the station's latent printing lab, but the only fingerprints lifted were his own. No other clue about the writer of the note existed, so he was left to his own speculations. He had his cellphone in one pocket with dispatch on speed-dial and a concealed carry permit in the other, his handgun snugly fitted to his ribcage. Off-duty officers were meant to have their firearms locked at the police station, so his was a personal possession (though he'd noticed that Asuma's locker was always empty, even on his days off, as were several others).

There were a good deal of children playing in the snow, making forts and tunnels, ignoring the cold in favor of fun. Minato almost wished he could shed his responsibilities and join them.

He'd scoped out the fountain earlier that morning, but found nothing amiss. Just civilians enjoying what was left of the flowers as they wilted under the snow and frost, sitting around the fountain with the artfully rendered eagle statue with coffee and warm breakfasts. Two middle-aged men sitting side by side on a bench, a mother and a child picking at plants, and a group of three teenagers heckling each other about some recent movie.

He'd tried to memorize the faces of the people there, in case they appeared tonight. If he had arrived early to check out the meeting spot, he had to assume that whoever he was meeting would do the same, undercover. The mother, the woman with dark curly hair and striking eyes, was suspect to him just by being the least suspicious, that is to say, being with a child. The two older men had been quietly chatting, watching the goings-on around the fountain. Their observing made them most obvious contenders, which in Minato's mind put them at the bottom of his suspect list. After all, any reasonable person trying to avoid suspicion while undercover would busy themselves with some inane thing, blending into the background. But perhaps they were acting obviously watchful in order to evoke this very thought from Minato so he would dismiss them. His mind walked itself in several more circles by the time he reached the fountain. Nothing for it but to just meet face to face, he supposed.

He treaded down the garden path, wilting plants reaching out to him from both sides. He took quick stock of his surroundings upon entering the fountain area, barely lit by two golden lamps. Two teenagers sitting on the stone of the fountain itself looking forlorn and, well, teenagerly. A man on the bench reading a newspaper in the dim light of one of the lampposts, bundled up with a scarf over most of his face. Another bench occupied by a large bundle, someone homeless looking for respite Minato guessed.

He hovered for a moment, taking a peek at his phone. 10:03 pm.

The man reading the paper looked up and seemed to recognize Minato. He waved and rolled up the newspaper in his bag and stood up, beckoning Minato to follow as he strolled down another of the dark garden paths. Minato hesitated for just a moment before following. The teenagers glanced briefly in his direction but didn't seem too interested.

He didn't sense any imminent danger in the darkness, but his intuition had been wrong before. He followed the man deeper into the gardens, where lamps were few and far between. Once sufficiently blanketed in the shadows, they stopped, surrounded by husks of mostly dead sunflowers and tall grass. Minato had zippered his coat only halfway, hands by his sides but ready to dart in and grab his gun. The man turned.

"Thank you for coming Minato." That voice. The man pulled down the scarf, pushed up his hat, revealing his face.

"Oh, it's you," Minato said.

-H-O-M-E-

A/N: Let! Obito! Be! Happy!

You guys….. You have kept me alive with your faves and reviews, seriously. I started this story SO many years ago, it was just a fun little thing and I never really expected anyone to read it. I've been blown away by the lovely reviews and the many messages I have received regarding this story. Sorry it took me like a year to get this out, relative to my last update, and it's not as long as I would've liked…

Most of this time was rereading my previous chapters and trying to piece together the outlines I've made to figure out what I was planning to happen next. To be honest, it feels like I'm in for the ride as much as you all are, but I do have big plot things planned out. If I continue at the same pace, this story is about 1/4 finished…

This chapter literally would not have happened if all you kind folks hadn't left comments and messages saying that you like this story and want more! So thank you all :)