Chapter 81: Blockage
When Minato was very young, he had always been the target of bullying. Konoha was far from a utopia; it was plagued by cruelty and pettiness like any other place. Minato, who preferred studying to physical training, often found himself singled out by others.
Compared to Kushina, a transfer student as fierce as any man, who blended effortlessly into her surroundings and excelled in physical combat as if she were born for it, Minato could only look at her with envy. He didn't possess her natural strength or boldness, and so, when faced with adversity, all he could do was watch from afar, wishing he had what she did.
Minato's childhood was not a happy one. Yet, he didn't curse his fate or wallow in self-pity. Deep down, he knew something about his situation was wrong. He wanted to be accepted—to be recognized by the people of the village. And so, he set his eyes on the highest dream imaginable: becoming Hokage. If he could achieve that, everyone would acknowledge him.
But then, one afternoon, while he was writing quietly in a corner, a gentle voice spoke beside him.
"Isn't it good to do what you like?"
"Eh? But… it's different from everyone else…"
"No one in this world is the same. Even brothers born from the same parents are two different people."
Under Minato's surprised gaze, a young man a few years older, with kind features, stood before him holding a book on chakra refining techniques.
It was afternoon—the sun was warm and filtered through the leaves in scattered rays. That soft, golden light gathered around the young man, giving him an almost radiant presence.
And in that sunlight, he smiled—kindly, openly—and extended his hand toward the timid Minato. His face showed no hint of judgment, only calm encouragement.
"I'm Aizen Sosuke, the school librarian. Who are you?"
"Namikaze… Minato Namikaze."
"Minato-kun, huh? Would you like to read together? For a ninja your age who enjoys books, I can recommend a few good ones."
"Then… I'll leave it to you."
They didn't spend much time together. Even the title Big Brother Aizen was something Minato had given him on his own.
During that dark period of his life, Kushina had shone brightly like the sun—an unreachable brilliance far above him. But Aizen's outstretched hand was the one that truly lifted him from the abyss.
That hand gave him confidence. Strength. Resolve. From that day onward, even when mocked, he could stand tall and speak back. In a fight, he no longer cowered—he fought with all his heart.
It was after that moment that Minato became the confident, warm-hearted man people knew. It was Aizen who had pulled him out of despair.
No matter how much time passed, Minato would never forget that smile, that sunlight filtering through the trees, and the hand that had reached out to him.
But why was he remembering this now?
Because Brother Aizen was dead.
He was gone.
Staring blankly at the calligraphy and paintings on the table, Minato seemed to see that same gentle figure standing before him again—an illusion conjured by grief.
Three days had passed since Aizen's body was found.
In those three days, Minato had witnessed everything—the brutal autopsy, the organ preservation, even the inspection of Aizen's eyes and pupils.
Because of their close relationship, and because of Aizen's immense importance in Konoha, Minato was required to witness it all—to see the man he admired torn apart, piece by piece, until only bloody fragments remained.
Even Uchiha Fugaku, the future clan head and a close ally of Aizen, had wept tears of blood. His eyes were now dim and clouded with grief. Everyone waited, hoping—begging—for the Hokage to give them an answer.
But three days passed. Three long, agonizing days.
And the Third Hokage still said nothing.
He had fled—just as he had fled when faced with the clans.
Something had to be done.
"Minato, it's been three days… You should eat something."
"...Someone has to pay the price."
"…Minato?"
"Kushina, you know it too. Someone has to pay."
Kneeling before the calligraphy Aizen had once given him, Minato slowly raised his head and met his wife's worried gaze.
From the reflection in Kushina's eyes, Minato saw himself clearly—sunken eyes from sleepless nights, unkempt hair from neglect, and pupils dulled by exhaustion and despair.
He had seen that look before—countless times. It was the expression of those who had lost everything.
Once, Minato had believed that as long as he held the dream of becoming Hokage, he would never fall into hatred's grasp.
But now…
He realized he had been wrong. Completely wrong.
"Three days have passed, and the Mutual Aid Association has broken ties with the Konoha Elders Council."
Looking at Kushina beside him—her haggard face showing signs of exhaustion and emotional collapse—Minato knelt before Aizen's calligraphy, his expression calm yet heavy.
"We've decided to find the truth our own way," he said, his voice low but resolute. "We must uncover what really happened. Brother Aizen must not die in vain. I won't allow his death to become meaningless. You understand, Kushina… when Brother died, there was no turning back for me."
"…There's still time to turn back!"
A loud, commanding voice cut through the still air of the courtyard.
Startled by the familiar tone, Minato glanced at Kushina, whose guilty eyes avoided his, before turning his numb, hollow gaze toward the source of the voice.
There, seated cross-legged in the small courtyard, was a towering figure with wild white hair, a red cloak draped over his shoulders, and a forehead protector marked with the word "oil." The Legendary Sannin, Jiraiya, looked straight at Minato with a grave expression.
"…Master Jiraiya."
"I'm here to stop you," Jiraiya said firmly, rising to his feet. "To stop you from walking the path of darkness, Minato."
Arms crossed, his wooden clogs clicking against the ground, Jiraiya stared at his former student—no longer the bright boy he once knew, but a man consumed by grief and fury.
"Minato, you've fallen into the abyss of suspicion. You're not thinking clearly anymore."
"Rational judgment?" Minato repeated, his voice trembling with restrained rage. He slowly raised his head, and the gentle warmth that once defined him had vanished, replaced by something sharp and broken.
"You call this rational judgment, Master Jiraiya? When Brother Aizen—who dedicated his life to Konoha, who worked tirelessly every day—was nailed to the Hokage Rock like a criminal?!" His voice cracked with fury. "If this is what calm and reason lead to, then I'd rather abandon them entirely!"
"Minato! How could you say that?!"
"Please, don't stop me, Master Jiraiya," Minato said coldly. "The Mutual Aid Association is holding a meeting. As one of Aizen's followers, I have to attend."
"…I see."
Jiraiya sighed deeply, then moved to block the doorway, spreading his arms wide. His red cloak billowed slightly in the wind as he stood firm before Minato's home.
The act itself was symbolic—any skilled ninja could easily bypass such a blockade—but Jiraiya's stance carried meaning. It was a declaration of his will, a refusal to let his student continue down a path that would consume him.
Minato understood that symbolism perfectly. He stared at his teacher for a long moment, his dry lips trembling before he finally spoke in a hoarse whisper.
"…Do you really have to do this, Master Jiraiya?"
"Yes," Jiraiya answered without hesitation.
His gaze hardened. "If I don't stop you now, you'll drown in hatred. You're no longer the young man who once worked to bring prosperity to Konoha. You've become part of a group of zealots blinded by vengeance—a force that will destroy everything Aizen stood for."
"There are many unclear points in Aizen's death," Jiraiya continued. "The Third Hokage is investigating it in secret. Several clans have voiced their own suspicions. What can you possibly achieve by lashing out? What you're doing would only make Aizen grieve, Minato!"
He took a step forward, his voice trembling with sincerity. "Think about what Aizen taught you. He always said—never let hatred rule you. Don't become trapped in that endless cycle. Don't lose yourself, Minato."
But Minato only stared back, his expression distant—almost unreadable.
Then, softly, he muttered, "...If that's the case, then how wonderful it would be."
"Wait—!"
Before Jiraiya could finish, the world seemed to freeze. In an instant, Minato's figure blurred and vanished from sight—then reappeared right before him.
Jiraiya's eyes widened.
That once-gentle face was now completely void of light.
A flicker of blue chakra surged in Minato's palm—shaped like a scalpel made of pure energy. The weapon cut through the air with unnatural precision, pressing against the pressure point in Jiraiya's Blut Vene armor.
The defense shattered almost instantly.
The chakra scalpel slipped through the protective field and touched Jiraiya's skin.
Minato leaned close, his voice faint, almost dreamlike.
"It would be nice," he whispered, "if I were the kind of madman who could ease his anger by simply hitting you, Jiraiya-sensei."
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