I've been promising Tamera a Kakashi/Yondaime fic for a while now...

Unfortunately, suffering through 3 computer crashes put me a little bit off schedule. Which I suppose is a good thing because I was lost and had next-to-no plot... Now, don't get me wrong; I love a good PWP as much as the next guy. However, I wanted my dearest onee-chan to have some thing really exemplary, you know?

Anyway, here's a sneak peak Ane-ue! I'm still fiddling with the plot, but I think I know where I want to take this... You're looking a large, multi-chapter--SUPER BELATED--birthday present coming (HOPEFULLY) this December.

Now. Without further ado:

Tentative Soundtrack: [link]

Prologue

First and foremost, above ALL things, Namikaze Minato was a good shinobi. He graduated from the academy at the top of his class by age 10, and was already well-into a prolific career by the time most of his peers were ready to take the Chuunin exams (for the second time).

He understood the Ninja code; could repeat verbatim the Articles of Association signed by the ‘Five Great Nations,’ as well as multiple excerpts from ‘The First Treatise on War’ a well-kept secret, handed down to a select few ninja within the austere halls of ROOT—a furtive, if not, vital part of Konohagakure no Sato’s iron defenses.

He accepted the role shinobi were cast in the so-called, “Modern World,” and tempered his pride with understanding once faced with the knowledge that stark, reality couldn’t always be toppled merely by the force of one’s ideals—no matter how sterling they may seem. Ninjas were tools—conscious shadows, willing pawns—used to protect lives and procure brighter fates lost within a bleak world.

For all these things, and more, Namikaze Minato was considered a ‘damn good’ shinobi…

However, he couldn’t—no matter the cause or consequence—abide by the fruitless deaths of his friends and colleagues. For this reason alone, he was named, “Harbor.” He couldn’t just sit back and observe while his world frayed at its edges no more than he could twiddle his thumbs and wish it all away... Cloaked behind his cold wall of logic, he was a man of decisive motion. There’d be no leisure, no times of inaction; he could afford himself none of that. He had born of a hardier stock. Namely, the kind that blusters in the heart of tragedy; one that never falters, never quits—even under the torrential rains of fate’s cruel adversity. For this reason alone, he found himself staring into the mismatch eyes of a grief-stricken youth.

Namikaze Minato was a great shinobi…

Unfortunately, great shinobi make for poor comfort in times of grief.