Chapter Text
"Can you believe Minato-san had the whole picnic moved for her?"
"Actually, I can. Just goes to show how committed he is…"
"To the Nine-Tails?"
"No. To becoming Hokage. Remember Lord First was married to the previous jinchuuriki. That's probably what Minato-san is trying for…she's just a means to an end."
The idle gossip of the women beside her pulse acid through Kushina's veins. Locks of her crimson hair twist and flicker about her head. Their words shouldn't matter to her, not after having Minato nearly die trying to save her from the Nine-Tails's grasp more than once. But…well, people don't call her the Red-Hot Habanero for her easy-going nature.
How dare they…!
She's stormed halfway up to the stop where the pair of women are waiting on a rickshaw when a cool and steady hand reaches for her shoulder, accompanied by the fond and familiar sound of her name:
"Kushina?"
Kushina whirls around to regard the man who's been on all their minds. Minato is dressed in his flak jacket and headband, like he's going on a mission. Her heart sinks at the thought. It's been tough as it is to get quality time with him since he got promoted to jounin. And with the whispered rumors of Lord Third passing his title on to him…
"Is everything okay? I know we've had the picnic moved inside the barrier for you, but you look upset."
Kushina peers over her shoulder. The gossipers are boarding the rickshaw, their faces washed of all their cares if only for today. Her hair settles back down along her back.
"Uh…it's nothin'. Just some silly gossip I overheard, 'ttebane."
Just what would they know, anyway?
Minato gives her a sympathetic smile. He moves to take her hand into his, but Kushina pauses to look him over. "Don't tell me you have to get off on another mission so soon," she grumbles.
"Oh! My clothes…sorry, Kushina. I got home from my last mission as soon as I could, but I'm still figuring out how to change as quickly as I teleport. Way I figured it, you'd be less pleased with me for being late than you'd be if I was improperly dressed," says Minato with a sheepish hand behind his neck. His other hand stays behind his back.
His ease etches the smile back onto her face. He knows her so well. That's quite a lot of effort to pour into someone who is—
A means to an end.
"Heh. You're not wrong, 'ttebane. So, um, I was thinking we go picking sunflowers first, then a bushel of apples. After that, we have our—oh! Oh my gosh, what happened to the basket, 'ttebane!?"
Could've sworn I had it in my hands a second ago—!
Minato coyly clears his throat. "You mean, this one?" He reveals the packed picnic basket, safe and sound in his grasp.
Kushina sighs with relief, her shoulders slackening. "Thanks, Minato! I musta dropped it when I—uh, never mind." She jabs one finger toward the crystal blue vault of the sky while her other hand takes his. "To the sunflowers!"