#mianto

Then he turns - slowly, respectfully - toward Tsunade, eyes wide with sincere concern.

“Tsunade ane,” he says carefully, as if approaching a wild animal. “Are you… okay?”

Tsunade blinks at him. “I’m fine.”

A lie.

Her uterus has opinions. Her spine is filing a complaint. The air feels too sharp. Her patience feels too thin.

Minato takes one more step forward, still cautious. His gaze flicks over her posture with the clinical focus of someone who notices everything: the way her hand braces her hip, the slightly tighter set of her jaw, the shallow breath she’s forcing into normal.

And then his expression shifts.

It doesn’t become smug.

It becomes… solemn. Reverent. Like he has arrived at a grave truth.

“Oh,” he says softly.

Tsunade narrows her eyes. “What?”

Minato nods to himself once. It’s the nod of a boy who has concluded something terrible and is preparing to shoulder the responsibility with dignity.

“I understand,” he says.

“You understand what, Minato?”

He looks up at her with grave sympathy.

“It’s… your joints,” he says gently. “And your lower back.”

Tsunade’s eye twitches. “My what.”

Minato steps closer, voice dropping the way it does when he’s being very serious.

“Ryūsui Obā sama used to make that sound when she stood up,” he explains. “She also said she was fine.”

Silence.

A crow, somewhere, makes a noise that sounds like laughter.

Tsunade stares at him.

“…Did you just compare me to Obā sama?”

Minato flinches, but he stands his ground the way only a polite child can - brave because he truly thinks he’s being helpful.

“I didn’t mean it as an insult,” he says quickly. “It’s natural. People get older. Even very strong people. It’s actually impressive you’re still training this early.”

Tsunade makes a strangled sound. “Still–”

Minato is already moving, because once he’s decided he’s responsible for something, he becomes horrifyingly efficient.

He kneels by her gear bag without asking. He opens it like he’s defusing a bomb. He pulls out her water flask, checks it, then looks up.

“Do you want warm tea?” he asks. “It helps with aches.”

“I–”

“And we should avoid repetitive strain,” Minato continues, already pulling out a spare wrap. “You shouldn’t be punching logs if you’re… experiencing age-related fatigue.”

Tsunade’s mouth opens.

No sound comes out.

Minato rises, wraps the spare cloth around her shoulders like a shawl.

It is the gentlest indignity she has ever suffered.

“There,” he says, satisfied. “That’s better.”

Tsunade looks down at the shawl. Looks up at Minato. Her voice turns dangerous.

“Minato,” she says, “take this off me.”

Minato blinks, concerned. “Is it uncomfortable? I can adjust it.”

“I am not cold.”

“You’re shivering,” Minato says, very earnest.

“I am seething.”

Minato pauses. Processes. His eyebrows knit.

“…That can also happen,” he says, solemn. “Obā sama got angry when she was tired, too.”

Tsunade’s fist tightens.

She is genuinely debating whether it is morally acceptable to throw a child into a snowdrift.

Before she decides, Minato reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a small tag.

Oh no.

Tsunade watches him with dawning horror as he presses the tag onto her training log.

The fūin glows faintly, then sinks into the wood.

Minato nods like a medic.

“That should reduce impact,” he says. “It will soften the recoil on your joints.”

Tsunade turns very, very slowly toward him.

“What,” she says, with terrifying calm, “did you do to my log?”

“Joint-protection seal,” Minato says proudly. “It’s based on a cushioning matrix. Ryūsui Obā sama would have loved it.”

Tsunade inhales.

Exhales.

Inhales again, like she’s trying not to commit a felony.

“Minato,” she says through her teeth. “Why are you doing this.”

Minato looks confused. “Because you’re hurting.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re–” he hesitates, clearly trying to choose respectful words -  “at an age where–”

“Stop.”

He stops mid-sentence, obedient.

Tsunade steps closer until she’s looming.

Her shadow eats half his morning.

Minato looks up at her, blinking, like he’s waiting to be graded.

“Tsunade ane,” he says softly, “it’s okay. You don’t have to pretend. Everyone gets older.”

Tsunade’s eye twitches again. It’s doing that a lot today.

She stares at him for a long moment, and then something clicks in her head - not anger, not exactly.

Understanding.

She exhales, slow and sharp, and pinches the bridge of her nose like she’s being punished by the gods.

“…Oh,” she says.

Minato brightens immediately. “You agree?”

“No,” Tsunade says flatly. “I just realized you’re not being a brat. You’re being stupid.”

Minato’s smile falters. “I–”

“Tsunade ane,” she corrects herself, forcing a steadier tone, “is not old.”

Minato looks stricken. “I didn’t–”

“And I’m not injured,” she continues.

Minato frowns, genuinely thrown. “But you said your body hurts.”

“It does,” Tsunade snaps. Then - because apparently she’s choosing honesty over homicide today - she adds, quieter and more blunt, “because I’m on my period.”

Minato goes completely still.

The wind seems to pause with him.

“…Your,” he says carefully, “what.”

Tsunade watches his face - watching the word hit his brain and immediately bounce off like a kunai off stone.

She sighs.

Then, with the mercy of someone who has decided not to let this kid walk through life being dangerously uninformed, Tsunade says, very clearly:

“I bleed once a month.”

Minato’s pupils dilate.

Tsunade continues, because now she’s committed.

“It’s normal. It happens to women. The cramps can make your lower back ache and your body feel heavy and your mood terrible.”

Minato’s ears go red.

His face follows.

He makes a sound that is not quite a word.

Tsunade crosses her arms. “That’s why I’m ‘tired.’ Not because I’m secretly an old woman.”

Minato stares at a spot over her shoulder as if looking directly at her might summon lightning.

“I–” he begins, then stops. Swallows.

Tsunade watches him, expression shifting into something almost amused despite herself.

“Minato.”

He flinches.

“Look at me.”

Minato looks at the sky.

Tsunade makes a small sound. “Oh my god.”

Minato’s voice comes out strangled, like it’s being squeezed out of him by sheer panic.

“I didn’t know,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

Tsunade leans down until she’s close enough that he has no choice but to register her presence.

“It’s fine,” she says, with the casual cruelty of a cousin. “But if you ever compare me to Obā sama again, I’ll bury you in the snow.”

Minato nods so fast it’s practically a bow.

“Yes, Tsunade ane”

He turns on his heel and walks away at the speed of someone fleeing a burning building.

Not fast enough to be suspicious.

Just fast enough to be obvious.

Tsunade watches him go, then looks down at the shawl around her shoulders.

For a second, she considers throwing it after him.

Instead she snorts, tugs it tighter, and mutters, half amused, half furious:

“Ridiculous child.”

————————————————————————–

For the next week, Minato does not make eye contact with Tsunade.

He speaks to her from three feet to the left.

He hands her things while looking at the horizon.

He bows too deeply every time she says his name, like respect might erase memory.

On the seventh day, Tsunade catches him trying to slide a small tag onto her tea cup with the stealth of a criminal.

She lifts an eyebrow. “What’s that.”

Minato freezes.

“…It’s,” he says, voice very careful, “a warming seal.”

Tsunade’s mouth quirks.

“Aches and pains?” she asks sweetly.

Minato turns the color of a tomato.

Tsunade takes the cup anyway, sips, and watches him flee with all the dignity of a boy who has learned one horrifying truth about the world and will never recover.

She lets him go.

Then, into the empty field, she laughs - just once - because honestly?

Alternative Prompts

My my, just how much I've missed you Yes, I've been brokenhearted Blue since the day we parted Why, why did I ever let you go? 

Abba - Mamma Mia

To see something, you have to believe in it. Really believe it.

Matt Haig - A Boy called Christmas

It’s easy to believe in something when you win all the time ... The losses are what define a man’s faith.

Brandon Sanderson - The Well of Ascension

Rules

Mod is @elenyafinwe​

The event takes place from July 10 to July 16.

You can participate in any form you like. Write Fanfics, draw something awesome, post headcanons, make edits. Whatever you like. Your work doesn’t have to be in English, I trust you to follow the rules ^^

Only new works please. If you have a yet unpublished WIP, that’s fine tho!  

Post your work wherever you want, but if you want it to be featured here, please make a Tumblr post with the work and/or the link to your work, tag this blog and use the hashtag for the event #MinaKushiWeek2023.

You can, of course, use the hashtag on other social media, too, but keep in mind, that I’m only on twitter and will only check it there as well (and retweet it with my priv acc, you can tag me there as @/Aucraptor).

In the post put in all the necessary tags that apply to your work and add warnings accordingly. Please also add the prompt you choose.  

NSFW is allowed (just don’t post it fully on Tumblr), as well as any Dead Dove. Just tag it properly. Generally speaking: Any content is allowed that’s also allowed on ao3. It simply has to be tagged. However, any form of harrasment of other content creators over their content for the event is not allowed and will be banned from the event.

The main focus of your work has to be on MinaKushi. You can interpret their relationship however you like, any ship is allowed that fit in the general rules, you can also make it comepletely gen, if you prefer that.

You can do all prompts, some prompts or no prompts at all … or even more than one prompt per day, if you can manage that. If you don’t like the main prompt list, you can use the alternative prompts and/or mix both lists together. Whatever you like.

You can interpret the prompts as freely as you wish.

The main event takes place in the above mentioned week. But let’s be honest: If you find this blog after this and want to add something to the party feel free to do so! Late submissions will be accepted any time after the official end. However, I will not check the Hashtag forever, so better tag this blog.

No pressure, just have fun.