just something that didnt quite fit in my multi-chap minakushi.
The first time Minato goes on a mission with Kushina, they’re fourteen years old and he’s completely appalled. He’s seen people do a lot of strange things on over nighters, from all ranges of superstitious behavior and tics to disappearing into the woods for some alone time while they were supposed to be on watch. He’s never seen this though, and he stares.
“What are you looking at, Namikaze? It’s just hair, y’know!”
He apologizes profusely. “Sorry, it’s just… I’ve never seen… how do you even call that?”
She pauses, both hands hovering above her head with beautiful strands of crimson hair clutched impossibly between what looks like all her fingers at once. Minato is certain he’s offended her somehow – an easy task to accomplish, really. They didn’t call her the Red Hot-Blooded Habanero for nothing, and his mind reels trying to come up with as many good excuses and sorrys as could possibly be necessary. But instead her violet eyes soften then cut with excitement. He realizes faintly that he’s in trouble.
“It’s called plaiting,” she tells him, once more resuming her frantic finger knitting at her scalp. “It keeps my hair from strangling me in my sleep.”
What? If that was really a risk she ran daily, then he was mortified.
“You should definitely get a haircut if it’s that dangerous!” he tells her earnestly. No amount of beauty, however great, was worth flirting with death every night.
Kushina rolls her eyes. “You dolt, it just keeps it from tangling.”
“Oh,” he says, obviously relieved. “In that case, don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t cut your hair.”
Kushina pauses again, this time with her fingers loitering at the base of her neck where the braid she was working came down from her scalp and turned to flow over her shoulder. He wonders if she’s also thinking of the forgotten strands she plucked and he followed the year before, and if she remembers any of what he said back then about how beautiful she didn’t realize she was. Wordlessly she resumes her work, moving rapidly now from her neck to her breast to her hip before finishing the plait with an elastic tie from her wrist.
“You’re stupid,” she tells him flatly, flinging the long braid over her shoulder.
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“You don't know what's in there,” he told Kushina cautiously.
She was currently standing ankle deep in the tide preparing to leap into what Minato found to be very questionable waters. Had she seen the exposé on pollution that aired last month? Did she know what kind of horrors could be lurking in the water and how big their stingers were? Did she even care?
“Stop being a sissy,” she responded, throwing her tee shirt at him and hitting him squarely in the chest. “This is an opportunity to vacation. We're supposed to relax, and no one can relax with you ~worrying~ about medical waste hiding in the sand.”
He hadn't even considered, but that sounded awful.
“I just think that the pool is a better option.”
“Sissy.”
She hit him with her shorts then and before he could offer a counter argument and wax poetic about the many merits of the pool at their hotel – which was a saltwater pool, and really, it was just the same – Kushina ran straight into the ocean. Minato sighed. It was always like this. Kushina did what Kushina wanted, and that was just that. Reluctantly he made himself a safe patch of beach to sit on out of Kushina's clothes and their towels, then rummaged through their beach tote and began to liberally apply sunblock to his sensitive nose and ears while he waited for Kushina to finish deluging herself in the nasty jetty with its gross seaweed water and potential jellyfish and sting rays and a million other things that could probably kill you.
He didn't have to wait long. He hadn't even finished rubbing in his sunscreen when a large wave caught Kushina and pushed her under the surf. She popped up screaming and Minato was on his feet at once, knee deep in the water before he knew where he was or what he was doing.
“Kushina??”
“I'm fine!” she assured him, pushing her hair out of her face. “It's just cold, y'know!”
His shoulders slumped and his eye twitched.
“The pool at the hotel is heated!” he called.
Kushina scoffed. “You're a sissy!”
And apparently so was she, because they retreated to said heated pool that was totally seaweed and creature-free within the next half hour.
