Chapter 14

Ryuu sat huddled in the small, unfamiliar apartment, the silence broken only by the distant sounds of a village grappling with catastrophe. 

Even from this relatively untouched sector, the echoes of the previous night's terror were palpable – the occasional frantic shout, the rumble of heavy carts moving debris, the hushed, worried tones of neighbors speaking outside. 

He had remained awake most of the night, his senses straining, trying to decipher the muffled chaos, his mind replaying the horrifying possibilities associated with the Kyuubi attack he knew was unfolding. 

He felt small, insignificant, utterly powerless.

The first grey light of dawn was beginning to filter through the window when the faint shimmer of chakra outside the door alerted him. It wasn't hostile, it felt familiar, controlled, yet utterly exhausted. The seals Kasumi had placed disengaged silently, and the door slid open.

Kasumi stood there, framed by the weak morning light. She looked like a ghost herself, paler than usual, her dark clothes smudged with dirt and something that looked disturbingly like dried blood. 

Deep lines of exhaustion were carved around her eyes and mouth, yet beneath the weariness, there was a core of steely resolve. She swayed slightly on her feet before catching herself.

"Kaa-san!" Ryuu scrambled up, relief flooding him so intensely it made his legs weak. He rushed towards her, stopping just short of throwing himself at her, remembering her need for control, her likely injuries.

Kasumi managed a faint, weary smile, reaching out to ruffle his white hair, her hand trembling slightly. "It's alright, Ryuu," she murmured, her voice hoarse. "It's over. We're safe."

She stepped inside, carefully re-securing the door seals behind her. She didn't offer details, didn't speak of the Kyuubi, the masked man, or the battle he knew she must have witnessed or participated in. 

She simply moved towards the small washing basin, splashing cold water on her face, trying to erase the grime and the shadows of the night.

Ryuu watched her, his mind buzzing with questions he knew better than to ask directly. Did she fight? Was she hurt? Did Minato survive? Kushina? Naruto? 

The fate of the world he knew hinged on the answers. But Kasumi's posture, the way she deliberately avoided his gaze while washing, screamed exhaustion and a deep, bone-chilling reluctance to revisit the night's horrors. She was shutting down, compartmentalizing, just as he often did.

"Was... was it bad, Kaa-san?" he asked tentatively, keeping his voice small.

Kasumi paused, her back to him. "There was... an incident," she said carefully, drying her face on a rough towel. "A powerful entity threatened the village. Lord Fourth... handled it. There were losses." Her voice was flat, emotionless, delivering the bare minimum.

Losses. 

Ryuu felt a pang, not of personal grief – he hadn't known them – but of confirmation. Canon events, even altered, still carried their bloody price.

"Are you okay?" he pressed gently, noticing the slight stiffness in her movements, the way she favored her left side.

She finally turned, forcing another weary smile. "Just tired, Ryuu. Very tired." She sank onto her futon, pulling her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "We are safe now. Lord Fourth protected the village."

He knew better than to push further. Kasumi had erected her walls, thick and high. 

Prying would only make her retreat further. He settled onto his own futon nearby, feigning childish weariness himself, but his mind raced. Minato handled it. She didn't say Minato died. She didn't mention Kushina at all. Hope, fragile and tentative, flickered within him.

Could they truly have survived?

The next few days were subdued, tense. 

The village outside was a hive of activity – cleanup crews clearing rubble from the heavily damaged eastern sectors, medical teams tending to the injured, patrols moving with heightened vigilance. 

Funerals were held, somber processions winding through the streets, the collective grief a heavy pall over Konoha. Ryuu watched from the window, absorbing the atmosphere. He saw shinobi he recognized from his knowledge – a younger Kakashi, looking lost and haunted, a grim-faced Hiruzen Sarutobi organizing relief efforts, members of various clans pitching in.

Kasumi rarely left the apartment, claiming exhaustion. She spent hours meditating, her chakra signature fluctuating subtly as she likely worked to restore her depleted reserves and perhaps process the night's events. 

She spoke little, her responses to Ryuu's tentative questions brief and evasive. He didn't learn anything more about the Kyuubi, the masked man, or the Hokage's family.

Their observer status shifted subtly. 

The ANBU presence outside felt less like surveillance, more like protective detail now. A different Chunin aide delivered rations and supplies daily, curtly informing Kasumi that the Hokage wished for her to rest and recover fully before any further debriefings. 

It seemed Kasumi's actions on the perimeter, her likely role in delaying Obito or protecting the safe house, had earned her a measure of trust, or at least placed her firmly under Minato's protective umbrella.

This period of quiet uncertainty was nerve-wracking for Ryuu. He needed confirmation, needed to know how drastically the timeline had truly shifted. He focused on his own training, using the relative security for intense chakra control practice. The leaf stuck firmly now. 

He could even make it spin, albeit unevenly. He practiced the ice senbon formation in the privacy of their small washroom, managing to create tiny, fleeting needles of ice that melted instantly. It was slow, painstaking work, requiring absolute focus to draw out the cold energy without letting it surge uncontrollably.

About a week after the attack, Kasumi was summoned to the Hokage Tower again. This time, she returned looking less haunted, more... thoughtful. There was still weariness, but the raw edge of terror had softened slightly.

"Hokage-sama has formalized our status," she told Ryuu that evening, sitting across from him at the low table. 

"We have been granted official residency. Temporary identification papers will be issued tomorrow." She produced two simple, laminated cards from her pouch. One bore her name, Kasumi Yuki, and a hastily taken, stern-looking photograph. The other was for him: Ryuu Yuki. His photo showed a pale, serious-looking child with startlingly red eyes. Official. Recognized.

"He also..." Kasumi hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "He has offered me a conditional position. Utilizing my... particular skills for village security matters. Discreetly. In return for continued protection and resources."

Ryuu nodded slowly. Minato was leveraging her skills, binding her loyalty. It made sense. "Will you accept?"

"We have little choice, Ryuu," Kasumi said quietly. "Konoha offers sanctuary, but sanctuary always has a price. This is safer than remaining unaffiliated." She looked at him pointedly. "It means we stay here. We build a life here. Quietly. Carefully."

"Does it mean... I can learn more?" Ryuu asked, trying to sound like an eager child interested in shinobi arts, masking his true intent – access to Konoha's knowledge, its training facilities, its library. "Like... at the Academy?"

Kasumi considered this, her gaze assessing. She knew he was intelligent, unnaturally focused for his age. Keeping him cooped up indefinitely wasn't practical, and formalized training within Konoha's system might paradoxically be the best way to both control and monitor his developing abilities, while also integrating him (and by extension, her) more fully into the village structure.

"Perhaps," she conceded slowly. "You will be able to enroll next year. The Academy teaches the basics of a shinobi, but most importantly, history, strategies and basics of chakra. It could be... beneficial. But you must never reveal the full nature of your abilities there. You are Ryuu Yuki, a refugee granted asylum. You Ice Release," she lowered her voice, "is a secret known only to the Hokage and those he trusts implicitly. To everyone else, you possess good chakra control, nothing more. Understand?"

"Yes, Kaa-san," Ryuu affirmed solemnly. The path to the Academy, to formal training, was opening.

Life began to settle into a new routine. With official papers, they could move more freely within the village, though Kasumi remained cautious, always ensuring Ryuu was adequately covered against the sun. 

They visited markets, carefully observing the flow of commerce, the interactions between villagers and shinobi. Ryuu saw Uchiha police officers maintaining order, their presence seemingly accepted, though perhaps with a subtle undercurrent of tension Ryuu couldn't quite decipher yet. Had Minato's different approach already mitigated the worst of the post-Kyuubi backlash against the clan? Or was the resentment simply simmering deeper?

Kasumi took on occasional low-level assignments, likely assigned by Minato's office – perimeter checks, monitoring specific entry points, tasks that utilized her sensory skills and kept her away from direct clan politics or high-profile operations. It provided a small income and reinforced their position as contributing residents.

Ryuu used these opportunities to explore, always under Kasumi's watchful eye or strict instructions to stay within designated safe zones like parks or training grounds visible from their apartment. 

He watched Academy students practice, his analytical mind dissecting their movements, their techniques, their mistakes. He saw children his age playing, laughing, forming bonds he knew he couldn't easily replicate. He saw a lot of different people. 

Shinobi of clans, genin moving with their squads completing missions. Rarely some Chunin and even more rarely Jonin.

Though since it was the period after the attack, it would make sense why there were so many shinobi running around.

He visited the Konoha Library, accompanying Kasumi who was ostensibly researching local herbology. While she browsed medicinal texts, Ryuu, looking like any curious child, devoured basic scrolls on chakra theory, Konoha's history (the official, sanitized version), and rudimentary elemental principles. 

Thankfully his mother had taught him to read, which was a boon. Though he still needed some time to read through the text, still unused to the language.

The information confirmed much of what he knew but often lacked the depth or nuance he craved. Access to higher-level scrolls would require status, clearance, something he was years away from achieving.

One afternoon, while walking near the Memorial Stone – the large black monument engraved with the names of Konoha's fallen – Ryuu saw a familiar figure standing before it, lost in thought. 

Kakashi Hatake. 

He looked younger than Ryuu remembered from the future, maybe only fourteen or fifteen, but the characteristic silver hair, the mask covering his lower face, and the haunted look in his visible eye were unmistakable. He seemed burdened, carrying a weight far beyond his years. 

Was he mourning Obito and Rin? But why did his gaze seem more resolved than anything…

Ryuu quickly averted his gaze, pulling Kasumi subtly in a different direction. Engaging with major canon figures directly was too risky, especially one as perceptive as Kakashi. But the encounter was another confirmation – the key players were here, their lives altered but their paths still intertwined with the village's fate.

As the months passed, turning into a year, Konoha healed. The physical scars of the Kyuubi attack faded, replaced by new buildings and reinforced walls. But the psychological scars remained. 

There was an underlying tension, a heightened awareness of danger, a greater emphasis on security. Minato ruled effectively, his presence a constant reassurance, but the shadow of the attack still remained. Many people lost their families, their loved ones.

Many children had to survive without a parent.

Many parents had to mourn the death of their children.

It was a vicious cycle.

Ryuu adapted. He learned Konoha's rhythms, its customs, its unspoken rules. He practiced his chakra control relentlessly, the leaf now sticking effortlessly, the tiny ice senbon forming with slightly more consistency, though still melting almost instantly.

He began rudimentary physical conditioning, pushing his small body, building strength and stamina within the limits Kasumi allowed. He spoke more fluently, his childish voice losing some of its earlier hesitation, though he maintained a reserved, observant demeanor.

He was Ryuu Yuki of Konoha now, at least on paper.