Chapter 2: The Decision

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or any of its characters.

Warning: child abuse and bullying (mostly mentions of it), some dark themes, too much fluffiness sometimes. A real rollercoaster (or, at least, it's supposed to be).

Author's note:

Hey, guys! Back again. I admit it, your reviews made me happy and I was anxious to give you the next chapter. I hope Kumi sounds good enough for you and it always nice to receive positive critique about character development (which is hard enough with him being a boy, a ninja and a child. Wow.)

Anyway, enjoy the chapter.

All Things Are Difficult Before They Are Easy

By Amaryllis D. Namikaze

Chapter II:

The Decision

"He was lonely and had begun to think that loneliness was a part of his character, something that would always stay with him."

Sheerwood Anderson

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else if more important than fear."

Ambrose Redmoon

I was five when a lonesome shinobi knocked on my home's door.

It was already dark outside and since we lived in a pretty central area of Konoha, it was possible to hear soft murmurs from people going to late-closing restaurants and shopkeepers ending their day.

"Minato, go check who's knocking, yes?" Mom was stirring something inside the pan while brother and I played chess on the dinner table.

He nodded, jumping off the chair. With a terrible feeling creeping up my spine, I discreetly observed from the kitchen's doorframe. Like I said, a lonesome shinobi had been the one calling us that night. I couldn't hear what he said to my brother, but he made Minato stumble in surprise.

My small hands gripped the hem of my black shirt. I wished the man would look up, let me see what his eyes told – I didn't need to listen to his words, just to his eyes – but he never did. The tired-looking ninja bowed, perhaps more than it would be socially necessary, and departed.

Minato closed the door and, though I could tell he was on the brink of tears, his eyes dulled as soon as he saw me watching him from the kitchen.

"Onii-chan?" I asked, lightly creasing my forehead. There was something in his baby-blue eyes that made me swallow whatever words I meant to say next, because his usually cheerful blue orbs were no longer light, but dark.

"Kumi."

I had never been called that way by him before.

"Dad is dead," he said. My heart stopped beating for a moment, too busy choking up on my throat. "But we'll be okay. I promise."

In a way, it was almost the same – the surprise, the shock, the unexpectedness of it all. When my first Mother died, I remember standing on my living room, in London, and just staring at my Father. He had said it like that too – Mummy is dead – and I remember breaking down in tears. I'm not sure if the tears were mine or my sister's.

My eyes were strangely dry, though. My heart thundered under my ribcage, yes, but except for that, I couldn't feel anything. Everything was quiet.

"Boys, what's taking so long..," Mom stopped, observing the scene in front of her. Minato was standing a few meters from the door, watching me with an unreadable expression and I was simply looking back at him. "What happened? Who knocked?"

Minato turned to her and, for a brief moment, I wondered if he was pleased with the shortness he could deliver this kind of news. His face betrayed nothing.

"Dad is dead. But we'll be okay. I promise."

That's when I threw myself at him. There was no way that he was okay.

I watched the rain fall with inattentive eyes. I could hear Mom and Minato arguing in the background, but their – now – common topic of fight no longer bothered me.

When I arrived in this new world, I don't know what I hoped for. The notion of family had always been a bit skewed to me as well as the idea of having loyal friends. My first Mother died when I was a little older than I am now in this dimension and my Father was the one responsible for most of the scars that had covered my old body.

I didn't have very high expectations during life.

But of course that had changed after I arrived here.

There was a touch of brightness in Konoha that couldn't be turned off. It didn't come from the street lamps or the house lights. Not even sun provided this special clarity. It was like a constant fire – not unmoving, just fluid. It adapted to every situation.

I wondered where it had gone.

"Please," I whispered.

Father had been bad and Sister had been quiet. They had always been like this, as if there was no other way for them to act. Dinah, or Jenna, or whatever her name had been, had never stood up for me. I used to be the older one, but also the imperfect one. I could endure being ignored. I could endure a beating from my Father.

I could endure anything. Anything but my most precious people fighting.

"Please," I cried.

They both stopped. The funeral had happened a couple of days ago and this was the most silent they were since then.

"Mii-chan?" Minato called, hesitant.

I turned around to look at their worried expressions. Mom's kaleidoscope eyes were trying oh-so-hard to remain strong and Minato's chin was jutting out with more determination than it was fair.

"Can we not fight?" The ground was very interesting when you suddenly had no courage to say the words you wished to speak. "Daddy…"

"Oh, baby," Mom started. I felt her arms embracing my small frame and felt as her hands raised me up. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel sad."

With a startled gasp, I realized that this – love love love – was what I needed. The first and the second time. Not gut-wrecking beatings or scarring bullying or even cold dismissal. I craved for tenderness and softness and just the right amount of care.

"Mii-chan?" Minato stood up on tiptoes to look me in the eyes while I was being held in our mother's arms. "I'll protect you, 'kay?"

I closed my eyes and nodded. That's what I wanted.

Minato was eight when he entered the Academy for Young Shinobi and Kunoichi. Mom and he had been fighting about his decision to become a ninja ever since Dad died on a mission, but he was adamant on getting stronger.

I hadn't thought about what I wanted to do with my life here. It was simple to just laze around as toddler and hope for the best, but the Naruto world wouldn't let me forget how dangerous it was for very much longer.

If I sat around doing nothing, History would remain the same. Minato would die almost two decades from now and I'd be left with… who? Namikaze Torii was never mentioned in the original plotline, which made me wonder what happened with Mom during those years.

It all came down to my own selfish desires. I had enjoyed the Naruto verse while I read it, of course, but was Naruto – the still-to-be-born person – my first concern? Truthfully speaking, the years spent here had dulled whatever sense of attachment that I felt toward any – previously fictional – character.

I mean, I didn't exactly shiver in excitement every time I saw a familiar face. Inoichi, for example, was an awesome person in the story plotline, but did he make somersault inside every time I saw his almost girly face? No. So, I supposed I was entitled to feel whatever I wanted to feel with no guilty whatsoever.

I'd been reborn in the Naruto world as Namikaze Minato's younger brother. My first concern was keeping my brother alive in the long run, simply because he was my most precious person here and I loved him from the very bottom of my heart.

Yes, it took me awhile to admit this. Period.

I was aware of my faults very clearly, if only because nobody in my past life let me forget them. I was selfish, always taking care of myself first and foremost. I didn't trust very easily – which could have been a good thing, except it made me a bit anti-social. And most important of all: I became bitter over facts and things in a heartbeat. That is perfectly shown in how I treated my older brother when I first arrived here; hell, it took me months before I even started accepting the fact that Minato was here to stay.

So, yes, I was a very awkward child.

I was brought out of my musings when a voice spoke a few meters from me.

"Do you mind if we sit here?" It sounded young, which made me look up, startled.

I was in a secluded part of the park, away from the children's playground if only to keep myself isolated. My days were lonely without Minato around and Mom had started working more shifts in the clothing store she antecedently part-timed at. This independence wasn't new as much as it was nostalgic. I thought I could handle it well, considering how many years I spent figuratively alone before coming here.

The cruel thing about life in general is that, after having the toy given, it's much harder to take it back.

The only thing that prevented me from jumping up and down like the young child I was supposed to be was the person's – or people's – appearance. The one who had spoken was slightly taller, thinner too. His eyes were a very deep green color with no pupils, which complemented his short dirty-blond locks rather well. He looked scarily familiar, though I couldn't tell why. And the second one was almost a carbon copy of Shikamaru, with the most noticeable difference being small freckles over his nose.

"Go ahead," I managed to blurt out after a few seconds of awkward staring. It was the first time that someone so clearly connected to the canon characters spoke to me – not counting the times I hid behind Minato when he spoke to Inoichi – which surprised me a bit.

They sat – the blond, carefully; the Shikamaru-clone, lazily.

I couldn't help it, I smiled a little. It obviously made my annoyingly feminine face less unwelcoming, because the blond spoke as soon as my lips turned up, "My name is Yamanaka Ren and this lazy bum here is Nara Chitarō."

Chitarō? Ren? I wondered if they existed in the original world of Naruto, but since it seemed arrogant of me to think the contrary, I simply switched to pondering what happened to them in the future.

"I'm Namikaze Kumi," I introduced myself.

I was already six in this world, but had never made a friend outside of my family and didn't bother talking all that much with strangers. It may sound lonely, but before Minato started studying and Mom, working, it had never bothered me before. The solitude was very, very familiar to me.

To my surprise, Ren blinked in bewilderment.

"You're Minato's baby brother?" Seeing my hesitance, he smiled reassuringly. It was funny, in a way, seeing a seven or eight-year-old comforting a teenager. A decidedly broken-to-pieces one, but a teenager nevertheless. "Hey, it's ok. My older brother, Inoichi, is a good friend of your brother. And, heck, I know Minato well enough too."

I relaxed. A second later, observing Ren's friendly expression, I couldn't fathom why I had tensed at all.

"Huh, I thought you were a girl," Chitarō added his two cents.

My immediate reaction was to glare at him, though being called girly had never irritated me before. I mean, I myself thought that my features came together to form a feminine face. Being outright called a girl, however, was a new experience.

"Chita!" Ren scolded after Chitarō stared at me for a few seconds, completely unaffected by my glare. I wish my eyes would narrow menacingly like Minato's, but they never did.

"Ok, ok," the Nara sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, and will you please accept my apology?"

It was recited in such a rehearsed fashion that I couldn't help but giggle. From the tone of Ren's voice and the perfectly spoken words spilled from Chitarō's mouth, I had no doubts about the frequency of this kind of situations taking place.

"How did you two became friends?" I asked, genuinely curious. I had never understood this friendship thingy – and, goodness, spending such a long time in a child's body was affecting my mind – since I had never had friends before. Well, I had books and for me it was almost the same, but most people would think it weird.

Chitarō yawned in trued Nara fashion before replying, "Well, Aniki is friends with Inoichi."

I tilted my head sideways, a habit brought from my old life.

"Aniki?"

"Un," he nodded. "Nara Shikaku."

Well, that explained why he looked so much like Shikamaru. He was the guy's uncle – or would be uncle. Whatever. Everyone in the Nara clan looked alike; it was impressive, in a way.

"I heard that Minato skipped two grades in the Academy already," Ren started after a few seconds of boring silence. He sounded pretty excited about the fact. "I didn't have the chance to ask him himself and my brother likes to mess with me; is it true?"

I nodded my head. Minato had been thrilled last week when he announced during dinner that his teacher deemed him advanced enough to skip classes. Apparently, instead of spending four years in the Academy, he would study for only two. I wasn't exactly surprised – my brother had always been brilliant – but Mom had been especially silent that night.

"Wow," Ren made.

Chitarō rolled his eyes, "Why are you so impressed? There are geniuses every generation."

Ren pouted and I was reminded of their – and mine – age for a moment. It was easy to forget how young you actually are when you spend so much time alone with the mentality of a sixteen-year-old boy.

Crossing his arms, he looked away for a moment, "It's just… It's so cool to know a prodigy, don't you think?"

"Yeah, if they aren't stuck-up pricks like the majority of them appear to be," was the Nara's response. And after watching the entire Naruto series, it sounded fair enough.

I still rose to my brother's defense like a good little duck, though, "Hey!"

They looked at me, surprised by my shout. I was too. Minato called an 'old soul', because I rarely raised my voice and could have infinite patience when he started chatting about anything at all. Had it not been my obvious shyness in front of new people, I'd be a pretty mature person.

"Does Minato teach you anything? Nii-san is so unfair," Ren returned to his babbling. This little – even though he was at least ten centimeters taller – guy could talk all day, no doubt. "Tou-san taught me how to mold chakra and how to throw shurikens, but he said that anything more can wait a few more months."

Ren sounded upset about it and it was somewhat funny, so I couldn't hide a smile once again. He grinned, seeing my lips twitching.

"Onii-chan taught me how to throw shurikens, but Dad," my pause was so brief that I wondered if they noticed. Chitarō probably had, judging by his expression, but he said nothing. "Was the one to teach me how to write and read, as well as mold chakra."

Well, actually, I taught the last one myself. I couldn't explain it to them, however, how I spent my babyhood. Chakra was quite easy to control – most likely because I had never had it before, which made me aware of this flowing energy all the time.

"Nice!" Ren grinned wider. It was infectious, I found out.

Chitarō rolled his eyes at our enthusiasm. Yawning for what could be the fourth time in ten minutes, he stretched over the grass like a cat under the sun.

"Chita here is a prodigy too, but he's too modest to show off," Ren explained, pointing his thumb at the guy beside him.

The Nara opened one eye, "I'm not a prodigy," he drawled the word, almost mocking it. "My brother is ten times more intelligent than me. It just so happens that every kid in our class is dumb."

My eyebrows arched up. It sounded mean to say that about a bunch of kids, but I had heard much worse directed toward me. I couldn't fault his argument, though, especially the part about Shikaku. If the series was anything to go by, the man was a sheer genius at strategies.

One thing caught my attention.

"In your class? I thought the Academy only accepted people older than eight?" I would guess they were around seven, but who knew? I looked younger than my already-too-young six years of life.

I was caught off guard by Ren's smirk, "It does – we're just too good."

"If by too good you mean already capable of basic History and writing, yeah, we're too good," Chitarō intoned.

Ren pouted once more, "Gosh, Chita, let me impress our new friend, will you?"

New friend.

I admit, it made me light-headed to hear the word friend. I thought that loneliness was something you simply got used to. Drowning in books had been my way of forgetting the real world and even though I loved all types of stories, friendship-focused ones had never held my attention for too long. It left a horrible taste in my mouth afterwards and I simply started avoiding them. I thought to myself more often than not I don't need friends, because I somehow convinced my brain of it.

Naruto had never been my favorite character in the series. I couldn't identify myself with him. He was someone who desperately wanted to acknowledged and wanted friends more than anything. Me? I was sure that being alone was better than not.

I was astonished to discover that the word friend could evoke such a positive reaction out of me.

"Kumi?" Ren called me and I realized that I had daydreamt for a moment here.

"Uh, sorry," I apologized. Way to go, Kumi, that's how you make friends. Not.

"Nah, it's okay. Chita frequently sleeps in the middle of our talks," he shrugged, not really bothered. "I was saying you could try to enter the Academy, you know? You said that you can write and read, right? As long as you prove it to the teachers, I'm sure they won't mind a person younger than usual."

It terrified how excited I was with the idea. It would bring me closer to my sole objective in this life – protecting Minato – as well as enable me to get to know Ren and Chitarō better.

"Sure, I'll ask Onii-chan tonight," I answered with a little smile of my own.

"Absolutely not," were the words I heard as soon as I uttered my question.

I looked down, troubled. I had never disagreed with Minato in something so important.

"Why not?" I tried to keep my tone steady like my brother always manage, but a whine escaped its way through my lips. It was disheartening, sometimes, to see how Minato could be more mature than a sixteen-year-old teenager.

"First, because Mom would go insane with worry. Second, because it's too dangerous," he explained, stirring the stew inside the pot. Since Mom would arrive later today, we decided to eat dinner without her. I could cook better than my brother, but he insisted in handling the fire parts like always.

"Why would she go insane with worry?" I was curious. Mom had let Minato go to the Academy and Dad had been a shinobi. She worried a lot, yes, about my older brother's future, but never outright prohibited him for pursuing his goals.

"Because you're her baby," he deadpanned.

I blushed, looking away. Minato sighed, bending his knees so his blue eyes met my kaleidoscope ones.

"You're my baby brother and I really, really don't want to see you hurt. I'd go crazy with fury and probably do something stupid. So, for both our sakes, don't become a shinobi."

It sounded unfair. I had had many unfair situations thrown at me in my last life. Mother had died, Father had gone practically insane in his despair, Sister had withdrawn herself from my life altogether and Bullies were more than glad to grind into dust whatever had remained of my own shards of depression. I'd spent days cooped up inside an old library buildings with spiders and books as my constant company.

I was tired of unfairness.

I thought about Ren's excited grin and Chitarō's lazy contentment this afternoon. I thought about the long hours we spent in each other's company. And, finally, I thought about Minato's future.

"I don't care," I whispered. I gulped down my fear of rejection and raised my head, staring right into my brother's surprised eyes. "I want to protect you too."

There were many more things I wanted to say.

I made friends today, you know?

I want to be able to smile this time around.

I discovered that loneliness is a bitter, ugly child.

I love you.

Please.

But I kept quiet. I didn't want to start bawling, because I'd never be taken seriously this way. I wanted to stay with Minato many and many more years to come, so I forced the tears away and observed his thoughtful blue eyes.

Suddenly, he smiled. It wasn't his usual wide grin, but a much more serene one.

"I won't promise you anything," was his reply. But I can try to make your wish come true, his smile told me.

Thank you.

Courage tasted surprisingly good.