The temporary command post was so stifling it was hard to breathe.
The four Hokage, lost in confused thought, said nothing. The metal shack was frighteningly silent.
Minato Namikaze broke the silence.
He did not look at Sasuke, nor did he continue arguing over lofty principles. He simply stared at Naruto, at his son's combat uniform, covered in dust and torn in several places.
"Naruto," Minato said softly, "take a walk with me."
Naruto was looking down at the casualty list, every name upon it like a red-hot brand. After more than ten seconds of silence, he handed the document to Shikamaru and gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment.
They lifted the door flap and stepped into the night.
They walked one behind the other along the edge of the Arsenal's ruins. Twisted rebar and shattered concrete lay beneath their feet, while the reactor dome in the distance still gave off bluish smoke. Neither spoke. Only the soft crunch of boots on gravel remained.
At last, they stopped at the small square at the end of the civilian housing district.
The Memorial Stone loomed in the night like a silent beast. The sickly white emergency lights shone over its surface, making the newly carved names painfully glaring. Naruto walked up to it and habitually pulled out a cigarette pack. He pinched one between his fingers, glanced at Minato's face covered in cracks, then put it away again.
He merely stood there, staring at the bouquet of wildflowers left beneath the monument by a little girl—it had already withered.
At that moment, the usual sharpness had vanished from his eyes, as had the ruthlessness he showed before enemies. All that remained was a stagnant, bottomless weariness.
Minato stepped up beside Naruto, his gaze falling on the densely packed names carved into