Yondaime Patch Notes
A/N: Just a series of things Minato suffered as Yondaime (every Hokage does, really). Set in Icarus because the verse where no one dies is my happy place.
Day 1: The Hat is Laughing
Minato’s first unofficial-kinda-official day as Yondaime starts with him losing a taijutsu match to the cloak.
“The hem is not regulation length” he tells no one in particular, trying to shake it free from under his heel without face-planting.
On the veranda behind him, Kushina crunches senbei and watches like it’s theatre.
“Hold still” she says, grabbing the back of his cloak before he walks directly into a support pillar. “You’re twitchier than a genin about to cheat on the written exam.”
“I’m not twitchy” he says, immediately tripping over the stairs. “I’m… aware of the stakes.”
“The stakes” Kushina says, dead serious, “are that if you fall on your face in front of the whole village, I will never recover socially.”
------🐸------
The hat is worse.
It sits on the Hokage’s desk like a cursed object. White. Crisp. The kanji for “fire” staring up at him like, sure you wanna do this, blondie?
Minato stares back.
It stares harder.
He picks it up like it might explode and settles it on his head.
Absolute darkness. His peripheral vision dies instantly. The brim slides, smacks the bridge of his nose, and keeps going until he’s effectively wearing it as a lampshade.
“…I can’t see” he says, voice echoing inside the hat void.
Sarutobi exhales smoke in the corner, the picture of a retired man who has successfully passed on a generational curse.
“You get used to it” he lies.
Kakashi is at the door in full ANBU gear, doing the world’s loudest silent judging.
“Don’t” Minato says, not looking at him.
“I didn’t say anything, Hokage sama” Kakashi replies, in the exact tone of I will be thinking about this forever and Rin and Obito are going to know about it.
Kushina, who insisted on coming along for “moral support” and to laugh, tilts her head.
“You look like a festival lantern 'ttebane” she says. “A… very important lantern.”
He takes the hat back off before he says something un-Hokage-like to his wife in front of his teacher and his traumatized child soldier.
------🐸------
The paperwork wasn’t there when they walked in.
Minato is sure of that.
Now, however, there is a stack on the desk that could blot out the sun. Mission reports. Budget approvals. ANBU rotation requests. Something labeled “URGENT – TAX” that radiates malice.
He blinks.
“Did that just--”
“I wouldn’t do that to you” Sarutobi says.
There’s a beat.
“…all at once” he adds.
A Nara appears at Minato’s elbow like he’s been summoned by dread. Shikaku, hair tied back, expression set to “permanently tired” holds out a brush.
“Congratulations, Hokage sama” he says. “Here’s your pen. And your doom.”
Kushina pats Minato’s shoulder. “I’ll bring lunch” she whispers. “If they let you have food in Bureaucracy Hell.”
------🐸------
The first form is a requisition request for “three (3) experimental explosive tags for controlled educational purposes.”
Shikaku hasn’t even seen it yet. “Deny” he says.
Minato squints at the name. “…Obito put sparkles around his signature.”
“Deny faster” Shikaku says.
The next report is from Gai. The mission outcome is one paragraph. The rest is fourteen pages of “FLAMES OF YOUTH” in increasingly aggressive handwriting.
Minato pinches the bridge of his nose and pretends the hat is blocking this from reality.
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sarutobi on the sofa, pipe in hand, looking deeply, obscenely relaxed.
“So” Minato says at last, “when do I… you know. Hokage.”
“You’re doing it” Shikaku says.
“I mean outside the office.”
“Oh.” Shikaku flips to the next page. “When you get to tell people ‘no’ to their faces. Don’t worry. They’re already lining up.”
------🐸------
They are, in fact, lined up.
The Fire Daimyō’s emissary bows low, then talks for ten straight minutes about fabric, ceremony, and a banner color that “photographs well in ink paintings.” Minato smiles politely and mentally calculates how many shunshin it would take to escape through the window.
By the time the man leaves, Minato’s “diplomatic face” muscles hurt.
The next visitor doesn’t bother knocking.
Jiraiya kicks the door open, pauses theatrically in the doorway like he expected to catch Minato mid-fall, and looks mildly disappointed.
“Aww” he says. “You didn’t trip in the hat. What’s the point of having students if they don’t provide slapstick?”
“I’m banning you from all official ceremonies” Minato says.
“You can’t ban me, squirt” Jiraiya replies, swaggering in. “I’m historical color.”
He drops a scroll onto the desk.
“What’s this?” Minato asks.
“Intelligence and field notes” Jiraiya says. “Definitely not the first draft of a very tasteful novel about a devastatingly handsome blond Hokage torn between duty and--OW.”
Kushina appears from nowhere, whacks him on the head, and steals a corner of the scroll to read.
She snorts. “You spelled his name wrong.”
Jiraiya looks personally attacked. Minato shoves the scroll aside before the conversation becomes literary.
“How’s the throne of fire?” Kushina asks, bending to kiss his temple.
“Statistically” Minato says, glancing at the paperwork, “on fire.”
She flips through the URGENT stack, whistling when she hits one in particular.
“Ouch. Refugee policy. On your first day? That’s rude.”
The humor in the room drops a notch. Minato looks down at the tidy list of border villages, the notes about rations, the word tension underlined three times.
“Yeah,” he says. “First day.”
She squeezes his shoulder so hard it’s almost a comfort punch.
“You’ll fix it” she says. “Then you’ll come home and we’ll laugh about how you almost gave Obito access to experimental explosives.”
“I was not going to approve that,” Minato says.
Kakashi’s mask tilts two degrees into 'that’s a lie.'
------🐸------
By late afternoon, Minato has:
Signed twenty-seven mission files,
Denied three separate Uchiha requests that should have gone to the police,
Approved an ANBU rotation that made Kakashi frown less (apparently the win condition),
Argued with the budget about academy meal programs (“children need food” vs “money is fake”),
And written three letters to other village leaders that Shikaku graded as “not embarrassing” (high praise).
At some point he makes the mistake of stepping out onto the balcony in the hat.
The village looks… different from up here. Smaller and bigger at once. People moving through streets he knows by heart, now under his stupid, heavy hat and objectively excessive cloak.
He grips the railing so he doesn’t adjust the hat and yeet it into the valley.
Below, kids race across rooftops. Laundry flaps. Vendors shout. Somewhere, Kushina is probably yelling at someone twice her size.
“Hey.”
Jiraiya lands beside him, sandals scuffing stone. For once, he doesn’t lead with a joke.
“First day” he says.
“Feels like it started a week ago” Minato answers.
“How’s it fit?” Jiraiya asks, nodding at the hat.
“Badly,” Minato says. “And perfectly.”
Jiraiya’s grin flashes, quick and proud. “Good. Means it’s yours.”
He claps Minato’s shoulder and steers him back toward the office.
“Come on. If you leave the paperwork alone, it divides.”
“That’s not how paper works” Minato says.
“Wait ‘til you see the tax forms,” Jiraiya replies darkly.
------🐸------
When Minato finally staggers home, the cloak is half off and he’s got ink on his face in the exact shape of his own signature.
Kushina meets him at the door, hair up, apron on, smelling like miso and victory.
“Well, if it isn’t Hokage sama” she says, bowing just enough to be rude. “How was your romantic day with bureaucracy?”
“I understand Shikaku on a spiritual level now” Minato says. “I’ve seen the void, and it’s a ledger.”
She laughs, takes the cloak, and - very respectfully - hangs the hat on the peg like it’s not responsible for half his problems.
“You’ll get used to it” she says.
He looks at the hat. Thinks of the village. Thinks of Obito’s form. Thinks of the word refugees circled three times in red.
“I will” he says. “Probably.”
The next morning, the paperwork stack is somehow taller.
Minato looks at it, then at the hat.
He is ninety percent sure the hat is laughing.