Minato with a Gacha

MC's POV

Our footsteps echoed through the corridor as we made our way toward the main square. My heart thudded in my chest with a mix of nerves and disbelief. Just minutes ago, Kushina had given me a brief on what this speech needed to accomplish, but her words kept looping in my head. This wasn't just a speech; it was a show of strength. Their Hokage was here. Konoha was strong.

It was hard to focus with Kushina right beside me. Every now and then, she'd glance over, her expression somewhere between serious and searching, as if she was looking for something—or someone—in me.

"Remember," she said, her voice low and steady, "this isn't about saying the right thing. They don't need perfect words; they need reassurance." She hesitated, her gaze lingering on me a moment longer than usual. "You… he always kept it simple."

There it was again—Minato. I could feel her slipping, unconsciously speaking to me as if I were her husband. The reminder of who I was supposed to be sank like a stone in my gut.

But she didn't seem to notice her slip. She kept walking, her eyes fixed on the path ahead.

"Konoha's been through hell," she continued, her voice softening, almost as if she was remembering something painful. "We've lost a lot of good people. When you speak, it's not just to reassure them; it's to remind them why they're still here. That this village will rebuild."

I nodded, feeling the weight of her words, the pain she was trying to hide. "Right. Just… make sure they believe we're still strong."

She turned to me, something unreadable in her expression. For a brief second, her gaze softened in a way that made me catch my breath. "They'll believe in Konoha because you do. You always—"

She stopped mid-sentence, catching herself. Her face hardened slightly, and she quickly looked away, but the moment hung in the air between us.

I cleared my throat, a bit shaken. "Kushina, I… I don't know if I can speak the way Minato would've. I don't know these people like he did."

She stopped walking, her hand reaching up as if to rest on my shoulder, but she hesitated, her fingers hovering just inches away. Her eyes searched mine, her gaze flickering with something between doubt and hope.

"Minato didn't always have the perfect thing to say either," she murmured, almost as if she were speaking to herself. "But he… you just need to speak from the heart. Konoha doesn't want a speech; they want someone to stand with them. If you do that, they'll listen."

I looked at her, my nerves momentarily forgotten. There was a quiet strength in her that felt like it was pulling me in. And for just a second, I almost wanted to be Minato for her—to be the person she needed, if only to make her pain a little less.

"Kushina," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, "thank you… for trusting me with this."

She blinked, as if coming out of a daze, and her hand dropped to her side. A flicker of something crossed her face—a shadow of sadness, maybe regret—but it was gone almost as quickly as it had come.

"Don't make me regret it," she said softly, her voice tight but steady. I could see her lips quirk up, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.

I chuckled nervously, feeling a bit of my tension ease. "I'll… try my best."

She gave a slow nod, and for just a second, I saw that softness again in her expression, like she was seeing someone else standing where I was. My throat tightened, and before I could say anything more, she turned her gaze forward, signaling that it was time.

Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and stepped out onto the platform. Rows of villagers stood before me, a sea of faces filled with grief, hope, and anticipation. This wasn't a game, and it wasn't pretend. I could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on me, and in that moment, I understood exactly what Kushina had been trying to tell me.

I had to believe in Konoha if they were going to. And as I met her gaze one last time before addressing the crowd, I felt a strange determination settle inside me.

For her. For everyone watching.

This is what Minato would've done.

The crowd was silent, thousands of eyes fixed on me as I stepped onto the platform. I felt the weight of their gaze, the heaviness of all those expectations. For a moment, I stood there, staring back at them, feeling my heart hammer in my chest. I didn't know these people, and they didn't know me—yet here I was, standing in front of them, pretending to be their Hokage.

To them, I was Minato Namikaze. The man who'd saved their lives. The man who'd fought to protect this village even as it crumbled around him. The man who, by all rights, deserved to be here now.

But he wasn't here. I was. And I had promised Kushina I'd protect Konoha in his place.

I took a deep breath and looked out over the crowd, searching for the words. They weren't coming easily, so I did what Kushina had told me—I spoke from the heart.

"My friends, my comrades… my family," I began, letting my voice carry out over the square. "Last night, our village faced one of the darkest moments in its history. We were attacked, not by an enemy we could prepare for, but by a force of nature—an unstoppable storm that threatened to destroy everything we hold dear."

I paused, letting the reality sink in for them. Even from here, I could see their grief, their pain. Some of them had lost loved ones, others had lost their homes. All of them were bearing the scars of last night's battle.

"But Konoha is still standing," I continued, my voice stronger. "Not because we were spared, or because fate took pity on us. We are standing here today because of the strength of each one of you. Your courage, your resilience, your loyalty to this village—that is why Konoha endures."

A murmur rippled through the crowd, and I could feel the mood shifting slightly. I took a steadying breath, my own fear starting to ease as I kept going.

"Last night, we lost friends, family, mentors, and heroes. We have wounds that won't heal easily, and we have questions that may never be answered. But as long as we have each other—as long as we keep fighting for one another—then Konoha will never fall."

I caught a glimpse of Kushina standing at the edge of the crowd, her gaze unwavering. Her expression was hard to read, but her eyes were filled with a fierce determination that reminded me of why I was here.

"For as long as I am Hokage," I said, drawing strength from her silent support, "I swear to you that I will protect this village with everything I have. Konoha will rise from these ashes stronger than ever. We will rebuild our homes, honor our fallen, and continue to fight for a future where we are never again forced to suffer like this."

The crowd was silent, but I could feel their attention, their faith slowly building. They were listening, waiting, hoping for a promise they could hold onto.

"Each one of you is a part of Konoha's strength. Each one of you is the reason we have survived, and each one of you will help rebuild what we have lost. This village was not built by one man, one family, or even one generation. It was built by all of us, together, and it will live on because of all of us."

I took a step forward, my voice growing louder, filling with a resolve I hadn't known I had.

"Today, we mourn. But tomorrow, we rebuild. And the day after that, we rise. Because no matter what happens, Konoha is more than a place. It is a spirit, a will of fire, and as long as even a flicker is left, we will never truly fall."

I let my words hang in the air, watching as the weight of them settled over the crowd. Faces that had been tense and drawn softened slightly, eyes filled with a glimmer of hope. For the first time, I could feel the strength of Konoha, the unity that bound this village together, and I knew that it was something real, something powerful.

As I finished, a murmur of voices started to spread through the crowd, growing louder, stronger, until it became a roar. They were clapping, cheering—small sounds at first, but soon the whole square was alive with voices of encouragement, pride, and defiance.

I could see it now—the resilience Kushina had spoken of, the loyalty, the will of fire of Konoha itself. And as I looked out at the sea of faces, I realized something: this wasn't just Minato's village. For as long as I was here, this was my village, too.

I turned to leave the platform, my heart pounding, a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration flooding through me. I had done it—I had given them hope.

As I stepped down, I caught Kushina's eye. She was smiling, just barely, her eyes bright with something that looked like pride. And in that moment, I felt like, just maybe, I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

For now, at least, Konoha's Hokage was still here.