Third person pov

Jiraiya's eyes were puffy and red-rimmed from crying, but he was notably sober. Minato found this to be highly suspicious and unexpected. He'd been dead six years but he doubted Jiraiya had abandoned his love for a good drink in that time, especially not at a time like this. If this was a desperate attempt to try and 'be better' or something, he was about six years too late.

Minato's office felt stuffy, the air a little too humid and a little too strained. Minato's face ached from how tight it was, like it wasn't used to grimacing this hard. He resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the surface of his desk as he inspected the sannin, swallowing the scathing retorts he wanted to scream at him. This was someone he'd seen as a father. This was someone who had left Naruto here alone to suffer. This was someone who hadn't checked in on him even

once

.