In the world contained in the depths of the Shinigami’s stomach, a lonely white-cloaked figure stirred inside the ruined tower he used as a hiding place.

He could feel a new presence in this terrible realm, and it wasn’t one of its terrible denizens.

Who had just arrived in this wasteland dominated by the dead and lost souls?

:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:

Conrad slowly opened his eyes.

The first thing his mind registered was that he was not in pain.

The second was that he was not feeling cold.

That was a relief, actually.

The dark purple, constantly storming sky was not.

His nostrils were assaulted by how wrong the air felt, on an almost metaphysical level.

And by a foul stench.

“Qahnaarin, you’ve awakened,” a deep voice resounded behind him.

Durnehviir.

Turning his head, he saw the putrefied dragon sitting on the grey dirt, in the arena where he had fought him so many years ago.

He was in the Soul Cairn.

Why was he in the Soul Cairn?

“Wait… why am I here? Am I dead?” the Nord asked, rising slowly on his feet. He didn’t try to hide the apprehension from his voice.

If it turned out that he had to pass the whole afterlife in such a terrible place, it would be a major case of rotten luck.

And something he would expect, given his lifetime’s experience with it.

“No, Dovah. You are alive and dead at the same time.”

“Well, that’s new… how?” Conrad asked.

“Your body, back in the Mundus, is not dead. Should it survive or remain untouched, you will be able to return to it.”

“My… body? You mean that I’m not here physically?” he asked, gesturing to their surroundings. “And now that I think about it, how did you manage to take me here? And why?” the last thing he remembered was transforming into his dragon aspect and rampaging around, obliterating every last Thalmor while commanding the daedra and undead to kill every survivors.

“Our deal. When you summoned me for the first time, our contract was sealed. I can sense you every time you enter this plane. But for unknown purpose, or reason, you are here. Unconscious on your soul. Inside this world.”

“You are telling me that you don’t even know why I am here?”

“No, Dovah. I only carried you away from where I found you and put you here for your safety.”

“That’s… disturbing but still thank you for guarding me while I am not concious,” he was not pleased by this revelation at all. The first thing that comes into his mind was being summoned or called by a certain mad god or daedric prince. But he was on Soul Cairn. Not on any plane ruled by known Daedric princes. This was something else…

“You’re welcome.”

Did the rotting flying lizard just snort at him?

It was difficult to tell between the deep voice and decaying flesh. He immediately went back into wondering every scenario of logic on why he was here on Soul Cairn. He got dozens of ideas on his mind and as they increase further, it was becoming evident that the daedric princes were somewhat uninvolved on his current state of affair. Because the only entities that lord over the Soul Cairn were–

“You weren’t going to ask why I brought you here?” the dragon asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Hm? Weren’t it because for my safety?”

“That’s half of the reason.” The dragon replied with an obvious snort. Conrad felt that the dragon was hiding something like it’s excited to show him. He decided to put up with this. Maybe this could help answer the questions on his mind.

“Fine, why then?”

“The main reason was because I was asked to.”

Now, that was not Conrad was expecting.

“You were asked?!” he asked, incredulous. “By who?”

“By him,” the dragon said with a sneer, indicating with a single talon somewhere behind the Dovahkiin.

Conrad turned.

:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:

When Namikaze Minato sealed the Kyuubi into his newborn son so many years ago, sacrificing his own soul to the Shinigami, he was expecting to experience either an existence of unimaginable pain, his very soul slowly consumed by the death god’s stomach, or a complete, utter void with nothing for eternity.

Instead, it turned out that the bottom of the Shinigami’s stomach was the resting place of this weird dimension, filled with strange ruins, lost souls, terrible creatures that preyed on them, reigned by those malignant beings that referred to themselves as the “Ideal Masters”.

Masters who were apparently unaware of their being somehow similar to parasites, living in a god’s belly.

Minato was still wondering if being consumed or existing in a complete void wouldn’t have been a better option.

When he had gained awareness of his surroundings after his death, he was bewildered.

Not only was this strange world dark, dangerous, and terrible, it was also incredibly foreign. Alien, even.

Even in his dead and incorporeal state, he had to learn how to survive against the monsters that dwelled in the barren wastes.

Apparently, there were not a lot of souls that spoke his own tongue. He had actually met one once, but that shinobi had been in this place for so long that his sanity was in tatters.

Inwardly, Minato was utterly afraid of becoming like him with the passing of the decades.

But he would not surrender to his fate, waiting for that slow descent into madness, year after year, until there was just a husk with barely a mind inside.

He was, or had been during his life, the Yondaime Hokage of Konohagakure. He didn’t like to boast his title, but if the creatures of this place and their masters wanted to destroy either his soul or his sanity, they would have to fight him for it.

The first years had been pure hell: there was no other way to describe it.

Followed, stalked, chased, or even hunted down. He lived months of continuous conflict.

But he was dead. Not having to deal with mortal necessities like sleep, thirst, or hunger had their own advantages.

Then one day, the creatures stopped coming.

They still attacked him if he came too close to them, but they stopped hunting him like they had before. Apparently, destroying legions of them had made them realize that it was a waste of time and resources.

Even if the Ideal Masters seemed to have a neverending supply of them.

Having more time to do something else beside fight, run, and hide, he was able to interact with the other less-aggressive denizens of his new world.

Slowly, he had learned the language spoken from the majority of the souls that filled this strange realm. Learning a language from scratch was not easy, but he had time, after all.

It had been a long and tedious task, mostly because a lot of the souls in this place were cursing their fate or generally being miserable about it.

As his mastery of the language improved, he learned more and more bits of pieces of cultures and histories of what seemed to be another world entirely.

Who would have guessed that a whole different continent existed on the other side of the great ocean? Filled with lands, nations, people, traditions…

There were even different species. Races that weren’t even human, with their own civilizations.

And nobody in Konoha… nobody in the Fire Country… no, scratch that. Nobody in the whole Elemental Nations knew about any of it.

He was eager to learn all he could, and speaking for a few days—or weeks—with the rare souls willingly to, helped him remain in good mental shape.

After all, he needed to think about something besides his family’s fate.

Kushina… what had been her soul’s fate? He prayed that she had gone to a better place. Surely, there had to be one.

And Naruto, his son…Was he growing up well? Had he been taken care for? Was he fine? Was he safe?

Not knowing that, above all things...that hurt more than any torment he had suffered since he arrived in this forsaken place.

Being completely unable to change that, he had opted all the time his train of thoughts for a simple solution. Think about something else, because it hurt too much.

And for the longest time he had not strayed from that pattern.

It had continued that way, year after year, for the longest time, until a fortuitous encounter.

Since then, Minato had been given a ray of hope in this damned place.

He had formed a plan, and put it in motion. It had took a long time but now the older—who was not really older—man was standing in front of him.

It was a strange experience, like looking at a mirror that twisted the image reflected on it.

The older-looking blond had shorter hair, and broader shoulders, but that could have been an impression given from the armour he was wearing. A short beard covered his face and three long scars were etched into his right cheek.

And the eyes, even if they had the same shade of azure, were a little colder. And right now were completely widened.

But the resemblance was uncanny.

The only problem now, was how to tell him—

“Who the fuck are you?” the man snarled, his expression morphing to a scowl.

Well. That was a good way to start, no matter how blunt.

He scratched his head, thinking how to reply. Should he…? Well, there were not a lot of ways to answer to that question.

“I…” Minato said, pointing to his chest with his hand, “...am your brother.”

The man in front of him—his brother, he had to remind himself—just stared at him, blinking for a few seconds.

“Say what?” was the question he received, a little more than a whisper.

The great undead dragon was looking at the whole scene, apparently amused.

“I said, I am your brother.”

But the only response he got was something bad.

“Fuck… you.” Conrad spoke the two words with emphasis.

Minato sighed. He had been afraid of a similar reaction. After all, they both hadn’t been aware of each other’s existence, and Minato had just learned of Conrad’s only after his death.

In his brother’s eyes, he was probably just a random ghost that somehow resembled his appearance, claiming to have some blood ties with him.

And he was right, Conrad met many people who tried to deceive him many times, either just to assasinate him or use him, few of them failed and became a part of the earth. But few were successful, much to his frustration. They would always appear to be having similar traits as him.

The most successful was an agent of Thalmor who pretended to be his long lost mother which he actually took the bait and would later suffer the consequence.

“I understand that it’s difficult to believe, but—”

“FUCK! OFF!” his twin snarled, interrupting him again. This just reminded him of how he was deceive in the past and it made him flare in anger. “If you think you can just tell me something like that and—”

“Vazah, Dovahkiin,” the dragon Durnehviir said, with his deep voice. “It’s true.”

That stopped the outburst, and the man turned towards the great dragon, slowly, an accusing finger still pointed towards Minato.

“What? Durnehviir, don’t tell me that you believe this—”

“I was the one who told your Zeymah, your brother’s soul, that you’re of the same Sos, the same blood.”

There was a moment of complete silence, disturbed only by the winds of the desolate place. Then, slowly, Minato’s brother turned to face the dragon that was unable to die, his eyes slitted.

“How can you be sure of this?” he hissed.

“I met your Zeymah when I came back in this Dur Lein, cursed world, after the last time you summoned me.”

“The last time, you said?” Minato’s brother asked, looking pensive. “But that was...five years ago.”

“Geh, yes. That was when you and your Aar besieged a city of your enemy’s. It was a good fight. Worthy to be part of.”

“The Blades are not my servants, dragon,” the man said, bitterly. “I’m not their master, and I never wanted to be.”

Minato was a little confused by his brother’s statement. From what he had learned in these years, he was supposed to be some kind of champion, a leader of men. And even some mer, too. That was how he had been told about, at least. So why was he denying that?

“They follow you in battle, Dovahkiin. They follow your orders and that makes you their In.”

“Whatever. I don’t want to talk about my position in the resistance with you. I already have Delphine pressing me about it,” the not-yet-dead man said, sighing. “Just keep going with your tale, Durnehviir.”

“As I returned to the Ideal Masters’ dominion, I saw him. He soon proved to be a Bahlan Kendov. A worthy warrior. We fought quite often.”

“It was just a random encounter,” Minato said sheepishly, thinking that he should add his own account to the dragon’s tale. “I was just travelling on the plains, and Durnehviir appeared from nowhere, and attacked me immediately.”

“We fought and fought for months, because he was a good adversary. He met me blow for blow. A distraction from my cursed existence.”

“Yeah, well… I was not really happy about it, actually,” the Yondaime said.

Durnehviir ignored him.

“Grah Pruzah, we had. I usually won.”

Minato scratched his head, resisting the urge to reveal the real wins and defeats ratio. He had learned that the dragon had an ego bigger than his body, and often liked to boast his power.

He suspected that the same could be said for all the others of his kin.

“But as time went on… I started to have my suspicions,” the dragon continued. “Even if he was a just a Sillesejoor, the soul of a mortal, he was able to resist me. Even beat me, a few times.”

“You know, you’re still not telling me why—” the Dragonborn tried to say.

“He resembles you very much, Dovah—”

“A lot of Nords resemble me! We’ve all blond hair and beards, or so the stereotype says. Get to the main point!”

“-and his Sil, his soul… even if it is a human one… he smells like a Dovah.”

For the second time, silence filled the great arena before Minato’s brother interrupted it.

“Are you saying… that he was Dragonborn, too?!”

“No. His soul is a Joor’s, a mortal’s, of the Jul, a human soul…” Durnehviir spoke, slowly. “But he had been close to a Dovah when the souls entered both of your bodies. In his… and yours… Monah. When both of you were in your mother’s womb.”

“You think that he is my brother because… his soul… smells funny,” the other man deadpanned.

“Actually—” Minato was about to insert himself with an explanation but was immediately shut down.

“You, shut up. Dragons are talking here,” his brother said, waving his hand at Minato dismissively. The Yondaime was taken aback. This was not going how he had planned. “Are you sure that you’re not just bored and making stuff up to entertain your—”

“I AM SURE!” Durnehviir thundered, causing the ground to shake in the face of his fury. “I HAVE LIVED FOR MILLENNIA, DOVAHKIIN! I SPENT MY CURSED EXISTENCE HERE, SURROUNDED BY SOULS. I RECOGNIZED YOUR DOVAH ZIIL WHEN I LAID MY EYES ON YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME! IF I SAY, THAT THE SIL OF A JUR SMELLS LIKE A DOVAH FRON, THEN I AM SURE!”

Conrad frowned at the outburst of the dragon. If this is how Durnehviir would push it, then there must be some legitimacy to this case.

"Hmmm…” Conrad mused for a long while, digesting every words he had heard for several seconds before continuing. “You have a point. And the only way for his soul to 'smell' like a dragon's one would be..." the Dragonborn said slowly, turning towards Minato.

The blond Hokage tried to offer a reassuring smile.

"I can't deal with this!" his brother yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "I find out from and undead dragon that I've a brother… and he's dead! Oh, and there’s a possibility that I'm going to die too!"

Apparently, his smile had not been as reassuring as he had hoped.

“Look, I know it’s not exactly something you find out every day, but—”

“Wait a moment,” his brother interrupted him. Again. Seriously, it was becoming a habit and they had met just ten minutes ago. And to be honest, even Minato who was known to be forgiving and patient than his wife were starting to get irritated. “If you’re here… that means…”

“That my soul is trapped here?” Minato asked rhetorically, shrugging. “Yes.”

“Who did this to you?” the older-looking blond asked, growling.

That was another question that Minato was expecting. And once again, there was no other way to explain it without being blunt.

“I did,” he stated.

Minato had expected the silence, the visible shock, and the open wide mouth. He hadn’t expected the punch sailing towards his face. Which he easily dodged anyway.

“You idiotic, imbecile, moronic, stupid FOOL!” his twin snarled, without stopping to try to hit him.

“FUS RO!”

Minato felt the violent push, and used it to put some distance between himself and his enraged brother, landing gracefully.

So this was the power of the Thu’um of which Durnehviir had mentioned. Impressive, powerful and even faster than a jutsu.

His brother had started to slowly advance towards him, cracking his knuckles.

“Please, niisa—Please, brother! Calm yourself! I had good reason to—”

“WULD NAH KEST!” and the enraged Dragonborn was right in front of him, snarling, a fist raised.

Minato barely dodged it. Whatever that shout was, it was more or less on the speed level of a shunshin jutsu.

“Reason?! What reason could you possibly have? POWER?!” the fuming blond hissed, still pressing his attack. “Did you hope that making a deal with the Ideal Masters would increase your magical might?!”

Alright, that was enough. Minato with all of his patience, had finally snapped at those words.

He used a jutsu that enabled him to instantly teleport on the blindspot of his brother. Something that he had planted in secret earlier while Conrad was still unconscious, just to make sure. And he was right.

This made Conrad surprise with wide open eyes as his attack fell to empty air. Then he felt a crushing pain.

Minato punched his still-living brother in the gut, knocking the breath out of him. The Yondaime didn’t know how that was possible, since the man was not physically present inside the Shinigami’s stomach, but he didn’t care. He looked down at his brother and finally explained.

“I did what I did because I had no choice. There was no option left. Because if there is, I would’ve taken it instead but there’s none.” he said coldly, with just enough remorse in his voice.

His brother just growled quietly as he gasped for air.

“No choice? No other option but to condemn yourself to this?!”

There was a flicker around the man’s hands, and a spray of lightning was aimed towards Minato.

But the Yondaime was not in front of the Dragonborn anymore. Tendrils of electricity zapped at the ground, throwing up sand wherever they hit.

“Calm down,” Minato said, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. He had used again the Hiraishin no Jutsu to get behind his brother as Conrad started to prepare his own jutsu—no, not jutsu. Spell. Minato had to remember the difference. Spells were much faster to use, not requiring the more complex handsigns that jutsu did.

There was also the difference between chakra and magicka, but this wasn’t the time to delve into that.

“It’s true, I condemned myself to pass all my afterlife in this place,” Minato said in a gentle but firm tone, hoping to finally pacify his long-lost sibling. “But in doing so… I saved thousands of lives, who otherwise would surely be lost.”

For a moment, his twin’s stance became even tense. Minato wondered if it was because of his explanation or a reaction to his speed.

“That…” the man said, turning his head towards him, “…is a good reason… But what on Nirn had happened that forced you to make such choice? A siege? Did they take your people as hostages?”

“Not exactly… you see—”

“Oblaan? It’s over already?” the dragon asked, with a bored tone. “I was starting to enjoy seeing the Dovahkiin get beaten by his younger brother.”

“Beaten my ass,” the man said, turning to face Minato with a frown. “So… you really are... my brother?”

“Yes, I am,” Minato said, happy that the hostility was now gone.

The dragonborn only sighed and facepalmed, then looked at Minato for several minutes, as if deciding if he should try to punch him again or not.

“I’m… Conrad, by the way,” his brother said, offering his hand.

“Yeah, I know that,” Minato replied, shaking his sibling’s hand. “Durnehviir and some other souls told me that. I am Namikaze Minato.”

As soon as Minato took his hands, Conrad pulled him.

"TIID KLO!"

With that shout, the world obeyed.

Then for the first time since he became the Yellow Flash, Minato was struck on the gut and face by his own brother. If he was alive, he would've been coughing up blood already with broken teeth. It was a punch that even Minato with his quick mind and body, never caught to see. He was forced to crouch down as if to get some air.

So this is the true power of Thu'um.

"Now we're even." Conrad smugly said after crunching his two fist together.

"Haaa... Is... Is he always...like this..?" Minato asked the undead dragon that was looking at them in restrained mirth.

"Take it is a natural exchange of culture between you mortals. Dov have similar ways also." Durnehviir said.

"Ack...haa...haaa... To be honest, I'm getting interested in that power of dragons called Thu'um. No matter how many years I've spent in here trying to learn that, I always fail." Minato expressed his fascination.

"Unfortunately for you, even if you are the brother of the Dovahkiin. I see no possibility of you ever learning it," the dragon said.

"Well, I have an eternity here to try." Minato stood and breathe in relief when the pain is finally fading.

"Numehkuzi? Is that your given name?" Conrad asked.

"No it's, Na-mika-ze and Mi-na-to." Minato replied with the correct pronunciation of his name.

“Na-mika-ze? Mi-na-to. Hmmp, sounds like some lousy name.” Conrad said, slowly, trying the unfamiliar sounds. “Well, Nameh, Namikaze, why have you asked our rotting friend to take me here at the first chance he could?”

“I am here, Dovah,” the dragon said, not liking being ignored.

“Err, Namikaze is not my name, it’s the surname.” Minato said sheepishly.

“What? Why did you introduce yourself like that, then?” his brother asked, confused.

Right. There were various cultural differences between them… how to explain this… Minato scratched his head.

“You see, in the place where I grew up, it’s customary to introduce yourself using the surname first.”

“That’s… some strange culture,” Conrad said, blinking. “Where did you grow up? Who gave you that name? I’ve never heard of such a thing, and I’ve travelled a lot.”

“A land far away from Skyrim. Actually, far away from Tamsi- I mean, Tamriel.”

“What?” Conrad asked, flatly. He seemed torn between incredulity and confusion.

“I’m not sure how, exactly, but I was found in a shipwreck that washed up on the shores of the Elemental Nations.”

“Never heard of them,” his brother said. The confusion had won and was clearly visible on his face.

“They’re very far, far across the ocean. Don’t ask me which ocean because I haven’t figured that out yet. As for my name, well… it was given to me at the orphanage, I presume.”

“Orphanage?” Conrad asked, his face falling.

“Well, yes. I passed my childhood in one and… wait,” Minato trailed off, realizing that something was wrong from his brother’s eyes. “You too…?”

“No, no… I lived with Father until I was… seventeen or something. But he never talked about our mother, he refused to,” Conrad said, with a mournful tone.

“H-Hes still alive? How is our father?” Minato asked, with a pang of jealousy. True, he could feel that Conrad had hoped to know about their mother, but at least he had known one of their parents.

“I don’t know,” Conrad whispered.

“What?”

“I don’t know really… When I came back to Skyrim, two years after I left, Helgen...that was the village where we lived...was burned down,” Conrad replied, hastily. “I’ve met only three other survivors from that day. I have no idea if Father is still alive. He is still missing. But it was already a decade ago, so probably…”

“That… I’m sorry,” he said, sincerely. “But how was he? Was he… a good father?”

“Yes,” his brother replied, after almost a full minute of silence. “Yes he was. Is. Whatever. He’s just… not an easy man to live with.”

Minato wanted to ask more questions, so much more, but the pain in his brother’s eyes made him hold his tongue.

“What kind of spell did you use to get behind me that fast?” Conrad asked, probably to change the subject. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Oh, that was not a spell. It was just a jutsu—”

“A what?” his brother asked, confused once again.

“Please Conrad, stop interrupting me and let me finish first," Minato had to put a stop to his bad habit as it's making them waste a lot of time.

"It’s a… look, it’s complicated to explain, but you basically you pump your chakra into—right, you don’t know what chakra is… it’s like magicka… only it’s not. You don’t die when you run out of magicka right? And you can’t restore chakra with a potion,” Minato rambled “But now that I think about it, shinobi never tried to create potions. Only poisons. And antidotes for the poisons. We got only those soldier pills, and they’re dangerous—”

“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Are you always that vulgar?”

“You should see me when I drink.”

“You should avoid doing that, you know. It’s not good for you,” Minato scolded.

“Great. I get a dead brother, and not even half an hour later I’m already receiving a lecture about—” Conrad rolled his eyes in annoyance and started, before trailing off, looking at his hands, freezing with widened eyes.

They were fading.

“Durnehviir!” the Nord called. “What’s going on?!”

“You’re waking,” the dragon said, apparently not really interested. “Your Kopraan, your body is not dead. Your Zii is going back to it.”

“What?!” Minato shouted, panicking. “Already?”

Conrad was now fading quickly, he was little more than a floating torso, but that didn’t seem to cause him physical pain. The brothers met each other’s eyes, knowing that they would probably never see each other again.

There were so many things Minato would have wanted tell his brother, so many things that he wished to learn, but he knew there was no more time.

He flashed through a quick combination of handsigns, required for the jutsu he had prepared especially for the occasion, as he had always prepared for the worst case scenario, and slammed his right hand on Conrad’s face.

There was a burst of energy, and Conrad screamed as the tendrils of chakra burned thousands of pictures inside his mind.

“Ahhhh!!!! What the FUCK?! What did you—”

“There is no time!” Minato interrupted him. “It will help you find the place I’m from. You must go there! Tell them about the masked man that attacked the village twelve years ago! Help them Conrad! Please help Konoha! Help—”

Before he could finish his request, there was a blinding light, and what was left of Conrad’s spiritual form soared to the sky, like fireworks in a summer festival.

“—my son…” Minato whispered, fully knowing that his brother had not heard it.

Silence descended once again on the arena, now occupied only by a dragon unable to die and the lost soul of the Yondaime Hokage.

“Damn it!” Minato’s voice thundered in frustration, at such volumes that even the spirits far from the place could have heard its echoes.

“You should have asked your request at the very beginning, Joor,” Durnehviir remarked after a few of minutes of silence where the Yondaime had just sat in the grey sand.

All those years… for probably nothing. There was no guarantee with his brother would follow his request, after all. He had not given him enough details, or reasons to.

And the dragon was right. Such an opportunity, wasted, and all because he had to get so sentimental instead of—

“No Paak, don’t feel shame. Every Joor would have done the same. The Dovahkiin will grant your Waan, I know this.”

“How can you be so sure?” he asked, staring into the dragon’s general direction. Although he was Conrad's brother, there was no telling whether his brother will honor his request or not. They just met. And if he has a family to care about or something that will hold him from leaving his home, it would never be granted then.

After seeing Conrad's personality, the possibility of having his request ever happening had now become too low.

“The Dovah had always been… curious. Vomindok, the unknown, had always fascinated him. It still does. It is because of his curiosity that his Laas has been so… interesting.” the dragon answered.

"What do yo-"

"The Dovah may be able to deceive his fellow mortals, but he would never be able to deceive us. The Dovah was known to us for a very long time that he will never show that he cared. He would act with the worst impudent behavior you will ever see. But he will still do what most honorable mortals would do. Of course, if we told the Dovah that, he would only stubbornly deny it. And that's what makes him different from our eldest, Alduin." Durnehviir continued.

"Alduin...he was your brother right? If what other souls here had told me is correct," Minato asked.

"He is."

"Why… why did you betray him? I heard that during the War on Skyrim, all of the dragons turned their backs on Alduin. And sided with Conrad. Why?"

This question brought both a painful and nostalgic feeling for the undead dragon.

"He...Alduin betrayed us first. When he forgot his duty, became what's left of what we had respected and worshipped."

Minato could sense that it was a topic that the dragon don't really want to take about so he waited.

"Do you know why we chose your brother?"

Minato just waited for the answer.

"Alduin was our eldest, promised to lead us and yet he became a tyrant. While our youngest, the Dovahkiin, was our promised death and yet... he became our king."

Minato opened his eyes wide at that revelation. And he felt proud on hearing that. His brother was being acknowledged highly by a creature that's probably the strongest race on Nirn. In his years on Soul Cairn, Minato learned that dragons were also proud beings, very very proud. So hearing one saying such a thing was a great feeling especially if it was about someone related to you.

"But the Dovah is still young, have a lot to learn. And it's our duty to guide him that he will not become the next Alduin." Durnehviir looked at the distance as if he was looking at Conrad from far away.

"I didn't expect you dragons to care that much for my brother."

"It's only natural for older brothers to care for their younger brother, am I correct?"

So that's the "real half" of the reason why he saved the unconcious Conrad earlier. He smiled at the thought.

"I never had one until now so I don't really know, to be honest." Minato shrugged.

"Then I will tell you, because he will do the same thing to you."

Minato said nothing then laughed at its words. He was being consoled by a dragon which he found funny and ironic as it was an undead being who was known to have no sympathy on the living. He can also feel that the dragon was also smiling, despite its rotting appearance.

And as the dragon slowly got up, inwardly he was finally relieved. For the first time after his death, he had hope for his son and for his village.

“Now, our pact is over. I granted your request, and now I demand my payment.”

“That would be… what? Six months of battle, without stopping?” he said tiredly.

“Eight,” Durnehviir corrected. “Come now, Yondaime Hokage. Show me what you can do when your fury is unleashed!”

Minato smiled. If the dragon wanted a real fight, he would give him a real fight.

He needed to vent his frustration at some point.

Right now, all that he can do was hope.

Something that's natural on all Shinobi.