Just my thoughts on good old Minato facing an eternity with the fox. I would surely go crazy. Alas, this was born
It all came to him in pieces, shattered bits of reality that, brought together, formed a skewed yet somehow cohesive whole:
The howl of the nine tails as it dies into the night.
A flash of red, there and gone again.
Angry eyes, bright and glaring, looming closer and closer.
There was the crunch of bones breaking.
So much agony, pain that shuddered through his body, echoing back and forth until it was all that he could feel-could ever feel. Never-ending. Formless because it was everywhere, and when he tried to move… he finally understood the meaning of true torture.
Such agony that he was beyond tears, lost in a cocoon of consciousness where everything faded away before throbbing back into crystal-sharp clarity.
The grey, empty sky, a wide expanse that stretched across the globe, arms reaching wide between the points of skyscrapers.
It was then that Minato finally truly realized that he was going to die. He had known as soon as he made the seals, but this was when it hit him.
There was no future for him anymore.
The reemergence of awareness came slowly.
It was sight that came to Minato first, though he at first thought that he was blind. There was darkness, ever-reaching, all-consuming. It smothered his senses, pushing down low and hard, covering his eyes until Minato was once more reminded of why it was that he had feared the night as a child.
There was a danger in the primeval soup of nothingness, a blanket void where things that go bump in the night hid from all concepts of what-can-only-be, defying logic and striking out when a person was weakest.
Minato was afraid.
Touch came next, the sensations slipping back into consciousness as the Hokage reached up and pressed trembling fingertips against his cheek. The skin there was wet with tears, and it was taste that trickled back into existence when the tang of salt landed upon the tip of his tongue.
He knew, realized with an instinct passed down through his genes over thousands of years, that he was in the Void, the nothingness where awareness stagnated and eventually faded away, the spiritual dead zone where Minato's memory would stutter and stall, his existence blown out as thoroughly as a candle in the wind.
Hearing was the last to return.
"No!" he shouted, voice deadened and muffled in the noctivigant gloom. "No! I refuse this! I don't want to stay here! I won't stay here! His voice bellow across the immeasurable distance, echoing back to him-words twisting and mutating until his words were no longer decipherable and all that remained was incomprehensible cackling.
But then he remembered why he was here, and shame is all he feels after his outburst. How dare he, the yondaime Hokage, regret his sacrifice?
It was a sound that had Minato shuddering in fear, the temptation to clap his hands over his ears strong-he was dead, dead and gone and this was a place worse than Hell; it was this stretch of meaninglessness that had struck such terror within Minato when he had previously thought of death, of dying.
It was his nightmare come to light, come to life, and Minato wanted nothing more than to howl his horror to the sky-not-sky in the hopes that there would be someone there to here to reconfirm the fact that he existed.
But there was nothing.
It left him feeling hollow inside, a cold realization dripping down his back. But life would go on, and he would be alone.
And that's all there would ever be.