his feeble attempts
Kushina sighed, rolling her eyes, "What's with that disgusting face, Namikaze?"
She was holding her bruised, bleeding arm. The offending ninja who caused it lay dead at the bottom of the tree, still holding the kunai that tore across Kushina's arm a little while ago. The gash ran all the way from her elbow to the back of her wrist, and the area around it was slowly turning into an ugly, purplish-blue shade. It hurt when she tried to twist her arm, and the face that Namikaze Minato was making in front of her did not help at all.
"Perhaps we should get you back to Konoha—" He started to say, but Kushina cut him off.
"What are you talking about? I'm fine!" Kushina insisted, standing up.
He follow suite, and started to stammer, "But Uzumaki-san—"
"I'm fine," She snapped, glaring threateningly at the blonde, daring him to contradict her.
Minato immediately bit back what he was about to say with a squeak. They didn't bring any bandages, so Kushina tore off a long strip of her shirt and wrapped it clumsily around her bleeding arm. (He would have done it better and neater, but she shot him a venomous glare when he politely offered to do it).
The rain fell mercilessly by the time they were making their way back to the village, (and when he offered his jacket to her nicely, she stared at him like he just punched her on the nose). The strip of cloth wound around her arm was slowly turning into a sick shade of red, (and when he offered to change the cloth, she stared at him with enough spite to make him retreat meekly).
When he half-jokingly asked her if he could call her Kushina instead of Uzumaki-san, she gave him the most threatening stare she could muster, that he quickly amended himself and said it was a joke and tried to keep an eye on her fist.
They were silent the rest of the way back.