This story is predominantly about Sakumo and his mother (my character) Saiya, trying to move on after the death of the Second Hokage. The story is told in a flashback, which in turn has its own flashbacks. Consider this a Flashback Inception.
It has been a personal goal of mine to write a female character that comes across as strong, vulnerable, independent, weak, gutsy and fragile (in other words, a realistic female character). Perhaps I have succeeded in my endeavor, perhaps not. But as always: comments, criticism and applause are welcome.
Kushina stared into a sea of wrinkles and stern faces. The heavy smell of wisdom and aged perfume choked the air, but she endured it with a stoicism few knew she possessed. Three great women sat across the table from her—taking her measure. Two, she knew well. Biwako sat directly across from her, the stern frown indenting two lines into her cheeks. Mito sat to Biwako's right, crippled with great age and a long illness. Despite this, her milky eyes still held a great kindness and she still clung to a regal bearing. The woman sitting to Biwako's left looked equally as old, with her back curved and cheeks long and hollow. Her face was turned from Kushina, her attention focused on whatever lay beyond the window. She looked as if she had already passed on into the next life—there was a wispiness about her that reminded Kushina of a ghost.
The woman seemed so familiar to her and yet…she couldn't place it.
"Uzumaki Kushina," Biwako began, folding her hands sternly beneath her chin. "You stand as the next hokage's wife—a position that comes with a great deal of responsibility."
"I understand, Lady Biwako," Kushina acknowledged politely, hoping she gave off the impression of one who was indeed responsible. But by the skeptical look Biwako was giving her, she doubted she pulled it off.
"No," Biwako said, flatly. "I do not think you do."
The older woman continued. "You are being placed in a position where all eyes of the village will be upon you. Your actions will now have consequences for your people. Your looks, you words and your decisions will be closely scrutinized by the council. To be the lady of this village you must be strong—and I have my doubts that you have what it takes."
Kushina breathed in carefully, trying to keep the hurt hidden behind an impassive mask. "Have I done something to make you think so, Lady Biwako?" she asked, the words hissed through gritted teeth.
Biwako tapped meaningfully on a stuffed folder that threatened to burst from the number of papers crammed into its hold. "Where shall I begin?"
"Enough, Biwako." A soft voice commanded, although the words carried as much force as a breath. "We did not come here to scrutinize the girl."
Kushina blinked appreciatively at the strange, old woman but she did not appear to notice. The woman's eyes had already returned to the blue sky just beyond the window.
"I agree with Saiya," Mito sighed, granting the girl an affectionate smile. "We are here to offer her council—as we once did for you, Biwako."
Biwako held the expression of any toddler who had just been reprimanded by a scolding parent, with her lips pressed tightly together and the two wrinkles on her cheeks becoming even more pronounced.
"Very well then," she huffed, reshuffling the papers in the file.
"Do you have questions, child?" Mito asked, kindly.
Questions? Kushina thought sardonically. Only a couple million.
"What am I supposed to do?" She asked finally, the words so uncharacteristically meek.
"You are there for the hokage," Mito said, clasping her wrinkle worn hands together on her small lap. "He carries the weight of the village on his shoulders and you are there to stand beside him and take on the burdens he cannot carry."
She made the position sound so lofty. So noble. But is that not what any woman would do for the man she loves?
"You will help him make decisions," Biwako added. "You have no position on the council and no official say in the village, but you will be the hokage's most trusted confidant."
"The village is as much in your hands as it is in Minato's," Mito said solemnly.
Kushina was not a woman easily overwhelmed—she would never had made a good container for the Kyuubi if she had been—and yet she felt as if the walls were slowly closing in around her. What would they think if she had a panic attack? She didn't think it was possible to fall any lower in Biwako's opinion, but she wasn't willing to risk finding out.
"This meeting has gone on long enough," the same wispy voice floated out. "I am tired."
Biwako's eyes bulged. "We have only just started!"
"We are wasting our time here," Saiya said, rising from the chair with the slowness of the dead.
So this woman wasn't on her side either, Kushina thought bitterly.
The woman stared steadily at Kushina, her eyes sparkling gold, the only thing untouched by the dullness of age. "You can't teach someone to be the wife of a hokage."
It then clicked with an embarrassing slowness just who this woman must be. Kuroki Saiya. The wife of the second hokage. Kushina watched her leave with her mouth slightly ajar. She had never seen the second's wife before. The woman was a notorious recluse. Which was fine by the villagers, who did not seem to share the same love for Saiya as they did for Mito.
Biwako looked agitatedly at the door as it clicked with a defiant finality.
Mito covered her mouth politely, trying to disguise the fatigue that showed everywhere else on her body. "I am afraid I had a long day. You will have to forgive these old bones. Perhaps we can continue another time," she said. "Kushina will not learn everything in a day."
Biwako begrudgingly agreed to end the meeting.
She gratefully left the women and the stuffy room for the comfort of the open night sky and the bustling of the village. Was this to be her life now? Boring meetings with people who will never see her as being good enough?
It was early evening. She doubted Minato would be home anytime soon. Kushina looked dully down the street, searching for some excuse not to return to the empty apartment. Her excuse appeared in the shape of the old woman, whose fragile bent frame appeared through a crack in the crowd of the street. She had the mystifying urge to follow this Old Saiya. She could just imagine the look of reproach Minato would give her if he found out—but the keyword was if.
It wasn't difficult to catch up with the old woman. She was still ambling her way down the street, each step a painful, carefully considered motion. Kushina was mindful to stay well behind the elder, just in case the old girl still clung onto some of her old kunoichi skills. It occurred to her, as she followed the woman from a distance, that there was no real reason to follow this woman.
Perhaps the only reason she had looked so familiar was because they had simply passed each other on the street one morning. But then she caught a glimpse of the woman's reflection in a store window and she knew in her gut that it was more then that. There was something incredibly familiar about her but damn if she knew what it was.
They ended up on one of the less traveled streets, filled with tired shops and worn-out civilians. The woman stopped just outside a dark teashop—staring thoughtfully at the empty room through the old glass.
Kushina took a few steps out, standing directly behind the old woman, trying to see what held the old woman's attention so adamantly.
"This is the problem with you shinobi," the woman sighed unexpectedly, causing Kushina to jump a foot in the air. "You think because our senses are not at good as yours we must be blind, deaf and dumb."
"I'm sorry," Kushina said, slightly taken aback. She had naturally assumed this woman knew about her presence—had this woman not been a ninja?
"Why are you following me?" She asked slowly, her tone not angry, simply curious.
Kushina's cheeks glowed red with embarrassment. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "It's kinda hard to explain. I just feel like—like I have seen you somewhere before. Or like we met a long time ago."
The woman huffed at her stuttered excuse, digging deep within the folds of her pocket for a key. "Well I suppose as long as you are here, you could come up for a cup of tea."
"Thank you," Kushina said automatically. This had been more then she had hoped for. The old woman led her up the stairs, to the apartment above the shop, with a slowness that would have tested the patience of Buddha.
"You live here?" She asked when she entered, unable to believe the village would allow one of their hokage's wives to live in such a cramped little apartment.
"I lived here for quite some time with my husband," she said, looking fondly around the tight walls.
"You mean the nidaime lived here!?" She looked around for some redeeming quality in the place—searching for a sign one of the world's greatest shinobi's had walked in these cramped halls.
The old woman gave a gleeful cackle. "No. I lived here with my second husband, Riku."
Kushina stiffened in place. "You—you remarried?"
She could not understand why but the idea horrified her. She did not know this woman—she had no right to judge, but… how could she? If Minato died before her—the idea made her shudder—she would never allow him to do that. But even if he did, from the bottom of her soul she knew, there was no man alive that would replace him, not even if she scoured the universe for him.
"Such judgment in those pretty eyes," the old woman noted, unbothered. It was a look she had long grown accustomed to. "That's how you get wrinkles."
"Why?" She asked, the question slipping out before she had time to snatch it back.
"Why do we get wrinkles?" The woman repeated, thinking it over with serious consideration. "Gods, I do not know. I would be so much happier if my cheeks were as tight as yours again."
Kushina scowled at the teasing. "That's not what I meant."
"Oh so you meant to ask an extremely personal question of an old woman you barely know?" The old woman eyed her levelly, eyes staring with the perfectly calculated stare of disapproval.
Kushina felt a deep blush explode over her cheeks. Why had she been cursed with such a big mouth?
"Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassment burrowing into her chest. If she could not even talk to this little old lady without making a fool out of herself how could she be expected to speak to diplomats and dignitaries?
The old woman's eyes softened to a warm gold. It had been a lifetime ago but she remembered feeling the same uncertainty—the same feeling that she had failed before even trying.
"I was not raised in the village or in any ninja clan. I was a waif of a girl with nothing. No family, no money and no skills. I had never belonged to anything and nothing had ever belonged to me. Tobirama brought me to his new village and soon enough it became my village. For the first time in my life I had friends, a family and a place where I belonged." The old woman's wrinkles deepened into a smile at the memory.
"But I suppose just as quickly as things are given to you—they are taken away. My husband was killed suddenly, the council tried to take my son from me and I became a young, useless widow who really had nothing to contribute to a village my husband had given everything to. When Riku came into my life, it felt like I belonged somewhere again."
As she spoke she nodded her head to a fireplace mantel, where a row of pictures sat neatly framed. One picture in particular grabbed her attention. A young, pretty woman was kissing the cheeks of a mortified looking Kakashi. Kushina moved closer to the mantel to get a better look at the picture.
Suddenly, it made sense. The disgruntled looking boy certainly could have passed off as a mask-less Kakashi but she should have recognized those eyes.
"That's why you look so familiar," Kushina said her excitement turning the words into a shout. "You're Sakumo-sensei's mother!"
The woman frowned. "I was."
Kushina looked back in awe at her young sensei and then to the portrait set lovingly next to it. The same woman stood with her arms on her proud looking son's shoulder and there, resting a hand on the boy's head, stood the proud-looking second hokage. She felt like an idiot for not noticing her teacher's striking resemblance to the Second. How many times had she stood looking at the portraits in the hokage's office, awaiting a reprimand for her latest prank? How had she not noticed that they shared the same hair, the same masculine structure in their chin? The only thing that seemed to set them apart was where the Second's eyes were a glaring garnet, her own teacher's had been a warm, melted amber. Why had her sensei never said anything about being the son of the second hokage? Would he have told her if he had had more time?
"Why didn't you come to the funeral?" She asked suddenly, the excitement dispersing and her notorious quick temper flaring up as she remembered the horrible day of her sensei's empty funeral. The day she had thought her sensei had no other family then the son he left behind.
"I saw no reason to go," she answered simply, shrugging the matter off as if she had only forgotten to pick up a few things from the store. Kushina's hands curled into fists. Her sensei did not deserve such callousness. Not from the village, not from his teammates and certainly not from his own family.
"So you disowned him," she growled. "Because he saved his teammates instead of completing the mission."
"You think I disowned him for that?" The woman cackled, a terrible, angry sound. "He could have burned this village to the ground and I could not have cared!"
"Then why…"
"Because he went and did something far worse." The old woman's eyes were suddenly dark like cold ore in the earth. "He threw away the life I gave him and the life his father died to protect and I cannot forgive him for that."
Saiya looked down, obviously noting the redhead's furiously shaking fists.
"You are not a mother," she said steadily. "I cannot expect you to understand my feelings."
"I think I understand you perfectly," Kushina spat. "You are a heartless old crone! As soon as your husband dies, you move on to the next available man. Your son makes one slip up and suddenly you don't have a son! All you can think about are your own feelings—no wonder everyone in this village hates you! You're selfish, rude and arrogant! You didn't deserve to be the hokage's wife!"
Saiya blinked back at the young woman's anger with an eerie calmness. "You are saying things of which I already know, child. I have lived my entire life being judged by others."
"As I imagine, you have, as well," Saiya added, leveling her eyes at the Kyubbi container. Kushina lowered her eyes, folding her arms tightly around herself.
"I know you are scared," she continued. "I know you think you are not good enough. And I know it seems impossible to prove everyone wrong."
She sighed pausing for a moment to look out the window as if the words for her feelings could be found, out in the starry night.
"I am the last person you should come to with questions on how to be a hokage's wife," she said, finally. "But I do want to help you. I understand why you must hate me and I have no speech, that I can think of, that will change that. But I would like you to understand my choices because these are the choices you may have to make someday."
Kushina looked the woman up and down curiously. She seemed as solid as an apparition but there was no denying there was still a hard flint in her eyes. Kushina looked uncomfortably around the small apartment, silently wondering what she was supposed to do.
"Will you sit down and listen to my story?" The old woman asked, steadily.
Kushina looked over the photos once more, an undeniable curiosity growing larger in her chest. Saiya must have noticed, as she settled deeper into her chair and began:
"The first year was hard—very hard."
Listen, I know Mito would not be alive when Kushina becomes the Kyuubi container and undoubtedly events may not be completely consistent with the manga or anime, but hopefully that does not completely put you off the story.