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Genesis

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"We cross our bridges as we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and the presumption that once our eyes watered."

Tom Stoppard in Rosencratz and Guildenstern Are Dead

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This isn't a story about forever.

They're shinobi, through and through, for their skins are calloused and hardened by wars and nights underneath the velvet sky, for the fight is in their blood and their veins are marred by promises of new life that comes along with their death. And while they are not dancers or performers meant to be marveled at by bystanders, they have a rhythm, an unspoken music meant to transcend only the erratic beating of their hearts. The blades are their staccato and the fluid motion of limbs striking like a feline, their most intimate conversation.

She belongs with the tide (crashing against the shore, unforgiving like the maelstroms perpetuating around her home, whirling like riptide) and he with the wind (smooth, deadly, gentle all the same, but he holds the promise of the forever marked behind the leaf).

Somewhere along the way, they meet, crashing and burning faster than the speed of light

This is how they start.

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At the age of seven, Kushina knew that she was more energetic than most kids her age.

She did not easily tire, her body can withstand prolonged periods underneath the glare of the sun. Whereas her peers had to constantly replenish their water and chakra supply ("You're an Uzumaki, duh," a boy 'round her age told her in a matter-of-fact tone, and she resisted the urge to connect her fist with his face), she can stand the rigorous training and exercises in the Academy just fine.

However, what she had for chakra reserves was easily pulled down by her abysmal chakra control. In short: she sucked badly. And that wasn't a good thing for someone who yearned to master the unique and most powerful fūinjutsu because along with having large reserves, one needed to have an excellent chakra control at least, that's what her father told her.

That was probably one of the reasons why she was struggling with the survival test, she realized. In the Academy, they had a lot of written examinations and a bunch of practical tests. The most intriguing and exciting one was the end-of-the-year survival test where they had to climb a nearby mountain (which wasn't really as easy as it seemed), grab a scroll located on the cliff just above a powerful maelstrom, and go back to the village.

Easy.

...not really.

The first part of the test was easy enough for Kushina. Though the sun was battering down her arms, the trek barely exhausted her. The path was relatively simple and clean, so she had no problem going upwards. She stopped a few times to wait for her friends who had to take a water break and took the time to marvel at the sea, still amazed at how something so beautiful could be dangerous whenever a storm strikes. The second part, however, was the tricky one. Using her arm to shield her eyes from the merciless sun, she looked past the huge boulders engraved along a steep path. Beside her, she could hear her classmates talk nervously among themselves.

How the hell...?

From the periphery of her vision, she saw her cousin Saito, the son of the Uzukage, grab a rock with his measly fingers and use the surge of upper body strength to propel his body up.

"Use your chakra!" Saito told them, repeating his actions to a nearby rock. "It works, see?"

Kushina glanced back at her cousin and shrugged before gathering a handful of her chakra on her palm. Blue flickered against her skin, and, forcing herself to focus, mirrored her cousin's actions. Unfortunately, her attempts were neither as graceful nor as successful as his and the others who've grown the courage to imitate Saito. With each attempt she made at concentrating her chakra on her fingertips, she failed harder and harder at each time. The sharp edges of the rock was starting to cut her fingers, digging into her skin, until her grip would slip and she'd tumble down the edge.

Biting her lip, she glanced back and reveled at the canopy of trees behind her. The shades looked so comforting, so inviting

Focus, Kushina, she reprimanded herself before she turned her attention to the chakra on her fingers.

A few minutes later, a good number of her peers were way ahead of her, she was at the ground, and anger was boiling at the very surface of her skin. If there was one thing she hated more than the bitter gourd her mother forces her to feed, it was losing badly.

"OI! HOW DID YOU DO THAT, 'TTEBANE!" she screamed at Saito who was nearing the edge of the cliff. "SAITO! HOW DO YOU "

Why did her chakra control have to suck?

At this rate, she was going to get left behind.

Hell no.

Plastering on a defiant scowl, she tightened her jaw and closed her eyes, furrowing her eye brows in concentration. She felt the chakra continuously build up on her hands, her skin tingling from the sensation. Quickly, she placed her hand on the boulder right above her head and used her upper body strength to heave herself upwards. Her eyes snapped open, a wide grin forming on her features when she realized she made it.

"Yata!"

"Oi, 'shina! You did it!" Saito hollered from the top.

"You wait, Sa " Words were cut from her throat when she saw a huge boulder of rock tipping downwards and going straight to Saito who was peering down at her with an exhausted grin marking his trademark Uzumaki features.

No, no, no, no...!

The boulder was huge. It could crush anyone, even someone as prodigious as Saito. And, even if he was her rival at nearly everything, she knew she couldn't just let him die. He was family, and the Uzumaki was a tight-knit clan. Despite the exhaustion from the concentration she had to exert earlier, she found the strength to gather enough chakra. She had to do something, anything

Suddenly, gold chains materialized from her wrist. As flimsy as they were, they shot through the falling rock, piercing

the boulder until it shattered into tiny pieces. "What...?"

Her other classmates were just as shocked as she was, but she wasn't sure if it was because of the dust that started to sprinkle around the like snow or because of what she did. Before any of them could speak, she heard someone shuffle their feet behind her. Whirling around, still high from the earlier events, Kushina saw her teacher walk forward, his hand clapping together as he motioned everyone to come forward because the test was postponed to a later date. Saito, who remained rooted on his spot, eyes still wide with fear, stumbled forward, nearly bumping into his classmates who started patting him on the back.

Kushina would have joined in with a jab of her own, but something someone, rather else held her attention. Behind the teacher, she saw some of the village elders, looking at her with a look on their face that she couldn't pinpoint. She consciously drew her hands behind her, hoping to erase traces of the chains that showed earlier. For some reason, she felt as if it was something she should hide.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she came home, and her parents looked at her as if they had picked the flowers for her funeral.

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"I'm telling you the truth. I don't know how I did it, otōsan!"

They were sitting at the dining table, having their dinner, when her father brought up the day's events. Initially, Kushina thought she was going to be reprimanded for getting left behind. Her expectations were flushed, however, when her father diverted the topic to... that.

"It just..." She stared helplessly at the food under the incandescent light. "It just appeared... I guess."

Her father pursed his lips and glanced at her mother who smiled at her. Her grin was not as warm as it used to be, and her eyes were marred with concern and hesitation. "Don't worry, Kushina. It's a gift," her mother said. "Even in our clan, the ability to physically manifest our chakra is unique."

Kushina glanced at her mother with as much as wariness her seven-year-old self could muster. "Really?"

Her mother nodded. "Yes, it only means you're special."

"Is that a good thing, 'ttebane?"

Her father shot her a withering look. "Not in this case."

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The next year, her world fell apart.

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This day, Kushina decided with a defiant glare at the aquamarine waters, officially sucked.

Her pudgy fingers traced the sands, lifting them against the faint glare of the sunlight. It twinkled like gold dust and diamonds, dancing underneath the afternoon sun, before she held her arm back and flings it to the sea. Kushina watched with fascination as they drew themselves in haphazard patterns until they settled into the surface of the sea. Swallowing heavily, she closed her eyes and wondered if Konoha would have the eddies she has grown to love or the sea shells she was fond of chasing after or the gold dust, scintillating like magi

"What are you doing here, squirt?" a voice started, rattling her out of her thoughts. With a short-lived squeak that got her squirming at how unkunoichi-like she sounded, she turned around, her crimson hair swinging at the sudden motion. Behind her, Shizue stood, shoulders straight and eyes focused on the waning sun.

"Nothing, 'ttebane," Kushina huffed. The acrid scent of the saltwater made her eyes water, but the pain only sharpened the image of her leaving Whirlpool. The thought was enough to negate any plans of acquiescence on her part. She crossed her arms against her chest, stubbornly sinking lower into the sand, and hoped Shizue got her message loud and clear: Get out. When the older girl refused to budge, Kushina retaliated, the words sounding crisp in her mouth, "What're you doing here?"

Shizue shrugged at her, her gray eyes peering down at Kushina. "Convincing a stubborn kid to come back to the village, I guess."

Kushina stubbornly shook her head and buried her head in her arms. If Shizue's plan was to drag her butt back home, then Kushina would make sure she wouldn't succeed. There was no way in hell she was going to leave Whirlpool. This was her home, her only home, and no one in the freaking ninja world could convince her otherwise. She hugged her knees tighter until her jagged nails were digging on the flesh of her legs. If she didn't have the uncanny habit of biting them, she bet blood would have been dripping down her legs by now.

"Imnotleavinggoaway," Kushina muttered, refusing to look up.

Kushina heard a sigh of exasperation before she recognized the trademark Uzumaki bellow pummeling through her most probably going to be impaired hearing. "OI, KUSHINA! UZUMAKI KUSHINA! Stop sulking and get your butt off this sand or I'm gonna be dragging you down the street 'til we reach your house!"

"I'm not going with you!" Kushina screamed back, but with her face buried in the comfort of her arms, she was pretty sure it sounded along the lines of 'Imrodskfsaklggaskfjsladf'. Not that it made a difference, really.

In one swift motion, Shizue grabbed Kushina's arm, dragging the younger girl out of her stolid state. "Get. Your. Butt. Up!"

"I DON'T WANNA LEAVE, 'TTEBANE! NO!"

There were three things that made Uzumaki Shizue an Uzumaki. First, her hair. Although she preferred to cut it short and just below her chin, it was still the same shade of brilliant crimson red that she carried with pride but not without contempt. Second, her affinity for seals. She was good at it, even if she knew that Kushina could probably best her if the girl just learned how to focus. And third, her temper. Patience wasn't exactly her best feature.

And regardless of Kushina being her most favorite cousin, her limit hit the glass ceiling. She put her hands on her hips and bellowed, "Oi! Look at me! What the fuck is this about, Kushina? God knows you're pigheaded but for the love of fucking Whirlpool, get up! Don't wait for me to "

Kushina flushed an unhealthy shade of red before she placed all her efforts into yanking her arm out of Shizue's tight grip. "Ugh," she gritted her teeth, but to no avail, the older girl's grip only tightened. "Let me go! I'm not gonna go with you 'ttebane! I don't wanna leave Whirlpool! Let me go, Shizue!"

There really was no other way she could go about this except to...

Shizue sighed and narrowed her eyes at her before she reached down and with a quick motion, scooped Kushina up to put her struggling form on her shoulder. Her eye twitched when the younger girl pounded her tiny little fists against her back. She almost groaned at the brute strength. Despite being only eight years old, the kid already showed potential of having monstrous strength.

Kami-sama have pity on me.

"Put me down!" Kushina screamed, increasing the intensity of her punches. A hiss erupted from Shizue's mouth when she took a particularly strong hit.

Ah, shit. Screw this.

"Put me down and let me go, 'ttebane!" Hit. "I don't wanna go!" Hit. "Just." Hit. "Let." Hit. "Me." Hit. "Be!"

The last one was particularly harder than the rest, and just like that, Shizue's patience snapped. In one fluid motion, she released her hold on Kushina's body, letting her form drop from her shoulders, accelerating with each passing second. Shizue saw her indigo eyes widen with fear before a primal instinct flashed across her features, their clan training immediately kicking in. Kushina used that opportunity to flip herself midair before landing squarely on the ground.

She immediately glanced up and glared at Shizue. "What the hell was that for "

"What the hell was that for? Are you seriously asking me that, squirt? Stop throwing a goddamn tantrum! If you think sulking around will make things better, you're wrong! 'sides, what's so bad with going to Konoha for sometime? You're just gonna train with them, so you can teach us their best practices and we wouldn't have to be so reliant on them anymore!" Shizue racked her brain for more things to say — not that she was ever the rational person — but none of the things she could think of seemed convincing enough to elicit another reaction from the younger girl. "It's for the future!"

Truth be told, Shizue, regardless of her previous actions, understood Kushina's mood and behavior. She couldn't imagine having to go to another village at such a young age. Even at the age of fifteen, she still felt homesick and the gnawing feeling at the bottom of her stomach whenever she had to go on missions that stretched infinitely long. To have to be uprooted from her home, her roots, from everything — it wasn't an experience she'd personally force herself to endure.

But, she glanced back at the younger Uzumaki, remembering the training session a few years back, Kushina was... different. Sure, she had a temper the size of the fucking Fire country and a reckless attitude that would be bound to get her in trouble in the future. And yeah, she was exceptionally talented at getting into the nerves of their clan elders, and had the affinity for pranks that exceeded even their clan's standards. However, those things did not erase the fact that even by their standards, her chakra was unique and had the potential to be exceptionally powerful, nor did it change their village's deeply-rooted ties with Konoha.

But she couldn't help the pain that stabbed through her chest when she thought of her cousin trading her life with the sea to that of the... fucking countryside.

"Look, Kushina — "

"Why does it have to be me?" Kushina cried out, slapping a hand against her chest. Angry tears were trickling down her pudgy cheeks. "It can be you or anyone else, but why me? Why can't they pick someone older, 'ttebane?!"

Shizue sighed, swallowing, before she walked towards the younger girl. She took Kushina's clenched fist into her palms and drew circles against her skin, controlling the urge to flinch when she saw the bruises dotting the hand. "Kushina," she said, lowering her voice a tad bit, "do you want to know the reason why they're sending you to Konoha?"

Kushina looked away, a strand of crimson hair falling across her cheeks. Even if Shizue had to strain herself to hear her words, she heard the succeeding syllables loud and clear. "Because they don't want me."

Ah. Despite the grueling training she received as a kunoichi, Shizue's heart still clenched, and it took her sometime to muster the courage to string together the thoughts pervading her mind.

"You're going to Konoha because the village trusts you, squirt." Kushina's head snapped upwards, and suddenly, a pool of indigo was staring back at Shizue. She held back a grin. Good. Tightening her grip on the younger girl's hand, she continued, "Do you remember when shinobi from other nations tried to attack us last year?"

Kushina nodded, having vague recollection of her parents — no, everyone — preparing for war. She clearly remembered how bile swept its way to her throat, the scent of rust and sulfur clogging her senses, and death looming above their heads like a hymn waiting to be sung. The villagers were running around, trying to salvage everything that they can, and applying seals all over their possessions. For the first time in all her seven years, Kushina had a lucid picture of how powerful Uzushiogakure was. Although it wasn't a good time, Kushina knew it was the primary reason why she persevered in the following sessions of her shinobi training.

Uzushio was her home. The port city marked by the erratic waves crashing on their shores and vibrant village — she was going to protect it.

"The Hidden Leaf helped us fight back," said Shizue, her fingers threading their way to cup the younger girl's face. "They're the reason why we still exist and continue to exist as a village. After the attack of Iwagakure, our village elders signed a treaty with the Leaf, declaring that they are obliged to help us if ever the need arises and that we, too, shall be of help to them if they need help."

"Konoha needs our help?" Kushina's voice was meek and tiny, but the bewilderment was there.

Shizue nodded vigorously. Kami-sama, is this how it feels to be a fucking mother? "Yeah," she acceded instead. "Pretty weird, huh?"

"But..." Confusion dotted Kushina's features when she stared back at Shizue, eyes wide. "What does that have to do with me? Other people can go and help, ttebane! Why do I have to — "

"Of course, it's gonna be you, squirt," Shizue said, lifting her chin in defiance. Although she was as clueless as Kushina was about the real reason why her cousin would be sent to Konoha, she believed in the squirt with all she had — kunoichi pride be damned and all. She really did. "That only means the entire village believes in you, 'shina. Do you know what that means?"

The younger Uzumaki shook her head, her shoulders slumping in defeat, but not until Shizue reached forward and uncharacteristically embraced her in a tight hug. And when the words left her mouth, she willed and believed every single word to be true.

"It means you're strong."

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They wasted no time in dispos — sending, she corrected with a grim smile, remembering Shizue's words. They wasted no time in sending her off.

The send-off was as bad as she had thought it would be. Apart from her closest family and friends who ran over to her, hugging her like it was the last time they would ever get to see her — puh-lease, as if! — there was also her classmates who continued to dote over her. Shizue was there, thrusting a package of sweet rice balls ("We all know you're gonna miss it, squirt."), and there were some of her friends from the Academy, not that she had a lot. Saito briefly hugged her and grinned, saying he was so going to kick her butt when she returns (to which she replied with a dignified, "No way, 'ttebane!"). Seeing them was enough to reduce the settling feeling of homesickness, so she decided she would reserve her Uzumaki Kushina beatings to someone outside the port city.

Then, there was her parents.

It was mostly her mother who refused to let go of her, not that Kushina had not expected it. Her mother was always the tender one, but her doting manners were usually contested by her calloused fingers, a mark of a true kunoichi. Her father was a different story. He was usually sterner and less affectionate, traits Kushina knew were important when training someone as hard-headed as her. But when Kushina glanced up and saw her father's eyes glisten, mirroring that of her own, she knew she was done and over with.

"Oi! Stop acting like I'm gonna die, 'ttebane," she said vehemently, pointing a finger at her mother. "It's not like I'm not gonna come back! Just you wait and see — "

Her father stepped forward and placed a firm hand on top of her head. Kushina's eyes widened at the gesture, blinking back the tears that threatened to trickle down her cheeks. "Go, Kushina. Make us proud."

She etched his words in her heart along with the tranquil glittering of the sea.

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Konoha was different.

That was the only thing that registered Kushina's mind as the masked man brought her to the gates of the village, where she found herself face to face with a man in red kimono with a white haori draped around his body. She glanced back at him, trying to trace any similarities he had with the Uzukage, her uncle. Whereas Uzumaki Miroku was boisterous, loud, and fierce, the Hokage, whoever he was, was dignified and gentle.

The masked man's grip tightened around her arms when she shifted backwards, and she bit her lip, a terrible feeling gnawing its way to her stomach. Suddenly, the Hokage smiled at her, his crow's feet crinkling when he stretched out his arms, as if to welcome her.

The hesitation dissipated, and she quickly mirrored his smile with one of her own.

The differences did not end there, she's come to realize. After the Hokage — jiji, she thought — invited her to lunch at some ramen stand — Ichiraku Ramen, the sign read and she glanced at it with detestment — and she's come to realize that this was probably the best ramen she's ever had, her mood began to lighten up. But that didn't mean her eyes did not stray from being critical of her surroundings.

Konoha was simply that different from Uzushio.

In Uzushio, the buildings were high-rise and a fine piece of architecture and artwork. Pillars were decorated with seals, and houses were painted with vibrant colors. Festivals were a big thing back home, so strings of lights and colorful papers were usually strung outside the homes. Kushina glanced around her, finding it hard to believe for people to actually exist without a nearby body of water. Uzushio was not just a port city. There was also a river running through the middle of the village. Ordinary villages preferred to use the bridge to cross, but children, especially her friends, would much rather swim their way through it or walk above it. Laughter was much more common back home, where people, children and elderly alike, openly socialized on the streets and the exchange of knowledge between shinobi and villagers were much more common. Everyone knew seals, and older shinobi who no longer wish to perform missions often indulged themselves in trade, the primary source of living of the villagers.

Konoha, she decided, was too bland for her taste. The barrier between a shinobi and a villager was too domineering.

"How do you find Konoha, Kushina?" the Hokage asked, probably out of politeness, over salt ramen and tea.

"Boring!" The words flew out of her mouth and her eyes widened, realizing she just insulted the village in front of its Hokage. "Uh, um, I mean, it's okay, jiji — "

The son of the owner of the ramen stand — Teuchi, she recalled — guffawed before tossing a bunch of noodles into the pan. "Well said, kid."

Kushina glanced tersely at the bowl of ramen, glaring at it because how can she be so stupid, 'ttebane?

Much to her surprise, the Hokage chuckled a warm and hearty laugh. "It isn't the first time Konoha has been called boring, Kushina," he said, a fatherly tone in his voice, "but it's certainly a first time for me to be called a grandfather."

Kushina flushed red and refused to speak afterwards.

Another difference, she noted was the home she was going to live in. In Uzushio, her home was relatively small. Their house had plenty of space for her family of three. Although her parents were high-ranking shinobi and renowned for their mastery in seals and combat, Kushina knew they didn't indulge themselves in the money from the missions. From what she remembered a large part of her parents' salary usually goes to a nearby orphanage from their village. She was comfortable with their life there, especially because she was neighbors with her cousins and grandparents and pretty much all the Uzumaki she knew.

However, her new house in Konoha was miles apart from where she came from. Whereas her home had the necessities, a few shinobi equipment, and plenty of scrolls to practice her sealing techniques in, the house — mansion, the masked man corrected, the Northern Mansion of the Shodai (whatever that was supposed to mean) — was elegant and beautiful and painfully empty.

Laughter did not echo along the corridors. It was... void of happiness and joy.

It was so cold and lonely. She swallowed the fear the crept into her throat when the Sandaime Hokage urged her to come inside.

It was a house, she knew that much, but her senses told her it housed more than humans inside.

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Back in Whirlpool, Kushina loved her hair. She took pride in it. It was a sign that she was a member of the Uzumaki clan, a clan who served as the foundation of the village, whose sealing techniques remained unrivaled. She wore her hair with pride, refusing to grab a kunai to cut it short, even if situations occasionally called for it.

It was her identity as a person.

But in Konoha, it brought her shame and —

"Look! It's the Tomato!" a dark-haired boy snickered, hands reaching forward to tug on her crimson hair. "Whatcha doin' here, Tomato? Shouldn't you be coming home to your Mama where you can plant yourself in her garden? Oh, right, you're not from here. You don't have a ho —"

She snapped.

A feral instinct overtook her, and she grabbed his arm, before using whatever upper body strength she had to throw him against the wall. She walked towards his limp frame and brought up her fist, using the momentum to slam her fists on top of his head. Her heightened senses allowed her to sense some other children approach her, and their jeers remained loud and clear as the sun outside. Kushina knew they were drawing attention, what with the crie s from the classmate she was too busy beating up and the bruised knuckles she'd have to nurse later on.

But she didn't care. No one had the right to insult her or make fun of her.

"Take back what you said, 'ttebane!" She grabbed a fistful of his hair before proceeding to tug it. "Take." Thump. Hit. "It." Thump. Hit. "Back!"

"Tomato, stop i — "

Without waiting for him to finish, she used her free arm to grab his and send him flying in front of her where her fists found their new target, repeatedly doing the same motion until a kid with irisless eyes called on their teacher.

The next day, she was the Red Hot Habanero.

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It didn't take her a long time to realize no one wanted to be friends with her.

Within a month, she was sure everyone hated her. A few days after that realization, Kushina found herself crawling to her bed, arms curled around her knees as she cried herself to sleep. Angry tears dotted on her pillow, and she found herself wondering how long this mission was going to last?

When will her village take her back? How long was she going to stay here, locked up inside a compound like an animal?

She wanted nothing but home.

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Her academy classmates were boring and mean, but mostly boring. She never thought there would come a day when she'd miss Saito, as much as a genius he was. Kushina was beginning to think that there was something wrong with how Konoha teachers educated ninja. In Whirlpool, one can't just stand and be indifferent.

A shinobi must be firm, they told her before, but she had only laughed it off, shrieking her way out of the classroom. Konoha shinobi were cruel and robotic. Her academy days were filled with fist fights — a lot of them, judging by the bruises and victories she had acquired — and although she formed a mutual camaraderie (more of mutualism, the girl corrected Kushina with a fanged smile) with Inuzuka Tsume, the only girl her age Kushina could stand, there wasn't exactly much for her in Konoha.

She just wanted to go back home, to the sands and the sea, to the vibrant and noisy market, to the nosy academy teachers. Anything was better than this hell.

Konoha shinobi, she concluded, are weak. Forget the fact they helped her village last year. They're sissy and flaky like her blond classmate, Namikaze Minato. He was always so polite, kind, and frustratingly good at everything he does that Kushina wouldn't be surprised to find out he was a villain. He never made fun of her, pulled her hair, or called her stupid. And up to now, his declaration from the very first day reverberated inside her mind:

I want everyone in the village to acknowledge me and become a great Hokage.

Gritting her teeth, she gathered enough force in her fist before connecting it with the genin's face. She jumped on him and started punching him, releasing all the frustration and anger she's been feeling since she came.

At the corner of her eyes, she caught a flash of yellow and molten cerulean, the color of the bright afternoon sky.

Her heart tightened, and she proceeded to finishing her job because there was no way in hell she was going to lose to him.

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Namikaze Minato graduated the following week, an entire year ahead of them. The rest of her classmates cheered on as if he were a hero, but all she wanted was to wring her hands around his neck for being so damn perfect.

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During her spare time, Kushina would find herself usually doing four different things.

First, she'd be playing pranks. By this time, word has spread throughout the village about a redhead notorious for her merciless pranks. Kushina didn't really mind. The villagers were so bo-ring. She could almost imagine how it'd be like in Whirlpool, but she shoved the thought at the back of her mind. It'd be best not to think about her family right now. Kushina was not afraid to cry, but she certainly did not want to shed tears in front of people who'd mock her for it later on.

Second, she'd be eating ramen. Teuchi has grown to love her as a little sister (what with the amount of money she's depositing in their bank every time she eats), and over the past thirteen months she's been living in Konoha, she, miraculously, brought several people over. There's Inuzuka Tsume, Akimichi Chouza (the only one who could best her), and Yamanaka Emiko (a friendly girl who works at the nearby flower shop). Her group of friends was pitifully small compared to the ones she had back home, but a good number of the students in the Academy were either nosy bitches (according to Tsume) or terribly infatuated with Minato-kun (Kushina had to gag at this), so Kushina became content with what she had. Occasionally, the Hokage would stop by to eat lunch with her, but along with growing tensions along the border, his visits became less frequent. Not that she minded. He looked like a proud father when he saw her eating with her friends, that she already thought it was way too creepy.

Third, she'd train under the relentless heat of the sun, allowing its merciless rays to patter down her skin. No one wanted to train with her — partly because of her stamina ("It's crazy, you idiot!" Tsume argued one time) and partly because they're scared shitless about the nine-year-old Habanero-sama of countless victories. In the times she'd slip and feel the sadness pang at her heart, she'd close her eyes and remember Shizue growling at her for being so stubborn and beating Saito's prodigious butt.

Fourth, in the secret confines of her room, she'd practice fūinjutsu. It was bad enough that she was in a foreign country where their definition of excellent seals rivaled Whirlpool's elementary ones. And after her declaration of being Hokage (not that she reallyreallyreally meant it), she knew she'd have to work her butt of to catch up with both Konoha and Whirlpool style. The book her mother gave to her was thick, crazily thick that it had to be sealed in a small scroll, but it had a lot of techniques, ranging from the most basic to the advanced ones she knew only higher officials could use.

Funny, it seemed as if her mother never expected her to come home.

After every boring Academy session, she'd rush home and reach over her scrolls and brush, practicing the strokes with uncharacteristic patience and painstaking accuracy. She may not be physically in Whirlpool, but that didn't mean she couldn't bring it with her.

Precisely for that reason did Uzumaki Mito find her, head bent and eyes completely enamored by the seal activating in front of her.

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"Kushina."

She froze, her eyes widening when she heard the unfamiliar voice call out her name. As far as she knew, there were only around two people living inside the house: her and the other tenant at the far end of the hall. She swallowed, trying to discreetly hide the brush away from the intruder's sight while racking her brain for the hand signs of the seal she learned just a couple of days ago.

"Kushina," the voice repeated, sounding highly amused, "you know better than to make a seal at that state. It will only backfire."

"Uh," Kushina glanced behind her, jaw dropping open when she caught sight of an elderly woman with hair that was... that was so much like hers. The color was less vibrant, but it still screamed the trademark hair she's grown to miss. "What... Who are you?"

It took Uzumaki Mito a good two minutes to stop a crying Kushina from suffocating her ("Is this my advance tenth birthday present, 'ttebane?"), a staggering three to confirm that she was real and Kushina's eyes "weren't fooling her" and that no, she wasn't insane, and a pristine two seconds to convince the girl to let the elderly woman pass on her sealing techniques to her.

.


.

Uzumaki Kushina graduated that year with unexpectedly high marks.

.


.

Team 6 with Hyūga Hizashi and Uchiha Mikoto wasn't as terrible as Kushina thought it would be. Initially, she was eerie because the two were famous for their eye genjutsu and oddly quiet personalities. Too boring, bland, and perpetually average. Hizashi was quiet, often too serious and level-headed to really hit off a friendship with the energetic redhead. Mikoto was a bit too demure for Kushina's personal taste.

But after a few run-ins with bandits and freakishly weird animals, not to mention the weird planting activities Konoha considers as D-class missions, she's grown fond of them and their surprisingly kind sensei, Hatake Sakumo. They were fire and ice thrown in a shinobi world, but somehow they make it work, and it was enough for Kushina to even consider making a home out of this village.

(Really. Whirlpool was fond of stretching her mission so long. Where the hell was her break? Doesn't she get to visit her country once in a while?)

It's been four and a half years since she left home, and though Konoha, with all its lackluster, has etched a special place in her heart. Of course, it wasn't as massive as that the Whirlpool had, but something about the place made Kushina tolerate even the slightest compliments of a prodigious shinobi whose name she knew too well from her encounters with his growing group of admirers.

"So noisy, 'ttebane," Kushina muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes at the chunin and genin trying not to make their movements too noticeable for the blond prodigy. "What do they see in him?"

Mikoto who was walking beside her glanced at her, eyes crinkling with mirth. "I never expected that you'd be fond of Namikaze-san, Uzumaki-sa—"

"Kushina."

Mikoto laughed daintily. "Kushina. You're one of the few people I know who dislike him."

Hizashi nodded silently in agreement, but Kushina swore annoyance also flashed through his features when a scream became a bit too loud for human tolerance.

"Eh?" Kushina wrinkled her nose. "He's too... Namikaze's weird. Plus," she gave an off-handed shrug, remembering their declaration of ambition a few years back, "he's my rival, isn't he? How am I gonna win against him if I... ogle at him, 'ttebane?"

Mikoto laughed, covering her mouth with her hand, and beside her, Hizashi had a tiny smile on his face. Kushina rolled her eyes at her team's antics. But before she could get any word out, Mikoto was already waving to someone behind her.

Kushina spared the person a glance, eye twitching when she caught sight of the stupid mop of blond hair and striking blue eyes that somehow, somehow, mirrored the seas of Uzushio.

Ugh.

.


.

In a few days, Kushina realized how little Namikaze Minato and his pretty hair and bright blue (no, they're not beautiful, no way) eyes was compared to all her other problems.

The main one being a demon fox with monstrous nine tails who will take residence inside her. Her hands trembled at the thought, her very essence getting squished at the intensity of the emotions she was feeling, and her heart breaking when the truth dawned upon her. Inside the dim office of the Sandaime Hokage, she did not see his grim features or the way his eyes softened when a lone tear trickled down her cheeks. She neither felt Mito-sama's strong and firm grasp on her shoulders, nor the alert stance of the ANBU and the three high-ranking officials.

In her mind, her family, her village, surfaced, imprinting on her memory how they looked (how her father looked like he wanted to cry for her) when her chakra chains manifested, how it was a big deal for them, and how, out of so many shinobi and qualified people in their village, they chose her.

It all made fucking sense now, and along with the bittersweet realization came the shattering of her tiny fragile heart into a million pieces.

They gave her away.

A kunoichi must be strong. She does not break down, is not weak, does not easily falter. She carries her nightmares and demons with grace. There is neither room for weaknesses nor emotions. And she is not weak.

But for the first time since she had been a genin, she found herself breaking every single damn rule when her sobs escaped her throat and she cried.

.


.

"We must fill the vessel with love."

There was no love for her out there, she wanted to reason, because she was neither dignified nor beautiful the way Mito-sama had been before she became the host of the Kyuubi.

Kushina was just... Kushina. She didn't even know where her loyalty lies (Konoha or Uzushio?) or what her identity is (refugee or Uzumaki?). She kept everything a secret from Mikoto and Hizashi, from the small pool of comrades she slowly earned, from her own Sakumo-sensei (even if she was damn sure he knew), from everyone she knew she could hurt. She kept it a secret because she knew she was going to lose herself, and she might as well hold on to that smallest trace of humanity she had left in her. She was a blur in a mess, and somehow, in the middle of it all, she became her own demon.

Where was the love in that?

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.

Kick.

Thump.

A hiss erupted from the back of her throat when the kick connected with her stomach, and she struggled to get up, the rocks scraping her palms. At the back of her mind, she faintly thought about the village hidden by the canopy of trees and wondered if they would even notice she was gone.

After all, she was nothing but a vessel to them. And risking the lives of countless of people to save the measly one of her own wasn't a wise political and military tactic to pull off. With a resigned sigh, she bit her lip and forced her legs to get up. It was ironic, she decided as her fingers wove through the strands of her crimson hair, that people were after her chakra, the only thing in this world she'd gladly give up, if it meant coming back to the home beside the sea, and that in a dire situation, she was relying on her crimson hair, the part of her she learned to loathe with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

And she wondered if leaving strands of her hair was a sign of her growing insanity.

Kick.

Thump. Thump. Kick.

"Get up!"

It's for Mito-sama, she decided, her eyes catching a faint image of fading canopy. Panic rose to her throat when she realized that they were edging the border of Fire country and there was no going back. Not that there were options for her to begin with. The woman she'd learned to acknowledge and love as her own grandmother had put off the extraction and sealing of the nine-tailed bijuu for as long as she could, and everyone could see the toll it had on her deteriorating health. She had the longevity of a true-blooded Uzumaki, but even their life-force had its limit. She was going to go anytime soon.

And Kushina was no idiot. She knew if Mito-sama was going to pass away without having the Kyuubi extracted from her and sealed into Kushina, the Kyuubi would 'die' and resurrected sometime in the future, and possibly wreck another havoc. Even if Kushina has always been selfish, she knew she couldn't let that happen.

She didn't want other people to die because she wasn't ready.

But maybe there was a silver lining to having the Kyuubi transferred to her. If Kumo was after her because they wanted to seal a bijuu into her, surely, her body couldn't handle two of them, right? Then again, that would never negate the fact that she failed her village, she failed Konoha, and, quite possibly, the only person who accepted her for who she was and what she would become.

I'm sorry.

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.

At thirteen, Uzumaki Kushina knew better than to believe in sappy stories because, you know, they were pretty idiotic. Who needed a knight-in-shining-whatever if she could kick butts and save the day? It was pointless, she decided, to have to rely on someone else who could leave he—

"You're an important part of Konoha," he had said.

Uzumaki Kushina rolled her eyes and diverted her gaze so he wouldn't see the crimson that had rushed through her cheeks because if getting saved by one Namikaze Minato wasn't humiliating enough, the erratic beating of her heart against her chest was. With a quick (and sort of flimsy) resolve, she gathered what was remaining of her shattered pride (and dignity) and jumped off his arms, almost slipping when she landed on a nearby branch.

"O-oi! I got kidnapped, not mutilated," she had scoffed, when he rushed in order to help her up, and in one fluid motion (ignoring the thumping rush of blood inside her head and the feeling of being light-headed that came along with it), she was up and running.

She wasn't going to go back in his arms, 'ttebane. No way.

If he was surprised by her actions, he hid it well with a genuine smile of his own, one that really yanked her back to the maelstroms surrounding her home and the bright cerulean sky, one that promised a new start and the beginning of a beautiful day. On the way back, Kushina mentally slapped herself (repeatedly) and gnawed on the inside of her cheeks until iron infiltrated her senses. But the pain neither dulled her senses, nor kept her from recounting his words, that awfully sounded like the lapping of waves against the shore.

I didn't want to lose you.

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.

When they got back, the first thing she did was rush to the Hokage's office and announce that she was ready for the extraction and that there was no way she was going to let Mito-sama have to endure her pain any longer. If, by any means, they were taken by surprise by her sudden decision, they wasted no time in trying to hide it.

Fill the vessel with love, she repeated like a mantra.

Kushina may not know what love was, but she wasn't going to let Mito-sama pass away without filling her with it.

She held on to the warm smile and embrace that her grandmother gave her all throughout the extraction and into the moments when she woke up, holding the hand of a smiling Uzumaki Mito who rested by her side.

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.

It took her a good week to finally muster the courage to thank Namikaze.

Mito-sama's funeral was attended by nearly all the villager, and the three days that followed the sealing were one of the most painful ones Kushina had to live by. It wasn't just the physical exhaustion of having to cage a chakra so heavy and tainted with negative emotions. Even sharing the roof with Senju Tsunade did not make things better. The emotional exhaustion that came with the realization that her only living relative in Konoha was dead, left a huge hole in her heart. Suddenly, the afternoon sessions that she spent practicing the seals Mito-sama left for her to learn were empty.

If her team was curious about her absence, they spoke none of it. It was one of the times Kushina was grateful her teammates also had clan traditions to shoulder. They may now know the gravity of her situation, but they understood that there were things that must be done, even at the cost of one's happiness.

And then, there was Namikaze — kind, pure-hearted, and strong Namikaze Minato who should really avoid getting affiliated with her because she would be nothing but a burden and trouble for him. If anything, she could probably kill him. Then again, Kushina was afraid that the random bursts of energy and fluttering of her stomach whenever she caught sight of charmingly genuine smile would translate into something deeper like a petty puppy crush.

Hell no, 'ttebane!

She had to do something about it.

"Oi, Namikaze," she told him one afternoon, when she was sure his teacher and teammates were not around (because that would be sosososososo embarassing). 'Sides, he probably noticed her, given the way his body position shifted when she started to approach him.

He was lying on his back, sweat dripping on his face that was slowly becoming more defined. Upon hearing her words, he sat straight, his blond hair, glittering underneath the afternoon sun. Kushina had the vaguest recollection of the sands from Whirlpool, but she pushed the thought away before it got to her.

"Uzumaki-san. How are you?" he greeted, being the polite boy that he was. It made Kushina want to strangle him because she knew one of these days, his genuine concern would come with an attached suicide mission —

Shoot, no, no, no. When did she start caring about him?

Never.

"Fine."

"I'm glad." Another smile on his pretty face —

Kushina mentally groaned, wanting to smack herself. Pretty face? When the hell did the wimp turn into a pretty face? He was more than a pre—

No, 'ttebane. She wasn't going there. Per usual, her usual reckless attitude went on ahead and she dove headfirst without thinking when she said:

"Wanna spar?"

Thank you, she wanted to say, but she figured what she ended up saying was kinda close to it.

.


.

A spar turned into two, then three, then —

Kushina lost count. She just knew that it became a habit that molded their relationship into something that resembled camaraderie and remotely friendship. Suddenly, Namikaze Minato became more than a flaky wimp she secretly detested and envied. He became a friend, a comrade, and the puppy crush she wished to crush developed into something inkling to genuine concern whenever he got hurt. On her good days, she shared her knowledge about seals (scratch that, she taught him tons because he was Minato and when he was curious, he was really curious).

But she liked the way his molten blue eyes flashed dangerously whenever he'd accomplish something, so she gave him bits and pieces of her home.

It took them a twenty-seven months (not that she was counting, 'ttebane) to finally call each other by first names (because Kushina was stubborn like that) and she refused to call him Minato and hear him say Kushina, until she was sure all she felt for him was purely platonic.

It was better that way, she figured on a particular afternoon where they were both weary and tired from their spars and there was nothing but comfortable silence between them. It was one of the rare times where girls were not running after the sixteen-year-old adolescent, and Kushina could appreciate how formidable of a shinobi he had become. With a new war looming overhead and rumors that shinobi were getting sent out to perform more dangerous missions, she took all the time that she had with him.

A few minutes into the silence, Minato sat up straight and Kushina was reminded of the afternoon a few years back when she first asked him to spar. She swallowed, her hand absentmindedly making its way to her abdomen where spirals marked her fate. "Kushina," he said, "do you want to drop by Ichiraku before going home?"

Kushina blinked. "You're asking me about ramen? I thought you're a genius, idiot. 'f course, I'm not gonna say no!"

Much better that she could protect him than love him, she decided.

After all, the best thing she could do for him, was keep him at a distance.

.


.

"You're spending an awful lot of time with Minato-kun, Kushina," Mikoto told her one sunny afternoon.

"He's a good sparring partner, I guess," Kushina replied, nonchalantly shrugging at her. From the periphery of her vision, she saw Mikoto's eyes crinkle with mirth. "Why'd you ask?"

"He gave you that necklace for your birthday last year. Does he know that you often wear it?"

Kushina blinked and reached for the necklace only Mikoto knew she wore. The sea glass glinted every time it was hit by the rays of the sun. "Um, maybe? Who knows, Mikoto? He prob'bly knows, you know how he's a genius and all."

Mikoto only watched her friend with a knowing smile, knowing fully well that despite Minato's prodigious shinobi skills, he could be as dense as her stubborn red-haired friend.

.


.

The following day, the Hokage called for her, wasting no time to hand over an awfully thick letter that had the Uzumaki seal stamped on it. Kushina's heart immediately leaped with joy and she rushed forward to grab it.

"What's this, 'ttebane?! Is this from Uzushio?" Out of excitement, she undid the seal, one at a time, and watched as the letters unfolded in front of her eyes.

The Sandaime watched her cautiously. "An agreement," he said after a while. "The Whirlpool wants you back — "

Her eyes widened.

" — on the condition that they would supervise your training as a kunoichi and as jinchuuriki." The Sandaime cleared his throat, carefully studying her expression. "With the upcoming war and threat against both Uzushio and Konoha and with the news that Kumo and Iwa have gained fully control of their — "

"You want me to be a weapon," she said, unable to mask the dull pain in her chest. Kushina closed her eyes, swallowing the bile that rose to her throat. Of course, they'd need another bijuu to fight against another one. But she also knew that in that case, in that case, the secret she tried so hard to keep people from finding out would be exposed to the world and she —

And she would become the very monster she feared she would be.

.


.

That night, Kushina dreamt about Minato.

She dreamt of him falling at the hands of the enemy, eyes lifeless and cold, body rigid, hair tattered and marked with the undeniable shade of blood. She saw the blade slice through his body and another jolt of chakra blast disintegrate him into a tiny million pieces —

That night, Kushina woke up in heaps of sweat, body dripping with cold terror, the Kyuubi's chakra pulsating within her, threatening to escape, and for a moment, she hated what she had become. Then again, there was no sense running from it now.

Saying goodbye to Mikoto, Hizashi, Tsume, Chouza, Sakumo-sensei, adn the good number of people she considered her friends was hard enough. It was Minato that was the tricky part (whatever, screw her pride).

Coincidentally enough, when she had gone to Minato to inform him of her departure, she discovered that Jiraiya would drag him to some kind of apprenticeship, and she figured that, hey at least a sannin — no matter how perverted — could keep her friend safe.

.


.

"I'm leaving," he said, hesitation flickering through his eyes. Was there something more? No, there couldn't be. They were friends, and that was all they could ever be.

She glanced at him and smiled, almost wistfully. "Yeah, me too." Then, in a louder voice (so he wouldn't get sappy and weird), she said, "Train hard, 'k? I'd hate to have to save your butt when I come back, 'ttebane!"

If she came back, that is. But she left that tiny detail out and chose to reciprocate his grin.

.


.

Her hands were sweaty, and it took her a moment to convince herself that her discomfort was because of the heat of the sun kissing down the trail of her arms. It didn't matter that autumn was kissing the leaves, and the temperature outside was just as freezing — boiling, she corrected — as the waters near Whirlpool will be. And so she kept her lips firmly pursed, chanting the mantra inside her head.

She was not nervous. No way in hell, 'ttebane.

With her clammy hands, she mustered all the courage her sixteen-year-old self has and grinned up at him, pointing a finger to his chest. By now, he had gotten used to her outbursts, and all he did was reciprocate her smile with one of his own.

How the hell did they manage to go from then to this?

"Oi" — Namikaze, idiot, flake never quite make it out of her mouth because his name flows languidly, and she relished the moment because who knows when she'll have the chance to say it again? —"Minato."

"Kushina," he said, and her heart sang.

Her thoughts were torn between God, what is happening to her? and something more coherent, logical, and she wisely stepped off the comfort of her feelings, choosing to go with what her brain is telling her to do. Taking a step back, she looked back at him, taking her sweet time threading between the ground and his molten blue eyes. A thousand things were running inside her head, a million thoughts pervading every single heart beat, and for the first time in forever, she could not get a word out.

Be safe. Don't be stupid! Take care of yourself and don't go around playing hero because because you need to be Hokage first before you die. You're strong, but think about yourself too because I nee

"Don't go where you know I can't follow," she muttered instead, instinctively looking away, so he wouldn't see how her cheeks are tainted red, and —

"You'll know where to find me," he said.

When she looked back, his smile was dazzling like the sun.

And she figured she could hold on to that.

.

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to be continued