From his prison inside of the youths soul, Kurama looked on and wept. To be sure, the child did not remember, none of them ever remembered their lives as Asura. But he could always tell, could always feel it from their souls. Much as he could always tell the reincarnations of Indra, no matter their current flesh. Benefits one supposed to that early life in the Fire Temple, including the at times accursed gift of spiritual awareness. An awareness that, as he was locked into his current prison, hiding inside the reborn soul of his elder brother, was unfortunate as he could not simply ignore who was holding Naruto in their arms.
Because no, the blonde pretty boy, Bakakaze (he would shamelessly steal that from Kushina. The girl complained to him about boys far more than the tailed beast had ever been comfortable with) did not just have to rip him in half before sealing him into the child, but he had to summon an aspect of Death to do so! An aspect which was rocking the blonde youth in its arms, eyes locked into innocent blue orbs, skeletal finger stroking the kits whiskers... and giggling like a preteen girl about how she can't wait to go through with the arranged marriage.
Its not even something he could blame on the summoning, not really. Because he remembers the Uzumaki. Sure, he adopted a less noticeable form, but they welcomed him and allowed him to party with them and treated him like family. Even if he would admit to bickering with his remaining siblings, Asura had been reborn enough times as an Uzumaki that he always checked. And family was nice... even as that branch of the family was batshit insane. Seriously, what other clan was able to summon a death goddess and scam them into signing a marriage contract entirely by accident while three sheets to the wind?
And now she has picked his current container as her intended? Deep inside of the kids soul, the kitsune whimpered and cried. Seriously, why was it now of all times that the curse of interesting times was kicking in? Hell, he would even take being back among the foxes of the Shrouded Tangle now, and at a quarter of them were freaking fangirls! And so, in the neutral illumination of a childs soul did a chakra monster of epic proportions weep and ask 'why me Kami-sama?'
Growing up, Naruto was a cheerful and friendly little shit. To be sure, he was a prankster (this increased after he was introduced to his 'Uncle' by the pretty lady), but most who saw him were afraid of him on a subtle and primal level. In their kneels, the Inuzuka's hounds all agreed, the boy smelled as if he walked in the company of death. And indeed, that was the general impression that most had of him, that he was touched by the grave and that the Shinigami kept a firm eye on him.
Ironically, this was correct, even if not in the way that most really understood. It was not until Hiruzen Sarutobi asked the grinning and clearly happy eight year old he in many ways saw as a second grandson about his 'girlfriend' over Ramen that was confirmed. With a grin and ease born of long practice, the grinning child impaled his eyes with his chopsticks, flopping to the counter in moments, the old kage's heart pausing even as he prepared for the coming tailed beast, wondering just why Teuchi and Ayame seemed unconcerned when he noticed the figure in the blood.
In a way, it is a figure he instinctively knows and is rather familiar with, for he has been on the battlefield and seen far too many breath their last to be sheltered from Death. In many ways, as an old Shinobi, he had thought to muse on Death as an old friend. Only to see the owners and workers of a humble eatery just place a bowl down beside the dead child, not looking at the blood red mirror that showed the most beautiful corpse he had ever seen giving his grandson a lecture and chiding him... before she embraces him, the lucky brats head between breasts that rival his students.
He asks no questions as Naruto blinks and sits up, blood still there as the blonde keeps talking and smiling. He sees but pays no attention to the fact that something unseen eats the contents of that bowl of ramen. He does not really pay attention, as he returns to his home and hugs Konohamaru, as he reassures himself that his family is still alive. But a part of him wants the world to make sense. A part of him wonders what sort of side effects the Reaper Death Seal had on Naruto, and if Minato had any idea what he was really subjecting his son to?
The old man shivers and tries to ignore the feeling of a cold, skeletal hand patting his head, the chill lips pressed against his forehead, and it would not be until years later, as his hands flip through the hand signs, that he would remember that ghostly voice. "Soon, soon, but not today." It was hard not to, with the Shinigami's hand sticking out of his chest, wrapped around his traitorous serpent of a students throat, as he had to listen to thbat giggling that was like chimes, like the tolling of bells...
Some questioned, when Naruto was older, why he did not partake in the Clan Restoration act. Few ever understood him when he said that two wives were enough, considering how he was faithful to Hinata. It was not until the Ĺtsutsuki invaded that the Shinobi world had itself a good view of his other wife. Then again, it came as no surprise at all from the old guard outside of Kohona. Naruto was after all, an Uzumaki, and the fact that Death themself would marry one?
Many a jug of sake was drunk and said that they could indeed believe it and wept, for in the bountiful bosom of Death, the Uzumaki were making a comeback.