AN: Im lowkey a bit tierd, working on the chapter for 4 and a half hours but mainly bc i was distracted. Also guys soon ill start a DXD fic and continuing this one. The DXD fic will have slower updates 1 chapter a week at minimum. unlike the 2 chapters a week here. Special 1 month chapter also coming out tomorrow.
1.4k words Short chapter
Chapter 9 (Konoha POV)
Second year was supposed to mean she had adjusted and could now fit in with her classmates, but it felt like she was a reject Instead, it felt like she was something unwanted. A mistake the Academy had not figured out how to correct.
To fit in, she had once stood in front of the entire class and shouted,
"I will be the next Hokage."
They had laughed.
Not just the students.
The teachers too.
Kushina had survived her first year. She had learned the rules, memorized the streets of the village, and forced smiles when her grandmother Mito looked at her with quiet expectation.
Apparently, that was supposed to make Konoha feel like home.
It did not.
Home was not a place where people looked at your hair before they looked at your face. Home was not a place where adults softened their voices when they said your clan name, as if Uzumaki were something fragile or something dangerous.
Or a joke she was not allowed to understand.
Kushina stood near the Academy gates, her hands gripping the straps of her bag.
Children moved around her in groups.
Laughing. Talking. Running.
Like they belonged.
Konoha children were strange like that.
They treated the village like it was the center of the world because, to them, it was. Their parents lived here. Their clans had roots here. Their names meant something.
Kushina's name came from somewhere else.
Uzumaki.
The teachers said it with respect.
The adults said it carefully.
The students said it like a passing rumor or a legend.
A pair of boys passed by, glancing at her hair. One leaned closer to whisper.
Kushina didn't hear the words.
She didn't need to.
Her grip tightened.
"Say it louder," she muttered.
They didn't.
They hurried off.
Good.
If they wanted to stare, they should at least have the courage to stand still afterward.
"You are going to scare the first years."
Kushina turned sharply.
A girl stood a few steps away. Dark hair. Pale skin. Calm eyes that made her seem older than she was. Her posture was straight, her uniform neat, and the red and white fan crest rested against her collar.
Uchiha.
Kushina recognized her after a moment.
Mikoto Uchiha.
Third year.
The kind of student teachers liked.
The kind Kushina didn't.
Kushina looked her up and down.
"Maybe the first years should be scared."
Mikoto tilted her head slightly.
"Of you?"
"Of staring too much."
For a moment, Mikoto said nothing.
Then the corner of her mouth lifted slightly.
Not a full smile.
Almost one.
Kushina narrowed her eyes.
"What?"
"Nothing," Mikoto said calmly. "You just look like you want to punch someone."
"I do not."
Mikoto's gaze dropped to Kushina's clenched fists.
Kushina immediately loosened them.
"That proves nothing."
"Of course."
That made it worse.
Kushina huffed and turned toward the Academy.
"I have class."
"Not for another twenty minutes."
Kushina paused.
Mikoto nodded toward the training grounds behind the building.
"Come with me."
Kushina frowned. "Why?"
"Because sitting behind a desk while angry usually makes people more angry."
"And training with you will fix that?"
"Probably not," Mikoto said. "But it might help."
Kushina didn't want to admit it.
But it would.
The training grounds were mostly empty. A few older students stretched near the far fence, and an instructor was setting up targets near a row of wooden posts.
Mikoto led her to a quieter patch beneath a line of trees.
Kushina dropped her bag.
"Taijutsu?"
"Light sparring."
"I don't do light."
"I can tell."
Kushina almost smiled.
They faced each other.
Mikoto settled into position, calm and balanced.
Kushina lunged.
Fast and aggressive.
Mikoto stepped aside with a smooth shift, guiding Kushina's wrist away and tapping two fingers against her shoulder.
"Point."
Kushina blinked.
"That wasn't a point. That was a tap."
"A tap showing where the strike would have landed."
"Then hit me properly."
"No."
Kushina scowled.
"Why not?"
Mikoto's expression softened slightly.
"Because you are already fighting the entire village in your head. I don't need to join them."
Kushina froze.
The words hit harder than any strike.
The noise of the Academy faded.
Her shoulders dropped slightly.
"You don't know anything about that."
"No," Mikoto said quietly. "Not exactly."
That answer was worse.
Kushina didn't know how to fight that.
She followed Mikoto into the shade and sat across from her.
"You're an Uchiha," Kushina said.
Mikoto nodded.
"People don't stare at you like that."
"No," Mikoto said. "They stare differently."
Kushina frowned.
"Some admire the name. Some fear it. Some resent it. Most think they understand it."
"And they don't?"
"No more than they understand yours."
Kushina went quiet.
Mikoto looked toward the Academy.
"My grandfather was Setsuna Uchiha."
Kushina glanced at her.
"I've heard of him."
Mikoto nodded.
"He believed the Uchiha were being pushed out of power. That the Senju held the center of the village and the Uchiha were kept under watch."
Kushina listened.
"He wanted to take that power back."
Kushina studied her.
"What do you call that?"
Mikoto looked down at her hands.
"A wound that never healed properly."
The words lingered.
Kushina swallowed.
"I'm not trying to be difficult."
"I know."
"I just…" her voice tightened. "I hate when they look at me like I don't belong here."
Mikoto gave her a small, sad smile.
"You don't."
Kushina's head snapped up.
"What?"
"You don't belong here. Not the way they expect."
Kushina stared at her.
"You're loud when they expect silence. Angry when they expect gratitude. You don't shrink."
"…That's a problem?"
"For them, yes."
Kushina huffed, crossing her arms.
"That's not better."
"It wasn't meant to be."
A brief pause.
Then Kushina let out a short laugh.
"…You're weird."
Mikoto stood.
"Again?"
Kushina rolled her shoulders.
"Yeah. But I'm hitting you this time."
"You can try."
This time, Kushina moved with more control.
Less anger.
More focus.
She still missed.
But she lasted longer.
One breath more.
And this time, she didn't feel as alone.
Hokage Office
The door opened without warning.
Hiruzen did not look up immediately.
"How many times have I asked you not to enter like that?"
Danzo stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
"This is not a matter that allows courtesy."
That made Hiruzen look up.
Danzo rarely rushed.
"Speak."
Danzo's visible eye narrowed slightly.
"The Raikage has a son."
Hiruzen leaned back.
"That is not unusual."
"Not by itself," Danzo said. "But the mother is."
Silence stretched.
Hiruzen's gaze sharpened.
"Go on."
Danzo stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"The woman is Misaki."
A pause.
"That name should not exist outside records," Hiruzen said quietly.
"Yet it does."
Hiruzen's fingers tapped once against the desk.
"You are certain?"
"I do not deal in uncertainties."
Another silence.
"He had a child with her. Alive. In Kumogakure."
Hiruzen stood slowly.
"That should not be possible."
"Unlikely," Danzo corrected. "Not impossible."
Hiruzen turned toward the window.
"She should have returned."
"She did not."
"Mito would have known."
"Unless she chose not to."
That landed heavily.
Hiruzen exhaled slowly.
"Or she had a reason not to come back."
Danzo said nothing.
"If she knows…"
"Then the consequences extend beyond one village," Danzo said. "The Uzumaki name still carries weight. If certain truths surface…"
"We lose trust."
"We lose control."
The room went still.
Hiruzen turned back.
"What do you propose?"
"Observation first. Intervention if necessary."
"No."
Danzo's eye flickered slightly.
"No?"
"No unnecessary movements. Not yet. If we act too soon, we confirm suspicion."
A pause.
"Send a small team," Hiruzen added quietly. "Untraceable. I want information. Nothing more."
Danzo inclined his head.
"Understood."
He turned to leave.
"Danzo."
He stopped.
"If this is what you think it is…"
Danzo did not turn back.
"Then we should have acted sooner."
The door closed.
The room felt heavier.