Chapter Text
Kushina
*
Kushina Uzumaki hated leaving her village. The reasons were numerous including the ones that might seem obvious; leaving her friends and family, being unable to play in the rivers and whirlpools, the ramen, the wildlife that she had watched and grown up knowing, the ramen, the fact that her new village only wanted her to be a cage for a demon and, of course, the ramen in Uzushio was the best in the world.
But the other reason was one that no human being who hadn’t been born in Uzushio would understand.
Uzushio was alive.
The village was more than just the collection of buildings and people who resided there. It was the very land, sea and sky of Whirlpool and it had a heartbeat and a consciousness. There were tales told by the oldest residents of how, in times of strife, Uzushio had led people to safe places previously unknown to all the villagers. How they had protected their people by creating storms off their coast, intensifying their hard to navigate whirlpools and hiding their island, their home, from view.
Kushina knew Uzushio was alive because on nights when she couldn’t sleep her village, and the land, would sing to her. Strange songs telling her about the osprey chicks hatching, of golden and crimson sunsets from long ago, about the fox skulk that resided amongst the plum trees, of birds soaring and diving off Uzushio’s red cliffs, of people long ago who first lived on Uzushio, of Uzushio’s first children who had such strange names, of the ramen shop owner who would go out every morning and light an incense stick at the grave of his wife with his teenage son accompanying him on special dates.
She knew Uzushio was alive because sometimes there had been a voice leading her to secret caverns to play in, introducing her to the dolphins and turtles that swam beyond the kelp forests, telling her when the plums were ripe, when the best storms were coming, when the group from Konoha came and when it was agreed that Kushina would leave.
When she left Uzushio she cried, and she felt it cry for her too.
You are one of my children and this will always be your home.
*
Konoha was not alive, or at least not in the same way. The land and the village itself seemed duller to Kushina than Uzushio. She didn’t hate it, but it didn’t feel the same and it made her sad.
She missed listening to Uzushio in the middle of the night. She didn’t like the way the other children sniped at her because of her round face and red hair. She loved her hair.
It was the same red colour as the cliffs where the gulls nested in the spring and summer and raised their chicks. The same colour as the sands that surrounded her island and made it shine as if it were aflame. The same colour as the tiles on the rooftops of her beloved village. The same colour as some of the koi fish that swam in Uzushio’s pools. The same colour as some of the foxes that would sneak through the village at night and eat the left out inari. The same colour as the nine torii gates that led to the shrine at the highest point of Uzushio and the ones that were dotted around the island.
That boy in class had nice hair too. Golden and bright like the beam of sunlight that used to fall through one of the hidden caves of Uzushio and sparkle off the water creating light dances on the cave walls. That had been one of Kushina’s favourite places to play. The boy, Minato, wasn’t as fun as her cave but he did save her when she thought no one else would. And he loved his village, and maybe she could love him like she loved Uzushio. She thought Minato would love Uzushio too and she planned to take them back there one day, when she was old enough and strong enough and the elders of Konoha wouldn’t squawk and complain about the Jinchuuriki leaving Konoha.
Then, Uzushio fell. And Kushina felt it.
It made her chest ache and her skin crawled as if being covered with Aburame bugs. Later, the voice found her. It was a quivering whisper, borne on the winds that rushed from the oceans of her home, so fragile and almost broken and it made her throat tighten.
I am undone. My children fallen and my soul invaded. I couldn’t protect them, and I can’t protect you my brave child. But my whirlpools are here, my oceans, beaches, cliffs, soil and caverns. My self is in you, and you are a part of me.
Kushina wept and raged as Minato held her hand and they watched a red sky dawning over Konoha, a crimson sky rising from the east. Uzushio had bled into the sky.
*
The Third Hokage would later say that Minato Namikaze and Kushina Uzumaki died for Konoha. It wasn’t true. Kushina didn’t die for Konoha, she died for her husband and her child because although she cared for the Village Hidden in the Leaves, it did not love her like Uzushio did.
When she was dying, she felt a ghostly version of Uzushio again. The memory of ocean and salt-spray kissing her cheeks, the wind whipping her hair. Uzushio was crying with her. Uzushio had grown stronger since the fall and it reached out to her, one of its scattered children who cried out for home and their mother at the end.
“Naruto. You are an Uzumaki. You are a child of Uzushio.” Kushina whispered as she stared down at her wide-eyed baby who wailed at the burning in his stomach and soul. “Uzushio will look after you. You just need to listen to their breeze and their stories, and you will know your clan, their people and home as if I was here to love and guide you myself.”
Kushina. I hear you. My sweet child. You can rest. I am here for Naruto. He is mine as you are.
She felt Minato and Uzushio embracing her and all she wished for was to be back on those beaches, her child in her arms, her husband holding them both and Uzushio enfolded around them.
The morning after Kushina’s death came on quick heels, and the sun rose from the east once more. The sky above Konoha was not crimson despite the loss of lives but instead was golden and bright, celebrating the birth of Naruto.
Because Naruto Uzumaki was a child of Uzushio and they would celebrate and honour him even if Konoha did not.
*