The evening sky turned crimson as Kushina walked through the silent forest, far from the chaos of Kirigakure and the bloody mist that had almost exposed her disguise.
Now, back in her favorite green kimono with her red hair left loose, she was herself again—Uzumaki Kushina, no longer the "mysterious young man" infiltrating enemy territory.
A gentle breeze swept through, making the leaves above her dance as she strolled calmly along the path lined with tall trees.
But her steps halted when a young boy emerged from the shadows. He looked around five or six years old, with white hair and cold, empty eyes—like a living doll.
Kushina recognized him instantly. Kimimaro.
The boy who—if history had followed its course—would have become Orochimaru's most formidable bodyguard.
Kimimaro stared at her without expression. "Who are you? Why are you here?"
Kushina narrowed her eyes, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. Rather than answer, she glanced toward the right side of the woods and spoke casually, her tone dripping with dry sarcasm.
"Ah, instead of answering that… I care more about one thing. Orochimaru-senpai, why don't you just come out? Eavesdropping behind trees while children speak is hardly gentlemanly, you know."
Silence.
Then, a soft laugh echoed through the trees—cold, sly, drawn out.
"Haha… you really are Kushina," a smooth yet poisonous voice slithered through the air. "You sensed me that quickly… as sharp as ever."
From behind a large tree, Orochimaru stepped out. His long black hair swayed in the evening breeze.
"I didn't expect you to escape Kirigakure's ANBU pursuit that quickly," he continued with a small smirk. "And seeing how relaxed you are now… I assume your disguise is still intact."
Kushina crossed her arms, pouting.
"And you!" she snapped, sounding like a mother scolding a mischievous child. "You deliberately used that nickname to throw me off, didn't you?! Because of you, I almost got caught!"
Orochimaru chuckled, his shoulders rising and falling lightly as if watching an amusing play.
"I was merely… testing your reflexes," he said nonchalantly. "And you passed, as always. A little entertainment for a dull day."
Kushina clicked her tongue and turned away, clearly done with the conversation.
"Crazy snake," she muttered, puffing her cheeks like an annoyed child.
Kimimaro watched the exchange with faint confusion, unsure how to respond to such an odd interaction.
As Kushina's steps faded into the distance, Orochimaru glanced at Kimimaro.
"Watch her carefully, Kimimaro. That woman… is a power even the shinobi system cannot explain."
Kimimaro nodded slowly, still digesting the weight of those words.
One Day from Konoha — A Quiet Night at the Inn
Kushina walked with a lighter pace now. The mission was over. The intel she gathered was enough: the stirrings of rebellion from Zabuza, Orochimaru's movements, and the sudden demise of the Kaguya clan.
She knew it would shake the walls of the Sandaime's war council.
And with three days left before her students' break ended, there was no reason to rush back to the village.
She arrived at a small town near the border—a quiet town full of craftsmen and merchants, not shinobi.
A traditional-style inn caught her eye. Red lanterns swayed by the entrance, and the scent of fresh fish soup drifted from the kitchen.
Kushina rented a small room on the second floor. After bathing and changing, she sat by the open window, watching the stars begin to appear in the evening sky.
On the small table, a cup of steaming tea waited. She picked it up and sipped slowly.
"Well… at least tonight is peaceful," she murmured.
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The night sky hung peacefully over the quiet town. Moonlight seeped in through the open wooden window, casting the traditional-style inn room in a bluish hue. An oil lantern glowed softly in the corner, throwing gentle shadows over the wooden walls and clean tatami floor.
Kushina sat cross-legged on her futon, her light green yukata draped loosely over her body. Her red hair was down, still damp from the hot bath. A thin veil of steam clung to her pale skin, especially around her exposed shoulders.
The tea in her hand had gone cold, now only half full.
She stared at her reflection in a small mirror leaning against the wall. That beautiful face, those sharp eyes, smooth cheeks, the long neck, and the faint cleavage peeking beneath thin cloth… all hers.
She exhaled deeply and set the cup down. Her hand rose to touch her own cheek… then drifted down to her neck, feeling the calm yet steady pulse beneath her skin.
Her fingers slid along her collarbone, then slowly loosened the yukata at her chest, exposing more of her body to the quiet night air.
She leaned back against the wall, one knee bent, letting the robe fall open. Her breasts rose and fell softly with her breath, barely touched by moonlight.
Hesitantly, her hand reached to her left breast—softly. Her fingers grazed the outer curve, cupping the warmth of her own skin. A soft gasp escaped her lips—unintended.
'So soft… like a whisper of lightning across my skin… so alive…'
Her fingers circled the slowly hardening nipple, causing her body to arch slightly. She closed her eyes and let the sensation flood her mind. Her breath shortened.
One hand explored her breast, the other drifted to her belly—warm, tender, trembling slightly.
Her hand slid past her navel, down between her thighs. She held her breath.
The first touch made her body twitch. A spark. Damp.
"Ah…"
She froze. Her hand stayed where it was—motionless, just feeling.
"…I'm… really this wet?"
Doubt turned to desire. Her fingers began to move, gently at first, exploring softly, discovering a rhythm her body didn't know it had longed for. She leaned back fully on the futon, letting the yukata fall away. Her body now lay bare beneath the moon.
A quiet moan escaped her.
"Ah… ahh…"
Her hips moved with the motion of her hand. The rhythm grew. Bolder strokes, deeper circles. Her free hand gripped her breast now, harder. She pinched the nipple softly, teasing herself into a curve of arousal.
"Ugh… yes… there… just like that…"
"Ahh…"
Her body writhed with each perfect touch. She closed her eyes, letting her imagination wander…
Her breath caught as her finger reached her clit—warm, trembling, alive. She held still, letting her body catch up to the sensation rushing from that tiny center.
Then she began to circle it—softly, precisely, like writing a letter on her own skin. The response was instant: her hips lifted slightly, back arching in surrender.
"Ohhh… slower…"
One hand worked her breast, the other chased pleasure. She didn't notice how fast she was moving—her body knew.
Each motion of her fingers made her breath hitch. Her legs trembled, knees bent and spreading wider. She moaned deeply and closed her eyes as her body climbed toward a height she hadn't known she needed.
"Ah—ah… I'm… I'm—"
"… I'm gonna—"
Her whole body tensed, then…
Her first orgasm struck like a summer storm—fast, hot, unexpected. She clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to silence the long moan surging from her throat.
Her body collapsed onto the futon, chest heaving. Her hand between her thighs trembled, still wet from the most intimate moment she'd given herself.
But something still pulsed within her.
Still alive.Still wanting.
"…Not enough."
The breath left her lips like a whisper—not of disappointment, but need. Her body—this body—wasn't ready to stop.
She touched again. This time, not with softness, but boldness. She spread her thighs wider, letting her fingers dip deeper—testing, entering, touching the slick heat that welcomed her push.
A sound slipped from her lips. Low. Heavy.
"Oh god… this is insane… I'm insane…"
But she didn't stop. She pressed in deeper—then rubbed her clit with her thumb, creating a double rhythm that sent shockwaves through her. Her belly tightened, thighs trembled, her arm nearly gave out.
"Ugh… yes… right there…"
"AH—ngghh—KAMI…AAAAH!"
The second orgasm rose like a towering wave. Slow, crushing, consuming. Her body spasmed gently, her jaw slack, a raw moan spilling forth unchecked. This time, she didn't muffle it.
Let the world hear.
Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. Her fingers shook, coated in evidence of her release. Her cheeks flushed, red hair clung to her face and neck.
She lay there.
Calm.
And strangely… at peace.
The yukata had fallen completely aside, revealing her full nude form to the quiet night.
Several minutes passed before she could breathe normally again. Slowly, she sat up, pulled the robe back over her trembling shoulders, and hugged her knees to her chest.
Her hands still trembled. She touched her own lips, then smiled faintly.