Konoha, year 37
Kushina found herself walking through the village for the first time in what felt like ages. She hadn't done so since Uzushiogakure was destroyed. After the fall, the weight of the villagers' stares had been too much to bear. Their whispers, their pointed avoidance, their polite but distant smiles. Even now, as she moved through the sunlit streets of Konoha, she felt it. A thin, invisible pressure that coiled around her like a rope; mild fear, passive dislike, and a touch of suspicion.
Kurama's ability to sense negative emotions was becoming hers, slowly but surely. At first, she could only pick up on overwhelming malice, like a shout in a quiet room. But now, with enough concentration, she could sense the faint whispers of subtler emotions as well, like envy, unease, and greed.
Kurama's gift wasn't flashy like the Lava release of Son Goku or Shukaku's sand manipulation. It was subtler and more invasive. Far more useful. For combat, yes, but also for survival. For politics, spying, or seeing through people in a world full of masks.
Negative emotions were a constant in the human heart. Fear, anger, grief, envy, hatred. The trick was learning to read them like a map.
Being able to sense all of these gives you a massive advantage in life in general. No one can scheme against you without feeling at least some negative emotions; no one can attack you without feeling malice; and no one can manipulate you if they're radiating maliciousness. Of course, the last one works both ways; sensing fear or hatred can make manipulating someone easy.
Today, Kushina was using the village as her training ground. Every passerby was a target. She sifted through the haze of emotions that hung around people like perfume, trying to match what she felt to what she saw. The negative emotions radiating off the crowd, which she normally despises, make the perfect training tools for her to sense. Eventually, she'll be able to pick out spies or sense an attack before her enemy even makes a move.
That man over there: bitterness, directed downward. Probably thinking about his work.
That woman: envy, but not toward Kushina. Toward another woman nearby, maybe for her looks or her husband.
That boy: fear, and it was about her. His little hand tightened around his mother's sleeve as they passed, and his mother hurried him along without making eye contact.
'Tch. This stupid village hasn't changed at all,' she thought. Not that she'd expected it to.
Besides Kurama, there was only one person from whom she'd never sensed a hint of malice, Minato Namikaze.
'That idiot probably doesn't even have negative emotions,' she thought with a sigh. He was always smiling, always kind, always annoyingly sincere. It made him unreadable in a different way.
Everyone experiences some kind of fear, anger, or envy. Even Sakumo Hatake. The key, and what Kushina is currently trying to learn, is to sense where that emotion is directed. Not everyone in the crowd is scared of her; some are thinking of other people or phenomena, and this is what makes it perfect for practice.
Learning to distinguish between different types of negativity, and more importantly, where they were directed, was difficult. Just because someone radiated anger didn't mean it was toward her. But if she mastered this skill, she'd be untouchable. She could sniff out traitors, avoid traps, and manipulate people more effectively than any genjutsu ever could.
Suddenly, a wave of emotion hit her. Not just simple hatred or vague suspicion, but something deeper. Grief, despair, anxiety, sadness, and self-hatred, all coming from a single person. Kushina stopped in her tracks.
The crowd blurred around her. Her senses honed in on the source of that emotional hurricane, and her eyes locked onto a figure leaning against the side of a nearby building.
It was Tsunade!
Kushina's stomach twisted. The older woman looked… awful. Her skin, usually healthy and sun-kissed, was pale and clammy. Deep, dark bags hung under her eyes. Her once-shining blonde hair was disheveled and dull, like it hadn't been brushed in days. And her eyes, those bright and fierce brown eyes that had once held warmth and fire, were empty.
It reminded Kushina of herself after the destruction of Uzushio.
They hadn't spoken in years. After she and Nawaki parted on sour terms, her visits to the Senju compound had stopped. But before that, Tsunade had been like a big sister to her. A comforting presence in a foreign village, a role model when Kushina needed one.
She hesitated for a moment and then approached. Although they hadn't spoken in a few years, Kushina doesn't blame Tsunade, but that old bastard Hiruzen.
Tsunade looked up, sluggish at first, but recognition flickered in her eyes. "Kushina?" her voice rasped, raw like she hadn't spoken to anyone in days.
She nodded slightly and said, "How are you?"
The question was simple. But it cracked something in Tsunade. She surged forward and wrapped her arms around Kushina, bursting into tears. "Not good," she sobbed.
Kushina blinked, startled. She wasn't used to people crying on her. She awkwardly hugged her back, patting her gently between the shoulder blades. "What happened?"
Tsunade stepped back, her shoulders heaving. She tried to speak, but the words came out in broken gasps. "It's N-Nawaki…" she sniffled, and then burst into sobs again. "He d-died. Stepped on an explosive tag."
Kushina's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't spoken to Nawaki in a long time. They'd parted on poor terms, but that didn't erase the years they'd spent under the same roof, or the times he'd made her laugh when she felt like crying. She could only imagine what it felt like to Tsunade.
"I-I couldn't even recognize his body," Tsunade continued, eyes wild with grief. "They had to tell me it was him. My stupid little brother..."
"I told that idiot to be careful," Tsunade said, wiping her face with trembling fingers. "I warned him. And he goes and-goes and-" She broke again, voice muffled by the sleeve she pressed to her face. "Dan's gone too. I have no one left."
Kushina stared at her. She had no idea what to say. She hesitated, then quietly asked, "What about your teammates? Jiraiya... or Orochimaru?"
"They don't get it," Tsunade said bitterly. "Jiraiya's a fool. He means well, but he's not someone I can lean on. And Orochimaru- he's too cold. He's not the kind of person that you could talk to about this."
Kushina hesitated again. Then, she said, "I'm… still here."
Tsunade blinked.
"I know we haven't talked in years," Kushina continued, voice soft. "But you were like a big sister to me. Back when I was new to the village."
For a moment, Tsunade just stared at her.
Then she broke into another sob and hugged her again, tighter this time. "Thank you," she whispered.
Kushina closed her eyes. Her throat was tight. Bittersweet emotions once again tangled inside her like vines. She was glad she could offer comfort… but how many people would she eventually have to leave behind?
Once Tsunade calmed down somewhat, Kushina led her to a shaded bench near a quiet tea stall. They sat, nursing warm cups of herbal brew, the silence between them heavy but companionable.
After a while, Kushina asked, "When did you come back to the village?"
Tsunade sniffed. "Three days ago. I was in Amegakure… on the border. We fought Hanzo. Nawaki d-died just before I left."
"Hanzo of the Salamander…" Kushina murmured. "They say he's as strong as one of the Five Kages."
"He is," Tsunade said, her voice tired. "But what's strength good for when you can't protect the people who matter?"
Kushina looked at her cup, the tea rippling faintly from the trembling in Tsunade's hands.
"I know how it feels," she said softly. "To lose everyone. Uzushio fell. My parents are gone. My clan… There's nothing left of it but me- and a few other people scattered across the world."
Tsunade looked at her. They were similar in many ways- both without a family, both with a nearly extinct clan.
"Konoha just moved on," Kushina admitted, bitterly. "Like it didn't matter."
Tsunade gave a quiet, bitter laugh. "Yeah. I get that."
Silence settled again, not awkward, but somber. It was the kind of silence that only came between people who had experienced the same tragedies.
Finally, Tsunade said, "You've changed."
"I found someone to help me," Kushina said, looking away. "I probably would've broken without him."
"Him?" Tsunade asked with a coy smile.
"Yeah..." Kushina said, with cheeks lightly dusted pink.
Tsunade sighed dramatically and said, "Little Kushina, already so grown up and with a boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend!" She responded, flustered.
Tsunade chuckled, feeling a little lighter.
They continued to talk for a few hours.
Kushina knew this wouldn't fix Tsunade. Grief didn't go away so easily. But hopefully it gave her a reason not to drown in it.