Kushina fled southwest of Konoha, her steps unrelenting, her hair flying in the wind. Her destination was the Land of Rivers- a small, neutral nation nestled between larger powers. It's unremarkable; average trade, average power, not much else. A good place to lie low for a little while.
Along the way, she stopped at a few minor civilian villages in the Land of Fire, speaking to merchants and residents in hopes of finding a lead. But no one knew anything. It was a long shot to expect any information from people like this.
It was always her ultimate goal to rebuild the Uzumaki clan. Revenge against those who destroyed Uzushio burned in her chest like fire, but she knew vengeance could not be her life's only purpose. She longed for the days when the Uzumaki thrived, when every neighbor was family and betrayal was an absurd, foreign concept.
Logically, there had to be survivors. The Uzumaki bloodline was too strong to vanish completely. Some might have found shelter in distant villages or tiny nations far from the eyes of the Five Great Hidden Villages. Others… Kushina's fists clenched. Others could have been captured- locked away as breeding stock, experimented on in shadowy laboratories, or worse.
The thought made her blood boil, but she couldn't do anything without first gathering information. And gathering information on the Great Hidden Villages was next to impossible. Shinobi survived on their secrets; anti-spy measures would always be a top priority.
Without a network like Konoha's, she was effectively blind. For any Uzumaki who had escaped capture, finding them would be like chasing smoke. And if the Hidden Villages caught wind of them first, which would almost always be the case, then she'd arrive too late. Her only hope was the rumors and whispers from the black markets, passed along by men and women who traded information like gold.
Her search brought her here, a small, forgettable village. On the surface, it was no different from countless others scattered throughout the shinobi world. Dirt paths crisscrossed between unevenly built houses, the wood bleached by sun and rain. The smell of cooking fires lingered in the air, mingling with the faint odor of livestock. There were probably only 100 people living here at most.
If she didn't hide her hair beneath her hood, she would stand out instantly. The crimson of her hair was an announcement, and she had no interest in inviting questions.
But it wasn't what she could see that drew her here- it was what she could feel.
Beneath the soil, past the hollow footsteps of villagers above, she sensed it: a large gathering of people, their malice radiating like heat from an oven. The cluster was concentrated below several buildings. One in particular drew her attention- an unassuming trading post, likely serving merchants who traveled this route.
That would be the entrance.
Kushina stepped inside without hesitation.
The room was dim, lit by a single lantern. Behind a rough wooden counter stood a man in his thirties, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. The handful of others in the room carried themselves like former shinobi. Gruff, low-level fighters with calloused hands and equally hard hearts.
She wasn't scared. At most, they were genin or low-level chunin. She doubted there'd be more than one jonin out here, yet even they would be nothing to her.
"Is there something you need?" the guy behind the counter said.
She didn't slow her pace. "Information," she said flatly.
The man's gaze flicked to the Konoha forehead protector at her brow. Particularly, the line etched through the leaf emblem made his lips twitch slightly.
After a pause, he nodded toward a door. "In the back."
She walked to it without another word. Beyond was a bare room with a staircase leading down.
The underground market was a maze of interconnected rooms and low tunnels, the air heavy with dampness and the stink of unwashed bodies. Shadows clung to the corners. Mercenaries, bounty hunters, and rogue-nin loitered with the casual menace of predators at rest.
The moment she stepped into the main hall, she felt their attention shift toward her. Most were simply curious, their malice muted, but a few radiated darker intentions. Her age and her build were obvious- it was enough to attract the wrong kind of attention.
She ignored them. It wasn't like they could do anything to her anyway.
She found the informant she was looking for: a man seated at a desk tucked away from the crowd, his lean frame draped in a worn black cloak. His eyes were sharp, the kind that measured a person in an instant.
"What information do you seek?" He asked.
She didn't waste breath. "Have there been any sightings of people with bright red hair?"
His brows rose slightly. "Where?"
"Anywhere," she replied, bluntly.
The man hesitated. Normally, no one asked something so broad. It was expensive and time-consuming to dig through unfiltered rumors. But bright red hair… There was only one clan known for that.
Normally, he wouldn't keep information on people with abnormal hair colors, but the only people with bright red hair are the Uzumaki. That information was valuable.
"There have been sightings of a younger girl with red hair," he said finally.
Kushina's heart kicked in her chest. At last, she could start rebuilding her clan!
But her hope was shattered an instant later: "Information on her whereabouts costs two million ryō."
'Dammit,' Her mouth tightened. She had some money, but not even close to that much. And her savings were back in Konoha. She hadn't had enough time to retrieve them. Though not even that would be enough. She could work for it, but that would take time.
Which left only one path.
Most rogue-nin wouldn't dare attack an informant. Not only were many of them high-level shinobi, often jōnin, but they were usually specialized in espionage and stealth. Even if they couldn't beat someone in a straight fight, they could still run away. Not to mention, the attacker would be banned from every black market around, which would destroy a rogue nin's life.
But Kushina wasn't most rogues. She didn't intend to live this life for long, and she could take on a hundred jōnin if it came to it.
In one smooth movement, she seized the man by the throat, lifting him halfway out of his chair. "Tell me where she is."
"I-I won't tell you!" he choked, trying to pry her hand free. "Do you think you can get away with this?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Do you think any of you trash could stop me?"
That was enough to draw attention. Heads turned, eyes narrowing. The unspoken code of the market was being broken right in front of them. And while this gathering was far from noble, some rules couldn't be ignored, if only to protect their livelihood.
She could feel the malice spike like a sudden shift in the air. They would attack.
That was fine. One or one hundred of these wastes makes no difference to her.
In one smooth motion, she dropped the informant to the ground, binding him, while her scythe materialized from her back, in her hand with a glint of steel.
The first wave came fast. Kunai in the dark, followed by three men rushing her from the left. She sidestepped, the blade singing through the air, cutting the first attacker clean in half. She pivoted, catching the second across the chest, the third losing his head before his momentum carried him forward.
Shouts rang out, the close, damp air filling with the metallic tang of blood. More came, some with swords, others with jutsu already forming in their hands.
She moved through them like a storm, every swing of her scythe leaving another body on the floor. Some she cut down mid-strike; others never got close before her blade reached them.
"Shit- she's gotta be an elite jōnin! I can't handle this!" someone yelled, bolting for the exit.
The others wavered, glancing at one another. The ecosystem of the black market was important, but not more important than staying alive. One by one, they began to back away, vanishing into the tunnels.
And then, silence- save for the sound of blood dripping to the floor.
Kushina stood alone among the dead, her scythe resting lightly in her grip. At her feet, the informant stared up at her, his earlier arrogance burned away entirely.
"I-I'll speak, I'll speak!" he stammered.
Her lips curled in a small smirk. "That's more like it."
"She's… she's in the Land of Rivers. T-the exact location is in that folder over there," he gestured with his hand.
Kushina straightened, the words settling deep in her mind. This was where one of her clansmen was. The first clan member she would see since Grandma Mito.
----
Later that night, in the seal space, the world around them was cast in that endless twilight only Kushina and Kurama knew. The air was still, smelling faintly of Kurama's scent, and his tails swayed lazily behind him in his human form.
Kushina lay half-curled against his warm body, eyes half-lidded. Ever since she had escaped Konoha, the thought of sleeping alone made her restless. It was only here, pressed against him, that her chest stopped feeling so tight.
"You did well," Kurama rumbled, his deep voice vibrating through her body. "Not a flicker of hesitation."
"It wasn't exactly hard," she replied, voice flat but edged with satisfaction. "They were all trash. The lowest of the low. I almost feel insulted they thought they could even touch me."
His lips curled in a faint, knowing grin. "Perhaps. But still… you're improving. You're faster now, and more decisive. That's what matters."
She tilted her head to glance up at him. "You make it sound like killing is an art form."
"It is." His gaze sharpened, red eyes glowing faintly in the dim. "An art… and a necessity. Out there, a heartbeat's hesitation can be the difference between tearing your enemy apart and lying in your own blood. You're starting to understand that."
Kushina's mouth pressed into a thin line. "I've understood it since Uzushio fell."
Kurama's tails shifted, one curling protectively, possessively, around her waist. "No, you thought you did. You've carried the pain, yes, but that's not the same as instinct. Pain makes you want revenge. Instinct makes you survive. You're learning the second one now."
She frowned, "Is that all this is to you? Survival?"
"For now," he said, almost too casually. "If you want revenge, you first need to live long enough to see it. Every corpse you leave behind is one less threat in your path… and one more step toward the future you want."
His voice lowered, velvet-smooth but dangerous. "And when the day comes, when the ones truly responsible stand before you… you won't flinch, or hesitate. You'll end them."
Her heart beat faster at the thought. It felt good to hear him say it.
"And if I start liking it?" she asked, almost a whisper. "If I start liking the killing?"
Kurama's grin widened just slightly, teeth catching the dim light. "Then you'll finally understand what it means to be free. No guilt or doubt, just us… and the strength to take whatever we want from this world.
She didn't answer right away, just nestled closer against his body. His warmth was comforting, but his words stayed in her mind, sharpening her resolve with every breath she took.