The Land of Whirlpools was a small island off the eastern coast of the Land of Fire.
It was still beautiful, even in ruin. The sea stretched endlessly in every direction, a gleaming mirror of blues and silvers beneath the sun. Magnificent beaches framed the shoreline, and inland, lush forests sprawled with rivers cutting through them like veins. It was a land that seemed blessed by nature, a paradise where life thrived without effort.
Even the ruined cities couldn't strip it of its beauty. Stone skeletons of once-proud buildings jutted from the earth, half-swallowed by greenery. The scars of fire, war, and collapse were everywhere, yet somehow, the Land of Whirlpools still breathed.
Kushina's chest ached as she took it all in.
This was her homeland. For a long time, this was the source of her hope and joy, but now it was reduced to rubble. It was a wound that had never healed, one that reopened the moment she set foot here again. She wanted to cry, to scream, to demand why the other villages would go this far. But she already knew the answer, and she'll do the same thing to them.
At least… there was still hope for the Uzumaki themselves. It was never truly the land, Uzushiogakure, she was attached to, the Uzumaki clan itself. At least there's still hope for that.
She closed her eyes, steadying her breath. 'The Uzumaki name will live again. I'll make sure of it.'
It had taken her only a couple of days to arrive. With her chakra control and monstrous reserves, sprinting across the ocean was almost routine. The salt wind stung her eyes, but her determination carried her forward.
"So, this is where you grew up."
The voice came from beside her. Deep, smooth, carrying that mix of amusement and weight that always seemed to follow him.
Kurama walked at her side in his human form. He could do this whenever he pleased- though it wasn't like being truly released from the seal, but rather a projection of consciousness and chakra. He had refrained previously because he didn't want to draw attention to their base. However, now it would only work in their favor if the other villages thought they were hidden in the ruins of Uzushio.
"For my first six years," she answered quietly. Melancholy threaded her words. "After that, I was moved to Konoha."
Her sandals crunched over broken stone and shattered tiles as she stepped further inland. The path that had once led to her family's home was overgrown, weeds sprouting through cracked brick. Collapsed houses lay in heaps of scorched wood and faded paper walls, some reduced to nothing but skeletal frames. The air smelled faintly of salt and mildew.
Kushina slowed her steps, letting her fingers trail across the side of a ruined wall. "I remember running through here… barefoot, with the other children. We'd splash water from the canals at each other and race until our legs gave out. Mother would scold me for dirtying my clothes, but she'd be smiling anyway." Her voice trembled on the last word.
Kurama didn't speak. His crimson eyes followed her carefully, and though he looked impassive, his silence was a kind of respect.
They turned a corner and came to what must have once been a marketplace. Stalls sat broken and hollow, long abandoned. An old sign with the Uzumaki spiral still clung to its frame, faded but proud. Kushina stopped before it, staring with wide eyes.
"My uncle used to run a stall here… he'd make these rice cakes with honey." She gave a small laugh. "They weren't very good- burnt on the bottom every time. But he always insisted I eat the biggest one." Her laughter faltered, thinning into silence. "I heard that he died early on in the invasion."
Her voice grew tighter with each word, low and edged with anger. "Konoha, Kumo, Iwa… all of them. They didn't even hesitate. To them, we were just… inconvenient. Too strong and dangerous, with techniques they coveted."
Kurama stayed silent, watching her, his crimson eyes held a hint of approval.
Kushina stepped away from the sign, her fists clenched. "If this had been their villages, they'd call it tragedy. A world-shaking disaster. But because it was Uzushio, it's just… forgotten rubble."
She let out a breath and shook her head. "I hate them for it. Every single one of them."
Kurama finally spoke, voice low and steady. "Good. Hate keeps your fire burning."
"I'll make them know this same pain, dattebane." She spoke with quiet resolve.
She shook her head. Now wasn't the time for nostalgia or dawdling.
"The shrine we're looking for is in the mountains." She pointed to a forested peak in the distance. "It shouldn't take more than a few hours to- Eeep!"
Her words ended in a startled squeal as Kurama scooped her into a princess carry.
"H-Hey! What are you-!"
Kurama grinned down at her, sharp and playful. "We'll get there faster this way."
Before she could wriggle free, he launched off the ground. The earth cracked beneath his feet, and the world blurred into streaks of green and blue. Wind tore past them, whipping Kushina's hair into a red banner behind her.
Her stomach lurched, and her ears popped. The speed was monstrous.
"Put me down! Put me down, you stupid fox!" she shrieked, clutching at his chest.
Her screams vanished into the rushing wind.
Kurama only laughed, the sound rumbling against her cheek.
'So this is what Nagato and the others felt…' she thought, her face pale as the horizon whipped by.
----
In no time, they landed before the shrine.
Kurama had nearly unmatched strength and speed- even the Third Raikage would fall short. That's just his raw physical ability as a tailed beast. He couldn't properly exercise his speed before, but now that all that power was condensed into a more agile form, it was immense.
Kurama set her down gently, though she stumbled, dizziness spinning her vision.
She swayed, then jabbed a finger at him. "Never- never do that again!"
He chuckled, a low, amused rumble. "Maybe if you stop being so slow."
Her cheeks puffed in indignation. "Shut up! One day, I'll be faster than you! Then I'll give you a taste of your own medicine, dattebane!"
He raised a brow, smirking. "We'll see. Try not to trip over yourself first."
The shrine loomed before them. Despite years of neglect, it stood firm, dark wood streaked with red paint and the Uzumaki spiral carved proudly above the entrance.
Inside, the air was musty but still sacred. The main hall stretched wide, dust motes dancing in faint beams of sunlight. At its center, stairs led up to an altar.
Kushina ran her fingers along the cabinets, searching. She had been told of this place as a child. Some secrets were only passed down to those with the strongest bloodline. That was part of the reason why she was chosen as the next Jinchuriki.
Click.
"Aha! I found it," she exclaimed.
The altar shifted with a groan, inverting to reveal a staircase leading downward.
Both moved to enter, but as Kurama placed a foot on the steps, his advance stopped cold. An invisible force pressed against him, immovable.
Kushina blinked. "A barrier… it must block anyone without Uzumaki blood."
"Tch. Typical of your clan." His tone was half-annoyed, half-admiring.
Descending, she entered a chamber lit by faint glowing seals along the stone. Scrolls lined the shelves, chests sat sealed with waxed markings, and even weapons gleamed faintly in their racks.
Her breath caught. Relief and pride swelled inside her chest. She had been sure that this place remained hidden and untouched, but seeing everything inside still took a weight off her shoulders.
Without hesitation, she began sealing everything into her storage scrolls. Each inscription, each relic, each text of her clan's legacy now belonged to her.
Above, Kurama leaned against the barrier, arms folded. "You look like a kit stuffing her cheeks with food."
She shot him a look. "This is my inheritance. The core of the Uzumaki."
For a moment, he said nothing. Then, softly: "Good. Take back what was stolen from you."
Kushina blinked. He rarely spoke so earnestly. It almost startled her.
But before she could comment, he moved on.
The Noh Mask hall was next.
Rows of eerie masks stared blankly from their pedestals. Hollow eyes. Twisted expressions. Twenty-seven in all, untouched by looters.
"The Shinigami masks…" Kushina whispered.
Kurama examined them with curiosity. "What's their purpose?"
"There was a jutsu-" She hesitated, lowering her voice. "A forbidden one. It was said to summon the Shinigami itself. But I don't think it's been used in centuries."
Kurama frowned. "Even I don't know of such a thing. Hmph. Your clan truly dabbled in everything."
She smirked faintly. "We were pretty amazing, weren't we?"
"…Annoying, more like," he mumbled, though without bite.
They gathered the masks carefully, sealing them away with the rest.
When they finally emerged, the sky had begun to darken. From the shrine's height, most of Uzushiogakure sprawled before them. Ruins scattered across the land.
Kushina's chest tightened. Memories clawed at her: laughter of family, the warmth of festivals, the proud teachings of her elders. All of it was gone.
But before despair could drown her, a weight settled gently on her back.
Kurama's hand. Warm and solid.
She glanced at him, startled.
He didn't look at her, his gaze fixed on the horizon. His expression was unreadable, but his touch lingered, grounding her.
"…You've changed," she whispered.
He arched a brow. "What?"
"Before… you never would've said those things. Or done this." She gestured faintly at his hand. "You've been… different, since Madara."
He snorted, finally withdrawing his touch. "Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not sentimental. I just don't like seeing my jinchūriki moping around like a lost child."
Kushina smiled softly, seeing through the bluster. "If you say so."
For once, he didn't argue further.
They stood together in silence, watching the wind move through the ruins of a lost home.