When I opened the front gate, the smell of tea immediately hit me.
I paused, squinting through the sunlight spilling across the courtyard.
My mother's soft laughter carried from the living room. And… Kushina.
They were seated across from each other, cups in hand, steam curling between them. My mother looked relaxed, hair pinned neatly as always. Kushina's fiery red hair caught the light, and her smile… warm, easy, but still impossible not to notice.
I froze for a heartbeat—not because I was surprised, but because my mind immediately went into overdrive: Is this about last time? Did she interrogate my mother because of me? Does she suspect something about the Uchiha?
"Ah! Kuroha-chan!" My mother's voice called. She looked up, eyes bright. "You're home early! Sit, sit! Kushina, you remember Kuroha, right?"
Kushina waved lightly, her smile soft but inquisitive. "Of course I do. The little Uchiha who gives her mother headaches."
I stifled a smirk. The exaggeration was… accurate.
"Tea?" my mother offered, sliding a cup toward me. "Yes, thank you," I answered, keeping my tone polite but careful.
Kushina leaned back slightly, studying me with an ease that didn't feel prying—but it was, in its own way. "I heard from your mother you've been training hard," she said casually, almost like mentioning the weather. "Lightning Release… body conditioning… and I remember you mentioning fuinjutsu."
"Maybe sometime you could show me?" Kushina continued, her voice easy, teasing, but not pressing. "I'm not the best, of course but no one handles sealing quite like the Uzumaki."
I tilted my head, caught between curiosity and caution. "Uh… maybe. I mean, if you have the time."
Her eyes twinkled, amused, quietly observing, letting me choose what to reveal. I swallowed and nodded, still on guard, still painfully aware of my own guilt. Every time I saw Kushina, I felt it—like a weight pressing down, reminding me how fragile and temporary this world was, how easily everything could break. I could only relax slightly, not fully.
The rest of the afternoon passed with subtle chatter, tea refills, and the occasional anecdote about my mother's younger days in the Academy with Kushina. Peaceful, almost normal—but the quiet tension in my chest never fully left. It really hurts to see a person who will die soon being so kind.
Three days later, the day had arrived. My birthday. Seven.
I woke to the faint smell of pancakes – carefully arranged, not too sweet, not too soft. My mother had left an encouraging note on the table: "Train hard, but don't burn the house down."
The courtyard outside was decorated in simple streamers, and my father had prepared a small cake.
"You're getting older," my father said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "Seven already. Practically a real Uchiha now."
The rest of the day passed with quiet celebration: cake, a few small gifts, and laughter that didn't carry the weight of doom or expectation. For a moment, I could forget the world outside.
Mira appeared briefly, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed. "Hmph. Seven, huh? Don't think this means you get to slack off."
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, unwrapping a small scroll he had given me. "Happy now?"
He huffed, clearly satisfied with himself.
I smirked, hiding a laugh behind my hand. Even Mira's tsundere version of affection felt comforting.
For a moment, sipping my tea and staring at the soft sunlight filtering through the window, I allowed myself a tiny flicker of calm—just enough to almost forget that everything outside these walls was fragile, temporary, and potentially fatal.