The village was changing. Not fast, not perfectly—but steadily.
The reconstruction of the southern district was ahead of schedule. The new academy curriculum—more emphasis on chakra control, less on blind memorization—had finally been approved. Even the Uchiha… the tension that once clung to every conversation had begun to ease. Meetings still included stiff shoulders and old resentments, but there was dialogue now. Cooperation.
But nothing mattered as much as the sound of my front door sliding open and Kushina humming to herself—a warm, steady rhythm that filled the silence of our home.
She appeared with a tray of tea, balancing it over the gentle swell of her stomach. I stood immediately, taking it from her hands.
"You should let me carry things," I murmured, kissing her forehead.
"I can still do this much, You 'know." she said, smiling, though tiredness softened her eyes.
I guided her to the cushions. "Of course you can."
She laughed, leaning against my arm—but the laugh faded sooner than usual. Something troubled her. She hesitated, then said quietly:
"Minato… something Kuroha recently said was strange and I can't get it out of my head."
My attention sharpened immediately. "What happened?"
Kushina toyed with the edge of her sleeve. "She asked… very specifically… whether the Kyūbi's containment weakens during childbirth."
My heart stilled for a beat.
"That's not something a seven-year-old should be thinking about," I said, far too calmly.
"I know." Kushina swallowed. "And she looked so afraid, Minato. Not nervous—afraid. Of me getting hurt."
My jaw tightened. This was about Kushina's life.
I stood. "I'm going to speak with her."
Kushina touched my hand. "Be gentle. She wasn't malicious."
"I won't be cruel," I said.
"But if it concerns your safety, I won't compromise."
Kuroha was easy to find—she always trained in the same clearing.
Today was no exception.
The girl was panting, sweat dripping down her temples, chakra flickering unevenly around her limbs. Kuroha looked like she was barely standing – What in the world is driving this child like this?
"Kuroha," I called.
She startled and instantly tried to hide her exhaustion, straightening her back, forcing a little half-grin.
"Fourth Hokage! To what do I owe the honour?"
Kuroha," I said gently, "you look exhausted."
She froze for half a second, then tilted her head, mustering that practiced, oddly mature sarcasm.
"Funny. I thought I looked great today."
"I see – Kushina told me about your question."
Her smile froze.
"You asked about the Kyūbi weakening during childbirth."
A beat. A flicker of panic in her eyes—buried fast, but not fast enough.
"I just—thought it was important?" she tried, but the upward lilt at the end wasn't confidence. It was someone hoping the topic would be dropped.
I didn't drop it.
"Kuroha," I said, tone firm, "this isn't something someone says without reason. So I'll ask plainly."
Silence filled the room like rising water.
"Is someone planning to harm Kushina?"
She went still.
She hesitated—fingers curling slightly, as if gripping something invisible.
Then, in the smallest voice I'd ever heard from her: "…Yes."
"Who?" I asked.
"I-I don't know their name," she answered quickly, almost tripping over the words. "I just know someone will try."
I know she wants this conversation to end but I needed one answer above all.
"Kuroha… is it someone from the Uchiha clan?"
Her head snapped up.
"No!"
Too fast. Too fierce.
Then again, softer, trembling: "No. Not them. Not anyone in this village."
I studied her, noting the tight coil of tension in her posture, the uneven chakra, her expression. She isn't bluffing. She isn't imagining this. At the very least she thinks what she says is true.
I crouched slightly to meet her eyes. "Kuroha… how do you know this?"
Kuroha's fingers twitched at her sides, her gaze darting to the ground. She wanted the conversation to be over that much was clear.
"I… I don't know how to explain it," she said finally, voice small but steady. "I just… felt it. That's all."
I clenched my jaw, my mind racing. T&I? Should I act? Force her to report? But Kushina… she cares for this child, so dragging her anywhere harsh wouldn't be what she wants. In addition, the Uchiha wouldn't allow it. I'd just started easing the old tensions; any heavy-handed action now would undo months of progress.
"I will look into it, so you don't have to worry anymore, Kuroha."
Her posture softened. Relief washed over her features, and for the first time since this conversation began, she let herself smile—a bright, genuine smile that lit her eyes. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. A small laugh escaped her lips, unburdened, and I saw hope flicker there, fragile but undeniable.
She straightened, gave a small nod and turned to leave the clearing, her steps more relaxed, than before.
Alone, I allowed my mind to wander through the possibilities. Does she truly know what she claims? Or is this the intuition of a child stretched too far? I didn't have an answer, but I couldn't dismiss her warning either.
I straightened, letting a quiet resolve settle over me. Better safe than sorry. I'll prepare for whatever comes. I still have a month or two left before the baby's birth.