Into the Fire- Chapter 3

Chapter 3- The Uzumaki Princess

I observed the enemy with a wary eye, waiting as if it would strike at any moment. Though I knew in my mind that there really was no fight here, I would not lose my focus. I crept from my hiding spot toward the enemy, and gathered chakra to release at a moment's notice. Finally, when the opportunity showed itself and it seemed that the enemy was distracted, I yelled, "Water style: Giant Vortex Jutsu!"

The water in the river beside me rushed forward in a great funnel of spinning madness, towards the dummy that was perched on top of the wooden stump. The dummy was flung backwards by the powerful vortex, but I didn't stop there. I followed it by creating two more vortexes and using taijutsu on the stump as if the dummy were still there. When I was finished, I was panting and felt about half drained of chakra. I looked at the mutilated dummy where it lay on the ground of the training field, and I'd like to have thought that- if this had been a real battle- I would have won. Kami knows I trained enough. But it seemed like I could train harder and harder on a dummy, but it would never measure even a fraction of the experience I could gain if I were to have a live opponent. I was far past the level where basic exercises could help me, so I was left to learning new jutsu and attempting new chakra affiliations. So far, I had succeeded in only water and wind style though, which is how I had mastered the vortex jutsus: a combination of a tornado style wind and a current of water. Unfortunately, I had failed at my attempts at using fire style, lightning style, or earth style jutsus. I had conceded a few months ago that maybe two chakra affiliations were my limit: maybe I was only strong enough to master wind and water. But I knew that one day I would try other jutsus again. This was not the end of my failed trials, I knew, but it was a temporary delay in the process.

As my panting ceased, I realized that my entire body was drenched in sweat from the hot sun. It was November, but the winters came late in the whirlpool village since we lived on the coast. The sky was a clear, beautiful blue and the sun hung straight above me in the sky, telling me it was nearing noon. That meant, unfortunately, that my training was done for the day. As much as I hated to stop the one thing that kept me going, I knew that this was what it would take to continue my training. I had been doing so, secretly, for the past five years, so it seemed a waste to get caught now.

Shedding the outer layers of my ninja gear, I began to rinse myself off in the river. When I was clean again and I had tied my long hair up in a neat bun, I put the first layer of my kimono on over the tighter layers of my ninja gear. It took off the shirt, shorts, and fishnets beneath my kimono, adding the other layers on top before I tied the large strip of cloth around my ribcage to hold the entire ensemble together. When I was successfully changed, I washed the damp clothing off in the river with a bar of soap. After my clothes were thoroughly cleaned, I hung them up in a tree to dry. I walked down the trunk of the tree, able to focus chakra in my feet since I was not yet wearing my uncomfortable platform shoes. Sometimes, I used those to practice chakra control, seeing as it was practically impossible to focus on walking on water when I was already focused on not tripping in the uncomfortable shoes. When I was as suitable as I could manage, I ran out of the hidden training field that I had found in the forest so long ago.

It seemed like just yesterday that I had found this place, as it had seemed to be the answer to all my problems—besides etiquette and dance classes of course. After I had been removed from all ninja classes, I had been forced to take other classes: all some form of etiquette or dance classes. It was sickening what I had had to endure up until this year: so many formal tea parties and banquets, recitals, poetry recitations… I shuttered just thinking about it now, not wanting to relive another moment of those five painful years. Graduating from Lady Imiko's class was the greatest accomplishment of my short sixteen years—not because of the overwhelming effort it took to be a proper young lady, but because I was finally freed from the imprisonment that was formal etiquette. If failing in my attempts to be the first Uzumaki kunoichi and amazing ninja, losing my brother, and having the greatest monument of my family destroyed hadn't been enough, being forced into etiquette classes was the bitter icing on the dry, tasteless cake that had become my life. As a twelve year old tomboy who was being forced to dance and act like a girl, it had seemed like the world was officially ending. And if even that wasn't enough, all my ninja clothes had been taken away, replaced with frilly kimonos, ridiculous dresses, and uncomfortable shoes. That had been the last straw that had finally led me to run away, when I came home from my first dance class to find my closet raided. It was on my attempt to run away that I had found the abandoned training field in the center of the forest. It was exactly what I needed—a hidden escape that could allow me to do what I loved in secret. This was how, everyday from 6 to 11 am I was able to do my training. Father left the house at five, returning for tea at noon. Mother rarely asked of me besides checking on the status of my classes. Now that I had graduated etiquette school though, I had much more free time, and I avoided talking to my mother in detail whenever the chance presented itself.

As I walked through the forest towards the village and looked up at the blue sky, I thought about the past five years and what they had meant for me. Classes had been practically torture, and I had been forced to act like the heiress I was. When I was younger, I had been able to keep my hair cut short and always dress in shorts because I was training to be a ninja. All of that had been accepted as long as I had reason to act that way. When they had taken that life away from me, I had had to change as well. With the torturous classes, I had been forced to carry myself straight at all times. The heiress to the Uzumaki clan was expected to have immaculate posture. Suddenly, I wasn't being served sweet teas and cakes at tea and instead had to serve the men in my clan at tea time before settling on an herbal tea for myself. You're not a child anymore, Kushina…I had been told after begging for something sweet. But I was still a child whether or not they forced me to be otherwise. Amidst all the negativity, however, one good thing at come from this: I had made my first best friend. It's amazing how difficult situations can bring two people together, which is how I suddenly found myself inseparable from Keiko Uzumaki.

It had started four years ago, right after I had found the abandoned training field. I had realized that, while I had found a place to train, this was worthless as long as my training gear was so severely lacking. I had snuck into Keiko's room through her window, waiting until she returned from her most recent mission. When she saw me, she nearly had a heart attack and almost screamed for help. Covering up her mouth, though, I explained quickly why I was there: I needed to raid her closet.

When she had realized I had been asking for help from her, she blinked in confusion. I tried to explain it again, but she interrupted me by throwing various articles of ninja attire at me. Luckily, we had been about the same size. When I thanked her and said goodbye to my long-standing rival, she had stopped me at the window and asked for one favor. She had said that, since she had helped me, I had to answer one question in return: Why hadn't I revealed her future kunoichi status to my father? With one leg hanging out the window, I told her the truth. I told her that, just because my dreams had been crushed to nothing more than dust, didn't mean her dreams had to be taken away too. Because of that, she said she would be eternally grateful to me.

Now, we met up whenever we had the chance to talk about her most recent ninja adventures, which had gotten much more exciting since she had become a chunin. She always asked how my "training" was going to be polite, but we never stayed on that subject for too long. Through Keiko, I had acquired the fishnets, padding, black shorts, and black shirt which I wore for training every day. The jacket however- the black and orange one that I wore even on the hottest of days- had been Kazuo's. I had stolen it from his room before they burned all of his things, and kept it hidden in the training field at all times. It was all I had left of him in my life, considering that no one was willing to mention him, and I couldn't bring myself to visit the great whirlpool memorial or eat a bowl of ramen without breaking into hysterics.

I tried as well as I could not to think about things like the memorial or steaming bowls of ramen. I had been dutifully avoiding things like that for five years, ever since Kazuo had left me. It wasn't hard to avoid mentioning my lost brother, though—not when the very mention of his name was forbidden within my home. It was sickening seeing how easily my family seemed to be able to completely erase a life from their own lives. Though I tried to forget my brother, I knew I couldn't let myself—not when everyone else seemed to forget him so easily. If I forgot Kazuo, then the only memory of him left in my life would be gone. He had been torn from everyone else's lives so seamlessly that sometimes it made me believe that my brother had never really been here, even when I knew in my heart that that wasn't true.

"Kushina-hime! Good morning. You made it just in time." I was shaken from my musings as I was greeted by the gate keeper to our compound. He was an older man, with eyes that looked like they had smiled a lot in their lifetime. He had a few children, many grandchildren, and a wife who had just recently died—but never once had I seen him mention her with anything but happiness. I often chatted with him in the mornings upon my return from the training field, and I had found over the years that he could be one of my most trusted confidants. I knew that when I needed to talk, and Keiko-chan was on a mission; I need not go further than the gate of my clan compound. I had spent many afternoons at the gate house, talking to him about everything: my brothers, Keiko, my father, my mother, my infuriating classes, and I had even trusted him to keep my secret training ground safe. In return, he had told me stories of how he and his wife had met, about his children, and his adorable grandchildren. He was one of those few people I would allow to call me the suffix hime, or Princess. That was only because, when he said it, it sounded less like an honorific and more like a term of endearment that a grandfather would use with his own grandchild.

"Good morning, Hiroshi-san!" I greeted back. He gave me one of his best eye-crinkling, ear-to-ear grins that made me see the child in him still. It was one of the few things to date that could make me smile every time I saw it.

He tipped his hat towards me as I ran through the cracked gates, my platform shoes in hand instead of on my feet. When I opened the door to my house quietly, I peeked in to see if I was being expected. Without making a sound, I made my way in quickly, slipped my platform zori into their place by the door, and started towards the dining room. I was rushing so that I would arrive before my father did, which was always reliably at noon. Arriving last prompted unnecessary questions—questions I couldn't afford to answer incorrectly by my father's standards. I couldn't risk exposing my "extracurricular" activities to him.

When I made it past the kitchen, however, my hurry was quickly put to a halt. I had only briefly glanced into the room, and- upon doing so- had seen a flash of bright hair that could only be one person. Well, I thought. Only one person who actually lives here still…
"Kushina." The figure acknowledged me, and upon hearing it I was finally forced to realize I was not alone as I had originally assumed. At the mention of my name, I slid to a stop on the wood panels of the floor and looked over to the kitchen with a flabbergasted expression. As my company lifted a cup of tea to her mouth, I had a sense of déjà vu. I had experienced something quite like this on a dreary night five years ago—a night I didn't like to remember often and the night that sealed with it all my dreams for the future as the dawn broke over the grim scene of my past. Here I was again, slipping across the wooden floors as my mother watched on, drinking a cup of tea with a calm demeanor.

"Mother?" I asked, not quite believing this was her. I mean, there was no actual doubt that this was my mother, for there really was no mistaking her. She looked like my older twin. We had the same slate gray eyes, slim hourglass figures, and very long, fiery red hair. The last similarity, however, had not been my choice: I had been happy with my short, chin-length hair as a child, but it had not been feminine enough for my mother, my father, and especially Lady Imiko. As a young heiress, I didn't need to keep my hair cut short because I wasn't supposed to do anything that would render it uncooperative. I mean, what better things did I have to do that maintain my long, flowing hair? The mentality made me sick, don't get me wrong, but I had to admit: I was kind of attached to my hair now (and not in the literal sense; of course my hair is attached.There was something comforting and slightly secretive about having a natural veil that can surround you at all times. Not to mention, it wasn't that hard to maintain during training. I just had to tie it up now. Though the hair was definitely a clear similarity, my mother and I had also accumulated more differences over the years: mainly taking into consideration the emotional wear my mother had had to endure since Kazuo left. Now, looking at her as she drank tea in the kitchen as always, she looked older than she had ever appeared to me before. The stress had aged her face so that her once flawless skin was now creased with wrinkles—and not the natural looking smile and eye-crinkling lines like Hiroshi the gate keeper. It saddened me to see my mother this way, but I had that same stress to bear not to mention my own problems. If I wasn't only sixteen, I'd probably have wrinkles too.

The reason I was so shocked to see my mother there was because my mother was never in the kitchen drinking tea at noon on any given day. Noon was tea time, family time, and all four of us were forced to go each day. My mother was always the first to arrive, usually around 11:30, already sipping her first cup. Then, I would try to get there to avoid confrontation with the men in my family. Then father would get home, meaning that my mother and I should have already been in place in the tea room. Kenji would arrive soon after, always an exception to time or presence because of his rigorous ninja schedule… please. I had no sympathy for my brother there. He should have tried standing on his toes for a few hours in dance class and then spending a few hours at the training fields. Only then could he actually complain and have any sympathy from me. So, basically, I had my family's habits down to a science- a group of theories which had yet to be proven wrong until now. This was the first time in five years that everything hadn't been exactly the same as it was every other day at noon.

"Where is otou-san?" I asked in shock, trying to see if there was anything wrong with my appearance that would reveal where I had been. Had I left my fishnets on? Was my kimono tied correctly? Did I have senbon needles in my bun instead of chopsticks? Everything seemed to be fine, so I needn't worry about suspicion. If anything, my paranoia would only prompt questions. I needed to stay calm.

"He was called to an emergency clan meeting." She said, looking at me calmly as if she couldn't see the inner chaos within me that seemed to be brewing. "And Kenji is held up on a mission. It's just you and me today."

I took a deep breath, visibly relieved that I wasn't late or worse. "Oh," I muttered. "Ok then."

"Would you like to join me for some tea, dear?" My mother asked, her voice a little too innocent to go without suspicion. There was something far too calm about it, and I had the feeling that there some hidden motive behind our trivial chat.

"Uh, sure, Mom…" I leaned against the kitchen counter across from her, taking the spare cup from beside the kettle and pouring my tea. I lifted the little cup to my lips, letting the warm liquid pour down my throat without tasting it on my tongue. I had never much liked tea, but it made up such a large part of clan heiress etiquette that drinking it was inevitable. It seemed like half of etiquette class had been how to properly make tea, drink tea, serve tea, or even talk about tea. Therefore, I had become an expert at drinking tea without having to stand the taste of it. I like the warmth, though. It was soothing, even when the taste wasn't so.

"So…" My mother said after I had taken another long gulp. "How was your training?"
Seeing as she had said this during my next sip, I nearly spit out all the tea in my mother's face. What had she just said? I couldn't have heard her correctly. I sputtered out, "P-pardon me? What are you talking about?"

"I asked," She said, still as calmly and unfazed as ever. "How was your training, dear?"
A nervous chuckle escaped my throat, as I tried to play off the question. "Hehe, I don't know what you're talking about mom. My classes ended a few months ago. You know that."
"No, I wasn't talking about your heiress training, dear." My mother stated matter-of-factly. "I was asking about your ninja training; how's that going?"

"W-what ninja training?" I stammered, my eyes going wide as I stopped attempting to focus on my tea and put the cup down on the counter in front of me. "I don't know what you are talking about—"

"Kushina, don't do that to your own mother. I know you better than that—better than you think I do apparently." My mother put down her own cup and looked straight into my eyes, which were still wide with shock.

"H-how did you?..." I muttered, and my mother's lips pulled up in a satisfied smirk as she picked up her tea once again. My mind seemed to be throbbing with all the questions I had, so they seemed to come out all at once. "How did you know? How long have you known? How did you find out?"

She laughed and seemed to ponder the answers to herself for a very long time. "The simpler question isn't how long I've known. An easier question to answer would be how long didn't I know. How did I find out about your little secret? Your stubbornness was the key. When your father took you out of the academy and enrolled you in etiquette and dance classes, you were adamant that you would resist. There was no stopping you from reaching your goal. So what am I supposed to think when, after a year of protests, you suddenly are cooperative? It wasn't like you. Your soul is not easily broken, Kushina dear. You wouldn't subside so easily without motive. That's when I figured those hours you would disappear for were for training. Give me some credit, sweetheart. I'm your mother—I know you better than you know yourself."

Though I was stilled in a state of astonishment, I scoffed at that. "I highly doubt you know me better than I know myself, mother."

"Oh yeah?" She challenged, with a signature smirk that I had seen many times before on Kazuo's face and on mine as well. "Let's see how well I know you… hmm. Let's start with clothes. I don't think you'd want to train in a kimono, so I'm guessing you got your ninja gear from your cousin, Keiko?"

My lips parted in surprise for a moment, but I quickly recovered. "Lucky guess. That doesn't prove anything."

"Alright." She continued. "When it rains and your father won't let you go outside, you sneak into the Uzumaki clan library and hide the ninja scrolls inside the history books so you can sneak them into your room. Right now in your room you have the Uzumaki wind jutsu scroll, which probably means you are able to use wind chakra—I might not be a kunoichi myself, but I know that's an impressive and rare chakra affiliation to master; which you would have to be, considering you took the advanced jutsu scrolls in exchange for the more novice jutsus you had been previously trying. You're getting stronger all the time. Of course, you have water chakra—it runs in my family. And, even though your father and brothers had proficiencies for fire type chakra, I don't think you've been able to utilize that yet. You've only ever stolen informational books on fire chakra, never jutsu scrolls. I can't say I'm not a little proud that you take after my side of the family, and not your father's."

That surprised me, and she chuckled sheepishly at my incredulous expression. I was going to concede that she knew me pretty well it seemed, but she wasn't finished yet. "That's just some of the ninja things I know about you. You can't stand platform zori, so you walk around the village with them in your hands. You hate etiquette classes, and pretend that you hate dance classes. You secretly wish you were a better dancer, even though you and I both know you far surpassed anyone in your class and probably in the village when it came to dancing. When you drink tea, you try not to taste it. You never much liked it, but drank it anyway because everyone told you that you had to. As a child, your dream was to be the first Uzumaki Kunoichi and first Kage of the whirlpool village—both admirable dreams that you resent your father for taking away from you, and both dreams that still reside in your heart. You hate that no one ever mentions your older brother anymore, which I can relate to. Just like me, you don't think Kazuo really destroyed the Great Whirlpool. And, at night, you have dreams about your brother—you talk about him in your sleep."

When my mother was finished, I had to admit it to myself: she did know more about me than I did about myself. But, more importantly, I had to admit that my mother and I had more alike than our appearances. She and I both harbored a deep pain for the loss of Kazuo—a pain I didn't know she felt until now. I looked at her with a hopeful smile. "You're not going to tell Dad, are you mom? You're right… about everything. And this is what I love to do! This is the most important thing in my life now. I can't lose it again."
She laughed, somewhat in relief of my reaction. "Sweetie, if I was going to tell your father about this I would have done so by now. And if I would have done so already, trust me—even if your father was far away, you would know. Besides—do you think I enjoy seeing your soul break when your father forces you to do something else you don't love? And I know you love being a ninja; it's in your blood. Your dreams and this opportunity to continue your love is all that has kept you going over the last five years. How could I take away the one thing that has kept you alive? I will say this again, Kushina: I'm your mother. Seeing you hurt only hurts me as well. A parent never enjoys putting their child through pain."

"Speak for yourself." I said, bitterly. "Father seems to enjoy making my life unbearable."

"You shouldn't resent your father—you will regret it later on, trust me." I looked up at my mother, now curious about what she was referring to. Seeing my expression, she sighed. "I resented my parents for a long time, Kushina. I was so much like you as a child: I wanted to be a dancer, though, not a ninja. I wanted to move to a bigger city where I could be part of a big theatre, but I was told that I was to be married. I was only fifteen, dear. Younger than you, and I was moving to a strange house full of strange people with strange clan customs. It was honor to my family to be connected to the Uzumaki clan, however, so I had to do it. Your father was only in his early twenties at the time, and he was very quiet. Sometimes his isolated nature made him seem cold to me.
I was furious: not only was I being forced to live with this man, but he didn't even seem to want me. Years passed and my hatred for my husband and my parents grew stronger and stronger. Then, in a single week, everything changed for me. My father died, leaving the strings between us frayed and not mended. My mother refused to talk to me anymore, since she was so hurt from my cold shoulder. Then I found out that I was pregnant with Kazuo, and suddenly my whole perspective changed. I regretted never fixing things with my parents, knowing that I would soon become one myself. I was finally able to drop the wall of hatred around me, and my broken heart was suddenly opened. My heart made room for your father and for our new baby, and eventually for Kenji and you."

"I didn't know about that…" I muttered, a little embarrassed of my self. I had always thought my mother had been so passive; always quiet and conceding to whatever the clan leaders wanted her to do for our family. I knew she had been a free spirit before, my father having briefly mentioned it in the past. I had always just assumed that she knew that marrying well was an honor and that she lived to serve her family. I had been wrong though, about everything—my mother was never passive or weak. She might not be a ninja, but she had been a dreamer just like Kazuo and just like me. She had wanted greater things in her life and had fought tooth and nail against settling for a simpler life. Kazuo's and my theories had been wrong: my mother hadn't been forced to accept a husband and children. She had decided that a family was the right path for her; she had made a new dream for herself. The person who I had once thought to be feeble was now an inspiration.

"Well," She said, and her beautiful smile lighted her face once again. "I know it's hard; having to keep your training a secret. But- for as long as I can manage it- I will help you. I know it may not be good enough, considering you probably won't ever get to be an official kunoichi. Since I'm not a ninja myself it may not be my place to say it but- seeing as my whole family consists of ninjas- I have a pretty good idea of what it's like…"

She stopped to brush my long bangs behind my ear, taking the barrette from her own hair and clipping mine into place. She placed a soft hand on the side of my face, and I leaned into it despite myself. She smiled at the reaction. "And, though you may never have a high-ranked ninja status, I know for a fact that's not what being a shinobi is about. Being a shinobi means that you must be a talented, intelligent, and relentless warrior—all of which you are, my Dear. A rank does not define talent but an idea of talent. But who gives the village leaders the right to classify my daughter? You are an Uzumaki, Kushina, and a phenomenal ninja. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Thank you, Mom." I said softly as I leaned over to embrace my mother. "I won't."
"Do you still have your brother's jacket? The black and orange one he loved so much?" I leaned back away from my mother's arms to look at her face. I blinked in surprise: She knew about the jacket too? Well, I thought. She is my mom… She seems to know everything about me.

"Yeah, I still wear it everyday" I asked in confusion. "Why?"

"Good." She said quietly, with another soft smile. "Don't lose that. It's good that you keep a part of him with you. I know it may often seem like everyone is just trying to forget Kazuo, but you shouldn't. We are family, despite rough circumstances, and we can not forget that part: I know for a fact that you and I aren't the only ones who keep part of him with us."

"What do you mean?" I asked, not really believing what she was implying. Just then however, she pulled something out of the sash at her waist. When she brought it up for me to look at, I smiled ruefully at it. It was a little white swirl with a name written down the middle. I immediately recognized it. "Kazuo's Uzumaki clan patch."

She nodded at me, stowing the little keepsake back where it had been before. "That's not all. Your father and your brother both kept something too. Kenji took the personalized kunai you got Kazuo one year for his birthday. He never uses it to train, but he always keeps it on his person. Your father still has Kazuo's head band that Kenji gave him that night."

This surprised me immensely, but at that moment I was pondering something to myself. All this mention of Kazuo's things brought me back to that last night I had seen him, and considered whether or not I should tell my mother. If there was anything my mother did not know about me, it would be the real happenings on that night—not Kenji's horribly abridged version. My mother had a right to know that her sons had confronted each other, but I was sure it would disconcert her. The moment we were having, the first mother daughter bonding moment we had ever really experienced, could not be wasted on the past. I would tell my mother eventually, with the notion that this wouldn't be our last heart-to-heart. Right now, though, we both seemed to finally be moving forward again.
I opened my mouth to say something about her previous comment, but, just as I did, another figure joined the room, interrupting me. "Lady Uzumaki!"

"Yes?" My mother answered the man who had rushed into the room. I could see that the happy, motherly expression was quickly replaced with the calm, First-Lady of the clan façade. She had become an expert in switching her personalities on and off.

"It's Lord Uzumaki! Your husband has just been admitted to the hospital for a heart attack!" He yelled, the silence drawing out afterwards. Despite my feelings toward my father, my heart dropped into my stomach. I'd imagine my mother was feeling exactly the same way, if the tension that permeated the air around us was any indication.

"Katsutoshi…" My mother breathed my father's name, the seriousness in her voice washed away by the dire situation. Without hesitation, she grabbed my hand so that I'd follow her as she chased the other man out the door to our house.

The hospital wasn't far from the Uzumaki compound, but every second felt like it could be end for my father. Every minute we weren't there was a minute we didn't get to spend with him in his final hour. When we finally got there, the hospital didn't seem to be in a frantic like we were. When we finally neared my father's private room, however, the rush of nurses and disheartening sounds got more and more chaotic; the yell of doctors, the distant beep of monitors, and the wheezing breaths of the ill. When we turned into a room finally, the sight of my father was enough to choke the breath from my throat. I couldn't breathe upon seeing him. My mother rushed to her husband's side, but I remained frozen beside the door. My father's skin was sallow and pasty; his breathing coming in shallow, rapid bursts. His bare chest rose and fell quickly with each irregular breath.

When he saw my mother enter the room, his hand reached out towards her as if of its own will. His eyes seemed to light up, despite the situation, and my mother instantly fell into the chair beside him. She grasped his hand with both of hers, wincing as she did so as if it was she who was in pain. He lifted his hand from hers, touching her cheek softly.

"Akahana-chan…" I heard him speak almost inaudibly from across the room. It was odd hearing my mother's given name, and especially odd to hear someone refer to her with such an informal honorific. With my mother it was always lady or –sama or –san. In all my life, I had never heard my father refer to my mother in such a loving tone of voice.

"Katsu-kun." She whispered back, smiling despite the tears that streamed from her eyes. As I watched my parents from across the room, I couldn't help but feel like I was imposing on a very private moment. They were lost in their own little world—probably back in the first few years of their marriage, when things were always carefree and simple. At least, that's how I imagined it would be based on their wistful expressions. As my mother had explained to me, the beginning of their marriage hadn't been comfortable and romantic. But, I imagined they were thinking of that brief period of time where things were that way for them. My mother lifted her hands to her face, holding my father's hand in place. She closed her eyes, feeling his skin against hers. I felt like I should leave—this wasn't my place to watch this. No matter how hard I tried to move my legs out the door though, I could not bring myself to. Watching my parents act toward each other this way, in a way I had never seen before, was a refreshing change in personality. If these were my father's final moments on this Earth, I was glad I got to see him this way. He actually looked like a kind, loving husband, and- if I had to have a final lasting memory of my father- than this was a good one to have. I didn't want to think about how much I had resented him before, like my mother had told me. This was how I wanted to remember my father.

When my father lost the strength to keep his hand where it was, I knew it was over. His hand fell from my mother's face, dropping from her cheek as it went limp. My mother cried out in anguish, sprawling her own body over his in agony. Her tears stained her cheeks, rushing down until they dampened the blanket that covered my father's body. His whole body was lifeless—there wasn't an ounce of the strength and power that I had always associated with my father. The doctors and medical ninja rushed into the room, grumbling in annoyance that I was in their way. They shoved me aside, desperately making their way to my father, but I could not to feel their persistent attempts to move me.

They pushed my mother off her husband's body, replacing her hands with their own. Everything that was happening in front of me seemed to be in slow motion; one horrifying, tragic image flashing after another. The medical ninja forced chakra into my father's body, attempting to revive the man. I knew, without needing to be a medical ninja, that it was too late. I had read enough medical journals to know that my father's heart was literally broken beyond repair. The muscles in his heart were far too damaged to repair themselves or to be fixed by someone else's hands. No matter how hard they tried to save his life, it was no use. And just like that, my father was dead.

When the doctor announced a time of death, my mother broke into hysterics and collapsed on top of him again. The nurses, ninja, and doctors backed away, allowing the grieving women her space. Some people, however, were not so kind. Only moments after the medical professionals left, members of our clan took their place in the room. I recognized these people, but none of them were close family members. Though my mother was clearly not suitable to talk, they made her do so anyway.

"Lady Uzumaki! Where is your son?" My mother squeezed her husbands body closer to her, ignoring their questions. "Lady Uzumaki! We must know where Kenji Uzumaki is-"

"He's out on a mission." She croaked finally, clearly not wanting to be bothered any longer. "I don't know when he'll be back."

As the clan representatives looked to one another, I suddenly realized what their urgency was for. My father was dead—No, not my father; the leader of the Uzumaki clan was dead. The founding clan of the village, the most powerful group of people in Uzugakure, was without a leader. This was not acceptable for the Uzumaki clan.

"Go at once." One, the leader, said to a man of lower rank, who bowed in response. "Send a message by hawk to Kenji Uzumaki. Tell him he must return to the village at once because his father has passed away. His inauguration will be in three weeks time. Then, the Uzumaki clan will have a new leader."