The paper trembled in Kushina's hand as a sudden weakness overcame her. She understood war. Knew people died and never returned home. She knew history was full of such facts, and she had experienced it personally as well.
But because this was different.
There were many kinds of pain a shinobi learned to carry. Comrades lost on distant battlefields. Missions that never went as clean as planned. Names of loved ones etched into a memorial stone like quiet apologies.
But telling a child that someone they loved would never return…
There was no training for that, thought Kushina. Children shouldn't have to know that pain; this very village was founded so children could grow free of war and hate and loss.
Across from her, Jiraiya stood with his arms folded tightly, jaw set in a way that made him look older than Kushina had ever seen him. He didn't speak. He knew this moment belonged to Kushina.
Outside the sliding door, small footsteps shifted.
Waiting.
Kushina closed her eyes, taking a brief moment to compose herself.
"Kazane… you can come in," she said.
The door slid open slowly.
Kazane stepped inside with careful, measured movements, like she was entering a space she didn't quite recognise anymore. Her eyes moved from Kushina's face… to Jiraiya's… and back again.
Children were always more perceptive than people would expect.
She had already felt it.
The weight in the air. The knawing stillness.
"Mom?" she asked quietly.
Kushina knelt in front of her. She wanted to smile. Wanted to keep her voice steady, but she couldn't.
"Kazane… something happened on your father's mission." Voice, trembling as she spoke.
Kazane remained still. Unblinking, her fingers curled slowly into the fabric of her sleeves.
"Is Dad hurt?" she questioned.
Voice, quiet. Careful.
Kushina's heart twisted painfully. "No," she said quickly. "Your father is alive."
The tension in Kazane's shoulders loosened just slightly.
But only slightly. "Rin?" she asked next.
Kushina shook her head gently.
"Rin is safe too, sweetie."
Kazane swallowed, her voice growing quieter. "…Kakashi?"
"He's fine."
Silence stretched between them. Kazane's eyes searched her mother's.
One name left unspoken.
Kushina felt it like a blade against her chest. "…Obito?" Kazane asked.
The room fell silent.
Jiraiya looked away.
Kushina reached out and took Kazane's hands in hers. They were cold. Far too cold.
"Kazane," she whispered softly, "Obito was very brave."
Children were perceptive; they knew the language adults used when they were trying not to say something.
Kazane's hands stiffened in her grasp. "…That means he's coming back?"
Kushina's vision blurred as something all too familiar stirred in her eyes.
"Right?" Kazane pressed.
"It means he protected the people he cared about." Her voice shook despite her efforts.
"…So he's a hero?" she asked, almost desperately. "That means he's coming back. Heroes always live happily ever after in the stories."
"It means he chose to help his friends… even when it was dangerous."
Kazane stared at her. Unblinking. Frozen.
"Is he... Is he coming back?"
There it was again.
The question Kushina dreaded.
The one she couldn't avoid.
She pulled Kazane closer, wrapping her arms around her small frame. "No," she whispered.
The word broke apart on the way out.
"He won't be coming home."
Silence.
Kazane numbly stood there in her mother's arms. Eyes dry, throat closed tightly. She didn't scream. She couldnt even if she wanted to, her body freezing over icily.
Kushina felt it as Kazane's breathing slowed. As her chakra, usually restless and flickering like contained lightning, went unnaturally quiet. As if it were retreating somewhere deep inside her.
"Kazane?" Kushina pulled back slightly.
Her daughter's eyes looked distant, empty, as if she had just disappeared.
Kushina didn't know what to do.
"…He said we'd race again," Kazane murmured.
The words weren't spoken to Kushina, but to a memory of a friend.
To a promise.
Now broken.
Jiraiya stepped forward quietly and rested a large, steady hand on Kazane's shoulder.
"He cared about you a lot, kid," he said gently.
His voice was rough, but kind. "Obito talked about you all the time."
Kazane's eyes shifted slightly. "…He talked a lot."
A faint tremor entered her voice. "He always shouted."
Jiraiya's mouth curved into a sad smile. "Yeah," he said softly. "He sure did."
Kushina brushed her fingers through Kazane's hair.
"He was always very happy," she said.
Kazane's lips parted slightly. Hands balled into fists. "…Then why?"
The question was fragile. Painfully fragile.
"Why did he have to go?"
Kushina had faced enemy shinobi without fear. Stared down monsters and endured a childbirth unlike any other before.
But this question…
This small, trembling question from her daughter… It broke her.
"Sometimes," Kushina said softly, "the world is cruel."
Jiraiya knelt beside them. "But sometimes," he added gently, "people choose to be kind anyway, and sometimes that choice is made by those far too young."
He squeezed Kazane's shoulder carefully.
"Obito chose kindness."
Kazane's face trembled, and her composure cracked, "I didn't say goodbye."
Kushina pulled her close again.
"You don't always get to."
Finally, Kazane cried quietly into her mother's embrace. Small, shaking breaths against Kushina's chest as silent tears soaked into the fabric. Like she was afraid, afraid to cry too loudly. Afraid to disturb the world anymore than it already was.
Kushina held her tighter, trying to shield her from a pain that had already rooted itself too deeply. A desperate, motherly love.
Jiraiya remained beside them, his presence steady. A silent guardian in a moment that did not need words. And as Kushina held her daughter, she realised something that frightened her more than war ever had.
This would not be the last loss Kazane endured. Nor the last, no matter how much she wished otherwise, this world is far too cruel for that.
Each one would carve out a small wound of its own. Slowly hollowing her with each loss. Making her...
...A little colder each time, a little emptier, a little lonelier.
Unless...
----Author Note----
So I will be posting tomorrow regularly, but from Monday to Friday, I will not be posting anything.
Life is a little crazy at the moment, unfortunately, and I'm struggling to get the time to work on this project. I could force it, but it would be a bad idea, so Im going to work on it through the week as much as I can and get back to normal Saturday and Sunday when things should have calmed down.
Sorry, and as always, Thank You All for your time and support.