"Hakke Fuin"

A gentle whisper, a sigh fading with the wind; a caress on her neck, the last words to come from the man that she had loved, would always love, even in death.

A love that had taken shape in the smiling child before her eyes – so little, so fragile and oh so, so beautiful. Her son, their son, Naruto, was safe. He would live a long and happy life and their dreams would live on in him and guide him. And, Gods given, she would see him again one day and tell him how much, oh how very much, she had wanted to have been by his side. She couldn't help the smile that spilled on her face under the tears even as the last wisps of her chakra dissipated unforgivably from her system, drained by the seal he had cast, stealing whatever warmth she had left. The curtain fell and darkness claimed her.

She was lost.

For all the speculation and the dangers surrounding her, death had always been an abstract thought. Inevitable, surely, a constant risk in her life, like a companion who walked by her side and waited patiently to pick her up when she fell. Acknowledging the inevitable, however, did not entitle understanding it. The idea of an after-life, eternity and peace had always been quite foreign to her mind, although, as any person, she had had some simple, quite imperfect guesses to what death was. An eternal calm perhaps – a close in which there was a beginning to something that would never again come to an end. Peace. She had liked to believe that somewhere in the vast nothingness that awaited her she would find something of her own; that she would find him again, outside of time and space, an entity to rest forever with her own. For all her petty musings, she had never quite pictured the pain.

She had been beaten bloody, once (or was it twice? Or thrice? She had lost count), in a life that seemed to have passed and faded so long ago. She had been cut and burned and thrashed and broken and strangled and even drowned. Yet none of those misfortunes compared to the sheer agony that had engulfed her now, as if her very essence was being torn from a shell that wanted to hold its own. And it all burned white and hot and unendurable, erasing all sense of being, of existence and of thought. She was nothing and everything all at once and there was simply being, existing, there, in that sea of excruciating pain. How was that right, how could she feel pain if she no longer was? If she felt then she must exist. And it took all she had left, whatever that may be, to hold on to that flicker of existence even as it felt like it was tearing her apart, a piece of it lost forever, drained and locked by an invisible force.

It had been hours now, or maybe minutes, or was it years, days?

It happened gradually, or maybe all at once, she could not tell; time had ceased to exist in the plane that she had occupied, somewhere beyond the reach of men. A sense of it was coming back now, a concept flickering on the border of a simple existence burned raw for much too long. Understanding was returning to her even as the pain receded, leaving a shock of elated emptiness and relief. A realization was trying to break through the calmness and stir her into thought, something that seemed to be returning to her, a vital concept that she had lost.

Who are you? Are you? Are you not?

Was it the Gods who asked her? Oh, no, it was only her; was she a God? How silly, she thought, I am only human, and with that reflection recognition flickered into existence all at once.

I am a shinobi of the Eddies and a shinobi of the Leaf. I am a wife and a mother. And I am dead, the thought registered and even as it did, it sounded off; for surely the mere fact that she was thinking suggested the capability to do so in a world bound by thought. Time came first and then the rationality of thought and self-understanding before a concept of space started to worm its way through, hazy and unclear. Sounds reached her, distant and muffled as if drifting from hundreds of miles away and her whole existence, chafed raw now, shied away. Flickers of light flashed on all sides, glimpses of colours that danced before her eyes. Eyes? Sight? Hearing? All of a sudden she was aware that she wasn't a mere entity anymore, but was bound to a form again, existing somewhere within space and time.

With a sudden wrenching thrust she was pulled downwards until her feet crashed into an unforgiving surface and the nothingness around her shattered and fell apart, leaving the bright picture of light and colour and forms and shapes and people, sensations overwhelming her after the numbness that seemed to have lasted much too long.

"All right. We have a new transfer student today…" someone by her side seemed to be saying, but the words didn't register.

They washed over her with little meaning, her mind refusing to make sense of them as she rasped a ragged deep breath, filling lungs that might have not been used in ages or might have been used just now. One hand flew to her chest out of instinct, clutching the fabric there as if to ease the echo of an ache that was no longer there, trying to find the gaping hole that a giant claw should have left once before, and she swayed on her feet – disorientated, lost.

A hand gripped her shoulder, shaking it and more words echoed around her, asking if she was alright. Was she alright? How was she living at all, how had she not died? Was this the afterlife, why did it feel so vibrant and… vivid and alive? Had something gone wrong with the technique, with-

"Naruto." she whispered, a horrified dry rasp as her memories finally caught up with her. The birth, the mask, the fox, the seal and her son… How could she have lost track of it all, how could she have forgot?

Shaking hands grabbed the sleeve of the man beside her in a steely grip as she turned a feverish look at him without even seeing him.

"Naruto. Where is he?" she demanded in a high-pitched unnatural voice.

The man, who on the off-hand seemed familiar in a distant, uncoordinated way, seemed to be quite puzzled by her hasty words, looking at her incredulously.

"N-naruto? What, are you hungry?" he asked, absolute incomprehension colouring his voice as he glanced sideways nervously and the girl found herself compelled to follow that look, taking in her environment for the first time.

She wasn't in the clearing anymore and it wasn't a bleary cold night, but a warming sunny day. The chakra – that foul, malevolent chakra, full of nothing but despair and hate – was now nowhere to be felt, not even its residue. Vanished as if it had never been. She seemed to be standing in a classroom instead, a classroom she knew only too well. And before her eyes swam a sea of faces, familiar and different, the faces of memories now shaped with crystal clarity, gazing at her with puzzlement and a tint of fear. Her breath hitched and she froze in place, her muscles locking with the shock and recognition of her comrades in the faces of the children all around. And there, to her left, a mere few feet away someone else caught her attention and her heart skipped a beat even before her eyes found him, already knowing that he would be precisely there.

A pair of curious blue eyes was peering at her through the innocence of childhood, under a shock of sun-kissed hair.

"M-Minato." she managed to choke out as if dazed, the resulting words suspiciously resembling a dry sob. "Minato…"

The boy's eyes widened with confusion as everyone around him turned to stare.

This was Minato, the man she loved, she would recognise him anywhere and always, feeling now the steady thrum of that warm chakra, which she was so attuned to that it seemed to shine brightly in the room drowning out all else. The feeling of relief that washed over her upon seeing him breathing and living and well did not last long, soon replaced by horror. This person did not know her. This was not her Minato and not a man at all, but a boy. A boy.

Her mind reeled in shock and denial, refusing to grasp what her eye receptors were feeding to it, the image of a child, of a memory of long ago.

Slowly, with exaggerated care she lifted her hands, peering at the chubby fingers before throwing an incredulous look down her petite stature, the bright clothing, the flat shapeless body, the bruised knees… The high-pitched voice suddenly made too much sense. Oh it was her alright. Her at age six.

Her breathing had quickened now, coming out in dry shallow rasps as shock started to swell up inside. Seasoned shinobi reflexes kicked in on themselves, trying to beat it down with nothing but sheer will and the stems of rationality that she could hardly hold onto.

Genjutsu.

It had to be, there was no other explanation to it. Who would subdue her in such a way was beyond her and 'why' was another dead end. Surely it couldn't be Kyubi – powerful as the fox was, genjutsu was not its forte. What mattered was the horrible result – a result that, she was certain, wouldn't have had such crippling consequences for so long if her mind hadn't been already damaged and broken by a painful Bijuu extraction and the concept of inevitable death. If she had been in full physical and mental health she might have reached to that obvious conclusion much sooner, sparing herself the pain of realising that the now-living-for-the-time-being Minato was more than likely still very dead, out there in the real world. How she had survived and why was another mystery that she decided to dwell upon later. For now, for the sake of what little rationality she had managed to muster, she decided to focus on what was really important for the time being – getting back to Naruto. To her son.

With a last pained look at the confused child that was Minato of her past, she brought her hands before her chest, much to the stunned protest of the man that she now recognised as her academy teacher, and formed the familiar seal for Release. Chakra surged through her, burning on the inside as she gathered quantities far too abnormal for breaking genjutsu, a torrent of power that only an Uzumaki could will upon. The very air around her seemed to haze and dim, making the strands of her hair dance about chaotically. Children were jumping to their feet now, backing away through shouts, yet Minato remained in his seat staring at her with wonder and something that she could only determine as a timid fascination. Silently she directed a goodbye.

"Kai."

The chakra surged forward releasing a wave so strong that even the furniture seemed to creak as if affected physically just as the pages and documents on the teacher's desk scattered in the air. She might have overdone it, but she didn't want to take any risks – this Release should be able to break through any genjutsu lest for Tsukuyomi, but Kushina was quite certain that that particular technique didn't work quite so. This genjutsu was different and it was sure to break.

Nothing happened.

Kushina blinked.

"Kushina Uzumaki!" her teacher half-shouted, grabbing her hand and instinct kicked in on itself as the girl quickly twisted out of his grasp, swirling around in a well-practiced taijutsu stance and directing a forceful upper kick at a man much too surprised to react.

It caught him straight in the chest, making him stagger back in shock just as Kushina herself jumped out of reach, skidding in a half crouched position by the door, eyes crazed, sweeping over the premise wildly. Everyone seemed to have stilled, watching her with nothing but fear, but she had eyes for one person alone – a sunny boy that had now jumped to his feet, watching her warily despite retaining the same tint of fascination as before.

Another hasty seal and chakra burning at her tips.

"Kai. Kai. Kai."

Real. He was real. This was real.

Her teacher was now watching her carefully, hand hovering over his kunai pouch. The girl barely registered him.

"It can't be." she whispered quietly, not taking her eyes off of Minato, biting back the wisps of insanity. "We died."

The boy seemed to have decided that she is talking to him for he suddenly opened his mouth, meaning to say something, but no sound came out. What could he answer to such nonsensical blabber from a girl who seemed, more than likely mad?

A chuckle bubbled from within as she realised that she had just considered this inexplicable version of her Minato to think her mad. That did it. She had gone insane. For what else could explain the fact that she was a child, back in an older Konoha, back to her own past. Time travel was impossible, not by all the laws of the universe that she had learned to adhere to. Yet it felt so very real and tangible and bittersweet that it brought a sting to her eyes.

She needed to see more, she needed to make sure. She needed to know. She needed something, anything to feed to her senses, to form a sound perception and to come up with an explanation if she was to validify any sort of rationality. Without another word she turned on her heel and broke into a run, leaving the stunned room into silence.

A distant familiar, oh so familiar, voice called out after her with a rapid "Wait!" as a light pair of hurried footsteps followed her through the corridor, yet she did not turn. She couldn't face him again, not before she faced herself. Chakra pooled to her feet and she jumped high as soon as she made her way out of the Academy, taking it to the roofs where she was sure he could not follow, not yet.

A hasty, headlong run without a destination and a direction, running for the sake of the run itself, for she felt that if she stopped she would fall apart. A familiar mountain loomed ahead of her, a monument that bore three faces now, the fourth very much inexistent, not yet. A ragged sob escaped her lips and her stomach clenched, causing her to skid in a jerky stop, falling on her knees over Gods know which rooftop and retching violently what little contents her stomach had as it clenched painfully again and again. The air seemed to have grown too thin as she struggled to grasp it, breathing shallow quick breaths, her head swimming.

She was back in the past. The impossible had become reality. She was a child again. She was a child and her child was gone, disappeared after having being forcefully wrenched out of her embrace. Because Naruto did not exist in this world, not until twenty or so years in the future. And despite that being a concept more cheerful than death, she could not squash the mental conviction that, despite her childish stature, mere hours ago she had been a mother. A mother whose baby was lost.

Kushina never knew when she had fallen to one side, tightly curled in a ball, weeping until the shock and exhaustion subdued her in an uneasy haze.

AN: So… what can I say? I opened word to start the new chapter of my other fic and this poured out. I suppose studying about the concept of death and the afterlife as it was depicted in literature throughout the ages did leave a trace there, along with quite a few time travel fics that I read as of late, shaping new ideas for me. I haven't read all that many time-travel fics centering around Kushina, but I do love her character so I wanted to try something new. When I announced a new fic, this wasn't what I had planned.

That being said, I am not abandoning my first fic. Call this a side project. Still, I hope you enjoy the product of a sleepless imagination-fueled night!

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment, question or banter, I'll read it all and try to answer as soon as possible! See you soon!